#peak design is giving something a little face

[retrobutterflies]

Nectar | billie eilish

Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Summary: You both admit the extent of your feelings between soft teasing and pretty kisses.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Sickening, cotton candy fluff

Part I

A/N: A silly little addendum to Ambrosia.

“You look tired.” 

It took you a moment to acknowledge her words, her voice a low melody, lips brushing the curve of your ear. Your eyes had been blinking slowly, feeling the weight of sleep lulling at you for the past half hour but you were fighting to keep them open, determined not to let yourself fall asleep for fear that you would wake up and realize it had all been some sort of cruel dream. 

“I can stay up,” you replied, swallowing back a yawn that was creeping up your throat. 

Her eyes narrowed at you, scanning around your face. The room was dim, the only light coming from your desk lamp and the moonlight seeping in through the window but her eyes had no trouble admiring the contours of your face.

“Your eyes are drooping,” she said, the corners of her mouth ticking up in amusement as a pout formed on your lips.

“My eyes don’t droop,” you argued, meeting her gaze. 

“No?” Her smirk widened. 

She reached her hand up to smooth her thumb between your eyebrows, dragging over your brow bone and then the other one, melting away the tension that lingered on your face. You hummed, eyes fluttering closed at the affection. She let out a soft chuckle before you felt her lips press softly into the plush of your cheek.

“Come on, at least let’s get ready for bed?” she suggested and you opened your eyes to see hers still analyzing your face, her desire to care for you seeming more and more blatant that you were surprised you hadn’t noticed it before.

With a conceding nod, she shifted you softly off of her, standing up and pulling you up along with her. She went to rummage in your dresser for something to sleep in and you opened your door to peak out into the hallway to see if the bathroom was free. You heard your roommate shout in fear as a scream erupted distantly from the TV and you grimaced at the sudden noise puncturing the bubble of peace you had created in your room.

You turned to see Billie already moving to pull her shirt off and you turned back around quickly, shutting the door.

“You didn’t want to give me a warning?” You huffed, embarrassment seeping into you. You had seen her in a bathing suit before and on those sweltering summer nights where wearing anything more than shorts and a cami was too hot, but for some reason seeing a sliver of her torso now in the soft glow of your bedside lamp was enough to make a ferocious blush arise on your cheeks.

“I can give you a show if you want,” she bit back and you could hear the grin in her voice.

“Billie,” you whined, somewhat breathless, fighting the urge to turn around and glare at her. She let out a laugh.

“Okay, I’m done,” she said. You turned around and felt your heart squeeze.

Black sweatpants that pooled by her ankles and a large dark T-shirt that practically engulfed her whole. They were her clothes that she had left there, kept there for when she usually stayed over, and they stayed in the designated drawer of your dresser that only she was allowed to use. And you felt the soft creep of a blush crawl up your neck at the sight of her and the fact that you really couldn’t believe how blind you had been. 

“What?” she asked, her voice breaking you from your spell and you hoped she couldn’t see how hot your cheeks suddenly felt.

“Nothing,” you said back, a hint too quickly. She was already smirking again, her eyes charged with delight and mirth and a third emotion you couldn’t find the words to describe.

You opened up the top drawer of your dresser to pull out your own clothes but you could feel her heavy gaze on the side of your face. You turned to face her, clothes bunched in your hands, flush rising on your cheeks.

“I need to change,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as you met her eyes.

She quirked an eyebrow, sly smile pulling at her pink lips.

“Do I have to turn around?” she asked and you felt silly with how bashful you suddenly felt even though barely a few minutes ago you were all over her.

“Yes,” you replied and she scrunched up her nose.

“Why?” She was practically pouting and you were starting to grow worried at how the rest of the night would go if every little thing she did had your insides setting ablaze. “We’ve always changed in front of each other.”

“Because it’s different now,” you said and she couldn’t hold back the playful roll of her eyes.

“Why, because I’m your girlfriend?” she said and you felt the wind get knocked out of your chest for a moment.

Girlfriend? Were you girlfriends now? It hadn’t even crossed your mind that this was the next step. You had just assumed after your month of panic and self-isolation that she would reject you once she finally realized why you had been acting so strange. It hadn’t crossed your mind that she would reciprocate your feelings and then want to turn your friendship into something more. 

“Are you?” you breathed, blinking owlishly at her. She blinked back at you and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Well we just confessed our love for each other . . .” she trailed off, as if suddenly realizing she might’ve jumped the gun. 

“I mean, if you’re not comfortable I totally understand. Sorry, I just, my mind is kinda moving a mile a minute right now,” she let out a sheepish laugh, moving her hand up to rub the side of her face.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “That was fast. I wasn’t even thinking,” her words were quick, mashed together in a mix of embarrassment and panic. 

“We can just, um, see how it goes?” she winced at her own words, looking like she regretted them instantly. Her hand moved over her jaw and she let out a quiet exhale of frustration.

You didn’t mean to be silent for so long or make her squirm but you were taken aback. Billie had been your friend for years. You had watched her date and fall in love and break up and mess around and date again. It was nearly impossible for people around her not to fall in love with her. But you? Billie dating you? Wanting to date you? Wanting to stop dating other people?

“I thought . . .” you struggled to find the words, “you didn’t want a serious relationship anymore?”

She grimaced at your words, her tongue poking the side of her cheek as she stared at you. She nodded and then dropped her head into her hands, groaning as she rubbed her palms into her eyes.

“That’s because you guys kept trying to set me up with people,” she confessed. She pulled her face back up, nose scrunched.

“Oh,” you murmured, eyebrows pulling together, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .” you trailed off.

She looked up at you, meeting your eyes and let out a sigh.

“No, it’s not–You didn’t do anything wrong,” she puffed out her cheeks that were starting to color a soft rose. She let out another sigh.

“It’s just, I didn’t want to date anyone–,” she started, her eyes now holding yours. The light of the moon was shining through the window, illuminating her eyes so they flashed a cold azure. You could feel her unsaid words in the air, your breath stalling in your chest as you waited for her to continue, “except you.”

She had already confessed to loving you when she couldn’t bare to separate her lips from yours but hearing this confession, the depth of her admiration, had your insides swirling.

“You stopped dating . . . because of me?” you asked, wide eyed as you stared at her.

“Yeah,” she let out a sheepish chuckle, “I mean, I tried to get over you. But you kinda . . . messed me up.”

“I messed you up?” you gasped, an airy, incredulous laugh leaving your lips as you blinked at her.

“Dude, I literally–,” she let out another groan, rubbing her face again, “You don’t get it. I’m literally so obsessed with you I couldn’t even pretend to like someone else.”

“You’re kidding,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face as you gaped at her.

“I wish I was,” she huffed.

“No, wait, because what about a couple of weeks ago, at that party on Sinclair? You left with that girl?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes at her.

“What girl?” she cocked her head.

“The one with the long dark hair and she had that cool new Coach bag I’ve been wanting and she was flirting with you all night and you seemed more than happy flirting back and then you left together. I watched you,” you said, moving your arms to cross over your chest. 

She blinked at you. Then she let out a musical laugh.

“Jordan?” she questioned, incredulously. 

“I don’t need to know her name,” you huffed, wrinkling your nose at her. She laughed again, taking a step closer to you. 

“Oh my god, you’re insane,” she muttered, but her lips were pulling into a grin and she seemed pleased at the sudden jealousy radiating off of you.

“Wow, you really know how to compliment a girl,” you snipped back and she laughed again, stepping closer until you could smell the soft swirls of her perfume.

“It’s because you are. You’re so out of touch from reality I’m genuinely shocked,” she said and you gasped at her.

“You are digging yourself a hole,” you grumbled, glaring at her grinning face but she persisted.

“Jordan is a friend who is straight and has a boyfriend,” she emphasized for good measure, “And she was giving me advice about you because you were ignoring me.”

You stared at her, mulling over her words and trying to reel in your jealousy but your mind flashed back to that party and Jordan putting her hand on Billie’s arm as she led them out of the door. 

“But you left with her.”

“No, her boyfriend and some of his friends were hanging outside so we went to get some fresh air. I never left. But when I came back in, you, however, did.”

You winced at her words. You had left shortly after that because the thought of Billie bringing another girl home made you feel so nauseous you thought you were going to puke all over that 2000s Tuscan kitchen.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “I didn’t realize.”

“You were jealous,” she said, almost gleefully, her smirk deepening.

You rolled your eyes, trying to stop the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“Hardly,” you replied, tasting the lie on your tongue. She grinned further.

“You’re practically green,” she said and stepped close enough that you could lightly swat her arm.

“Stop,” you groaned, moving your hands to cover your face. She reached her hands out to wrap them around your wrists, softly tugging them away from your face.

“You look like the Grinch,” she added.

“Billie!”

Before you could protest further, her lips were on yours, soft and warm. Her hands were wrapped around your wrists, tugging them into her chest so she could pull you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed and you let out a dazed breath in between her ardent kisses. Your body relaxed, leaning into her touch, soaking in her affection like a flower to the sun. She smiled against your lips and then she pulled back to admire your flushed face, biting her lower lip as her eyes darted around your face.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she mused, her words soothing her earlier teasing. “But you have no reason to be. I promise.”

You hummed in response, eyes flickering back to her lips before you were leaning in again. She kissed you back eagerly, hands moving from your wrists to wrap around your back, tugging you in closer. Your arms snaked around her neck, leaning your weight into her. Her lips were inebriating, moving against yours in a delicate dance that had your head feeling like TV static. One of your hands burrowed in her hair, silky strands curling around your fingers. She sighed in contentment, her breath fanning over your face, catching your lips quickly again like you would disappear if she wasn’t careful.

Slowly, your kisses softened, each one dragging out longer and longer until you were both catching your breath and she was pressing her forehead against yours.

“I would though,” she said, her voice rasping as she broke the silence, “like you to be my girlfriend. If you want.”

Your cheeks burned like fire and your stomach felt like a butterfly vivarium. You moved your hand up to cup her cheek, pulling away so you could look at her properly. Your eyes flickered between hers, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability reflecting in her glass eyes. 

“I would like that too,” you murmured. She pressed her cheek into your hand before turning her head to touch her lips to your palm.

You stayed like that for a moment, soaking in the fresh feelings, her eyes holding yours before she was leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then another, and then eight more until she was content. And you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face even if you tried.

It took everything in you to separate from her but you could see her eyes now starting to blink sleepily at you and you knew after your emotional evening you were both close to crashing.

You went to the bathroom to change your clothes, hurrying through your night routine. When you returned to the room, she was stretched on your bed, hair dangling off the side as she stared up at the ceiling seemingly lost in thought. Your heart squeezed at the sight. You had missed her making herself comfortable in your room like it was her second home. It had been painful not having her here and pretending like you were okay without her but seeing her there, as if the past month hadn’t happened, made you feel a sense of relief you didn’t realize you needed.

When she noticed you were done, she pulled herself off the bed and took a few steps towards you. She gave you a sleepy smile and pressed another few kisses to your cheek before she slipped by to the bathroom.

You sunk down onto the mattress, slipping under your comforter and resting your head against your pillow. Your eyes strayed to the other side of the bed. Billie had spent many nights there, sleeping next to you. A few times you had woken up closer than you had fallen asleep. And you used to think that your desire to scoot closer to her on the bed, feel some part of her touching you before you slept, was nothing more than your platonic love for her. But now, sifting back through those memories, you knew it had always been different. Everything had been different with her. 

None of your friends were allowed to cuddle up to you like she was. None of them could be as touchy or affectionate as she was. Only she could call you silly pet names or lean her full body weight on to you while watching a movie or have designated closet space in your room. You realized now that you had had feelings for her for so much longer than you let yourself know and now after experiencing her unfiltered affection for you, you couldn’t believe you had waited this long to face it.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice was soft, breaking you out of your thoughts. She had already turned the lamp off and shut the door and was slipping into the bed next to you. You hadn’t even heard her come in.

“You,” you confessed, feeling little desire to conceal the last bits of your feelings. Tonight had been the night to lay everything out on the table.

“Oh really?” she mused, shuffling close so her face rested on the part of her pillow that was closest to yours.

You turned on your side to face her, tugging the covers up the both of you. She was fresh faced now, her skin rosy from the cold water she always used to wash her skin, plush from your moisturizer that she liked to steel that you started buying two of each time just for her. 

She reached out her hand to brush your hair back from your face, her nails lightly dragging on your skin and into your scalp, leaving a trail of tingles. 

“Just how,” you shuffled a touch closer to her until you could feel her chest touch yours and you could feel the warmth of her breath graze your lips, “I’ve had feelings for you longer than I realized.”

“Yeah?” she hummed, her eyes hooded as she stared at you, her other hand finding yours under the sheets and linking your fingers together. “How long?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, eyes blinking slowly at her, lulled by her soft touches and sleepy gaze. “But I think a really long time.”

She stared at you for a long moment, silent but continuing to stroke the side of your head. You wanted to know what she was thinking. You could see the thoughts whirring behind her eyes.

“I know when I realized,” she finally said, puncturing the silence. You squeezed her hand.

“When?” you asked.

She smiled at you, so softly you felt yourself turn nearly liquid under her gaze. Her eyes flickered to your lips but she stayed where she was, as if she was resisting the temptation so she could continue.

“Three years ago,” she said, eyes flickering back up to yours, “When we went to that diner at 1am and it was just the two of us. I don’t know what it was but something just clicked that night and I couldn’t see you any differently anymore.”

Her confession hung in the air and you let out a sigh, the words causing your heart to squeeze.

“That long?” you asked, an uncomfortable feeling settling low in your chest.

“Yeah,” she breathed and you wondered for a moment if she was nervous admitting it, like she hadn’t admitted it to anyone before.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize,” you murmured, a frown forming on your face. She moved her hand to swipe away the tension forming between your eyebrows.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she replied, a breathy laugh leaving her lips. “It not hard to fall in love with you.”

“But you had to hide it for this long,” you retorted, unable to stop your frown as you thought about how long she had to go acting like everything was normal when you cracked in a month.

“I wasn’t hiding it very well. I think you’re just unobservant,” she said and you let out a soft laugh at her words. 

Looking back, you realized she was right. As much as she got preferential treatment from you, you got the same from her. You were the only one she let drive her car. Only you were ever allowed to do her makeup or her skincare. Every night out she was always checking in on you and only you, making sure you were feeling well, staying sober enough to always drive you home. And only you were allowed to cross into her personal space, hug her, lay on her, or cuddle up to her in bed.

“I’m really dumb, aren’t I?” you muttered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. 

She laughed, her hand moving to cup the back of your neck, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw.

“Yeah,” she affirmed and you tried to glare at her but your lips were ticking up at the sides in a smile. 

You were quiet for another breath, feeling her leg brush up against yours. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” you finally asked the question that had been hanging over your head.

She stared at you, face contemplative as if she wasn’t even sure she knew the answer. Her hand found a loose strand of your hair and she brushed it through her fingers, coiling it around her pointer finger, tugging on it and then letting it loosen. She used to hesitate before she would touch you, like she had to be strategic about showing glimpses of affection, but now she was being open with her fondness, seeming to take any chance she could to touch you or kiss you or stare at you unabashed.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, curling the hair back behind your ear. She let out a soft sigh, letting her thumb graze the softness of your cheek.

“There were times that I wanted to. And times I got really close,” she breathed into the quiet of the room, her voice soft and honeyed and layered with buried emotion.

“But I always got too scared. Or something would get in the way. Or I just found an excuse because . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence but you knew what she was going to say. Because you would’ve rejected her.

Your heart clenched at the thought. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done had she confessed her feelings for you before you realized your own. It might’ve affected your friendship, which would’ve torn you both apart or it might’ve made you confront your feelings much quicker, avoiding this last painful month.

“But I was okay with just staying your friend. I just wanted you in my life somehow,” she confessed, a melancholic smile pulling at her lips.

“Even when I was seeing other people?” She grimaced at the thought but gave a small nod. 

“I mean, I didn’t love it. But I wanted you to be happy. I was gonna take whatever you were willing to give me.”

You felt your eyes start to sting, overwhelmed by the sudden flush of emotions at her words. 

“Are you crying again?” she breathed, surprise woven together with concern. 

“No, just, that was so sweet. I–,” you lost your words, moving to wipe the sudden tears threatening to spill from your lashes.

She let out a melodic laugh, moving her hand to cup the back of your head and pulling you in closer so she could press her lips to your cheek. You tilted your head and she took the hint to press her lips delicately against yours.

Her kiss tasted like mint and you could smell the jasmine moisturizer on her skin. Her hand trailed from your neck down over the curve of your hip until she was tugging you ever closer, urging your leg to drape over her side, her leg fitting seamlessly in between yours. For a fleeting moment when her lips strayed from yours to find the velvet juncture of your neck, you wondered if this was going too quickly, if the awkwardness of the unknown and freshness of your relationship would catch up with you but then her mouth found a sweet spot below your jaw and your head quieted down to a pleasant buzz.

“No more tears tonight,” she murmured against your skin, dragging the edge of her canines over goose bumped skin, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

Her hand pressed into the small of your back to urge you even closer, getting rid of any space left that had lingered between you. You barely had time to feel anxious at these new sensations, her lips tracing your neck like a map.

“I would’ve waited even longer for you so stop worrying about it,” she mumbled, pulling back for a brief moment to gaze at you through half-lidded ocean eyes.

Your heart was so beating rapidly in your chest you wondered if she had felt your pulse against her lips.

“I don’t worry,” you quipped, voice breathy and face hot.

“No?” Her eyebrows quirked and a sly smile tugged at her lips.

“Never,” you replied, swallowing hard as you felt your insides swim and flip at her heavy gaze.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, biting down on her lower lip, her eyes flickering back to yours. “If you say so.”

You would’ve retorted, another teasing comment or sarcastic quip to ease the feeling of anticipation growing in your stomach, but her lips had found yours again and you couldn’t remember much past that.

billie masterlist ✩

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 225/?

Billy Joel - Big Shot (1978)

"Well, you went uptown riding in your limousine,

With your fine Park Avenue clothes;

You had the Dom Pérignon in your hand

And the spoon up your nose.

Ooh, and when you wake up in the morning

With your head on fire

And your eyes too bloody to see,

Go on and cry in your coffee

But don't come bitchin' to me."

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond

A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch

“The Prince has asked for you.”

She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.

Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 

“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 

Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.

When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.

Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.

"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."

Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.

“Undress.”

The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.

Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.

She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.

Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.

As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.

His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.

Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.

Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.

Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"

"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."

Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.

With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 

She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.

They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.

She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.

She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.

"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.

She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"

Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."

She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.

He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"

Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."

Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 

"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[sparrowlucero]

Instead of discourse about showrunners and lesbians and whatever, I'm gonna bring a different type of discourse...whats ur fav and least Dr Whomst monsters. Hard mode: only the practical ones.

ok so I do like all the obvious ones, I like the angels, I like the vashta nerada, I like the not-things, I like the eternals. Here's a few deeper cuts (focusing on the tv show specifically):

they peaked with these maggots. they rock. pretty sure they're made with taxidermy? really great puppetry. I really like this thing:

what a cool design for this kind of forgotten midseason episode.

this is such a fun design for a langolier-type monster. I love how their crest and tail gives them the silhouette of a grim reaper

The 60s cybermen rock. I feel like they're hesitant to use them often in the modern show because they do look very 1960s but I think there's something really uncomfortable and evocative about the cloth faces that's lost when they're cool metallic robots. The mix between looking like an old diving suit and the implication of there being a chopped up person inside is gnarly and I love it. Simple, creepy, iconic design.

My favorite design in the show is probably this:

The 456 from the spinoff series torchwood. They didn't need the puppet to emote or move a ton since it spends the entire season in a little tank obscured in mist, so they just went crazy with the design and made it really bizarre looking. Extremely top tier alien. Anyways, negative. I really don't like this satan. the satan kind of sucks. the impossible planet is great atmospheric sci fi horror; every image of build up in it is haunting and leagues ahead of the climactic scene where he meets the satan. It singlehandedly kind of kills the vibe.

Personally I would have just kept the actual appearance off screen, just have it be eyes in the dark or something. Apparently they also tossed around the idea that it would end up being a normal little girl who was chained up in the cave and I think that would have visually fit the rest of the episode better.

I'm really not big on the modern design for the sea devils (the green one on the right). I think the classic ones clearly took a lot of direct influence from real animals and generally is a pretty thoughtfully realized design, the modern ones seem like they were first and foremost using the classic ones for reference and didn't quite capture the nuance of the design. Sad, as I would really like to see design for these guys with modern puppetry.

I think this is actually a pretty contentious opinion but the work of the specific studio who headed this redesign generally wasn't my favorite. Apparently there was some sort of major, semi public falling out between the fx studio that had been working on the show since 2005 and the people who started running the show in 2018, and they were briefly replaced with a much less experienced studio. No hate to them of course (I think this was actually their first job like, ever, and a lot of the work was done in crunch time?) but the difference did stand out to me:

[sabrondabrainrot]

Bring back LAES!

I'm steadily making progress on catching up on sun and moon show along with foxy and monty etc etc but it's pretty difficult when one of the main key plot lines is gone. I know a few spoilers thanks to fanfiction but I want to see the drama in person.

Here's some outfit ideas for tsams cause I'm a sucker for fashion and redesigns!

Order is, SolarFlare - Lunar - NewMoon - Old Moon - Sunny (Solar's dimension) - Sun

closeups and more brainrot under the cut!

Explaining my redesigns! Lunar - he's not really a redesign and more so an overdesign. I love adding tons of little details to him to really hammer home his star-ness. He's such an interesting little guy, like yes he acts childish but I can see he's really growing (SAD I CANT WATCH MORE CAUSE THE SHOW IS GONE). I saw the ep he killed Eclipse and homeboy revived. The entire time I was like "Waaahh Lunar??? Waaahhh???" but I love the drama ngl.

SolarFlare - Same as Lunar, not really a redesign I just drew him with no dirt. I really love his base design it's so neat it makes me think of like sci-fi concepts from the 80's. Something from fallout really. I think it's kind of funny Eclipse's aesthetics for SolarFlare when you compare him next to say Jack who Solar designed.

OldMoon - I just wanted to give him a sleek mad scientist cool guy suave vibe. I saw the more recent thumbnails of him with a turtle neck and idk that's just peak character design for me. I'm a simple woman put the dumb-dumb in a dark turtleneck. I want him to kind of look like the BadGuy TM (he's not actually) so he gets all edgy and hard edges and stuff.

NewMoon - I wanted to do a similar color scheme but instead he has lighter colors like more white incorporated into his fit. To give him the whole 'reborn' aesthetic. He's all like "old moon wore black well I wear white now I'm nothing like him so hah!" kinda thinking. I gave his cap a fur texture cause of that one ep he turned into a furry. I drew rounder stuff on him cause he's a big ol' softy sweety pie.

Sunny - Sunny is my headcanon of Sun from Solar's dimension. I think it's really interesting his default with no personality was theater performance and not say...doing daycare stuff? I feel like honoring the FNAF books with this design by leaning heavily into the theater performer look. I like to think in Solar's dimension Sun and Moon were originally made for theater. (so far in the show I've noticed Creator says 'they needed a daycare attendant' something like that so it comes off more like they were intended for the daycare from the start VS. Solar's dimension where Sunny's core seems to be more so for the performing arts.) I also wanted to make Sunny look different from Sun for the extra angst potential of "They're similar but not the same" so I leaned more into a blue palette for him.

Sun - I just wanted to give him big puffy everything. I took away the tutu. nothing against the tutu I just hate drawing the damn thing. I like to think Sun in main has white eyes because he's so burnt out from within. *badum tish* (eyes are the window to the soul-) I also covered him in stickers because he totally would just be covered in stickers from the kids. I also decided to give some of his rays cracks because I think he's extremely sentimental and even in a newly upgraded body (after using star power to defeat Eclipse the first time) he'd keep rays from his original body? I also put the cracks ones on the side of his face where Old Moon hit him. Why? Because it just seems like something Sun would do. I love him so.

Ok just some brainrot stuff, look away to avoid spoilers .

RUIN DESTROYED HOW MANY DIMENSIONS?? SOLARS DEAD. LUNAR KILLED ECLIPSE. DARK SUN IS PLOTTING??? MOON BE CRYING??? Also Francine just had a birthday! ONE OF THE BLOODMOON BOYS ARE DEAD AND SAME WITH ONE OF THE STITCHY BOYS??? HELLO?!?

I love the drama.

Also, I love how every single kid vibe checks Sun and he passes every time. Francine? She loves Sun and learns from him. FC? He ONLY feels safe with Sun for a bit. Barry? He hugged Sun after gonad checking him (a right of passage for the bunny kid). Jack? I'm pretty sure he literally is just one room away from Sun at all times (he also calls Sun's cats his master???). I have yet to see Dazzle, but Dazzle 10000% loves Sun (I've seen the edits).

ALSO? When Lunar was first brought into the family the first person he hugged was Sun and then later on when Earth was in danger he ran into SUN's arms for safety/comfort. They're family your honor.

Sobbing and Crying laying on the floor over Solar's death but I think he'll be back.

Also the molten thing with Ruin? I'm excited to see more.

I don't have a youtube account to post about saving LAES but if anyone wants me to draw more LAES just to help the community please let me know. I'm planning to draw my idea of Earth next.

[mancalledvenus]

you think i'm pretty?

nishinoya yuu x reader

summary: you and nishinoya are paired together for a class assignment that leads to you asking him for volleyball tips and him asking for your number ^_<

word count: 1.4k

a/n: not proofread and written at 1am so sorry if it's a tough read lmfao i'm trying to clean out my drafts. thank you for reading !

the school day had dragged on for longer than usual. you sighed as you slumped into your seat for the last class of the day: psychology. the course was probably designed specifically to drain your energy and spoil your mood. that’s what it felt like at least.

your teacher droned on about his weekend for a full ten minutes before announcing to the class he'd be pairing you randomly with one of your peers for the next presentation.

you felt your body start to fill with dread. internally praying you didn't get stuck with someone lazy that made you do all the heavy lifting. you listened carefully for your name as the teacher called them out.

"y/n l/n, you'll be working with nishinoya yuu." he gestured to the boy in the back of the class with his head down on the desk that was clearly not paying attention.

"great." you thought to yourself as you shuffled through the room to the back.

his head snapped up as he heard footsteps coming his way, but relaxed a bit when he realized you weren't the teacher. he sat up fully and leaned back in his chair, giving you a clear view of his face. as you examined his features and sat down in front of him it registered in your head that this was the same boy that played the libero position on your school's volleyball team.

reluctantly you decided to ask him about it. being in volleyball yourself you'd always been curious about his skill and took it as an opportunity.

"are.. are you on the boy's volleyball team?"

his eyes widened and he smiled as he answered your question, "yeah are you a fan?"

you scoffed a little and shook your head, "not exactly, but i've seen you play. i'm the libero for the girls team."

nishinoya had finally seemed to shake off his forced laid-back persona and was noticeably more energetic than before. a side of him that you'd recognized from when you peaked into the boy's gym on more than one occasion while they practiced. even though you told everyone you were there to pick up tips from more 'skilled' players, deep down a part of you kept returning to see the cute boy in the #4 jersey.

"that's awesome! i always see you in here and our chemistry class. had no idea you were into volleyball."

you shrugged and glanced down, "i dunno, i'm kinda new to the team still. i'm not that confident in my skills yet."

nishinoya frowned at your tone and shook his head, "it takes a lot of courage to just step on the court and play. if you're gonna be a good libero you have to make sure you're dependable. you can't be reliable if you're second guessing yourself like that!"

you nodded to yourself silently before looking back up at him. the look on his face was enough to encourage you in of itself. the reassurance from this, well stranger basically, gave you a great feeling of relief and you were starting to feel less burdened with worry.

"that's definitely something to consider," you sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, "still our team is kindaaa... underdeveloped? we're not bad, it's just like we're still figuring everything out, y'know?"

"ohh, yeah i get that." he nodded.

"i wish we had someone with more experience so they could guide me a little or something."

nishinoya nearly jumped out of his seat to lean closer to your face. "i could totally help you!" the volume of his voice caused the pair sitting near you to glare at you both a little irritated, but you didn't notice and neither did he. "i'm so down to help you out- especially if it'll benefit the team too! you guys gotta rep us at the girl's tournaments.. i didn't catch your name also, i'm so sorry."

"it's y/n," you laughed at his enthusiasm. "i wouldn't wanna burden you too much, but that sounds like a lot of fun."

"please, i'd be lucky to get to play with someone as pretty as you. i'm getting sick of my teammate's faces honestly."

you laughed again and bit the inside of your cheek trying to withhold an uncontrollable smile.

"you think i'm pretty?"

nishinoya's face turned red. he had a habit of running his mouth without thinking and even though he'd flirted with girls relentlessly before, something about you made him extremely flustered. maybe it was the way you'd been staring into his eyes? the way you’d been listening to him so attentively as he was talking?

god you’d barley said a few sentences to him and you were already making him sweat. how come he hadn’t noticed how close you were until a few seconds ago? was he really that zoned out talking about volleyball?

"i.. uhm, i mean.." he tensed up with his arms glued to his sides, "you can't really blame me for saying it, you're gorgeous.."

"wow he's forward." you thought quietly, still processing what he'd said. there was nothing but silence from the two of you and all you could focus on was how your heart clenched every time his eyes connected with your's.

unable to talk without stuttering all you could offer him in that moment was a flustered smile which he returned with a quiet laugh. gaining more coincidence he finally broke the silence, "y/n?"

just as you were about to recover from his previous remark, him saying your name was enough to completely knock you back off your feet.

"..yeah?"

"would you let me take you out sometime?"

"FUUCKKK HE'S SO CUTE." you raved internally. you got swept up in your thoughts again before panic started to settle in at the realization that you needed to actually reply to him.

blushing and astonished at his sudden bold behavior, what was intended to be words came out as a collection of incoherent mumbles, "you- wha.. you? you and me? imeanthatwouldn't- i.. serious.. really?"

"i'll take that as a maybe," he chuckled and grabbed his pen from off his notebook, "if that's too much of a commitment could i at least get your number?"

the stupid shit-eating grin on his face gave the impression he knew exactly what your next actions would be; and he did. you reached across the desk for the pen he held out to you and shyly smiled to yourself as you began to write your number on the back of his other hand he had stretched out to you as well. you gripped it softly and etched the numbers on his skin.

the minute you finished writing he pulled his hand to his face swiftly. his eyes practically twinkling in excitement as he admired your penmanship.

his eagerness as he whipped his phone out of his pocket and began copying the numbers made you giggle, "why didn't you just hand me your phone in the first place, silly?"

"honestlyy," he began and you rolled your eyes realizing he was about to say something annoyingly charming and dumb, "i really only wanted you to hold my hand.. at the end of the day i am a simple man." the threw his hands up as he explained himself.

"you're so stupid." you held his pen in your teeth to chew on the cap. "i'm keeping your pen for that."

"i'll give you every pen i can find if that's all it costs."

you blushed a bright shade of pink and pushed his head down so he's looking downward at the desk, "n-nishinoya. we haven't started the assignment." you brushed his comment off and tried desperately to get him to pay attention to the papers sprawled across his desk.

the remainder of the class was him flirting with you and you trying not to completely lose your shit while also trying to get your work done (you guys didn't even finish reading the instructions).

______________________________________________________________

after school during the boy's practice.

"TANAKA. I DID IT I GOT HER NUMBER!!" noya nearly ran over hinata and yamaguchi running to find his friend.

tanaka's eyes followed the sound of the familiar voice to find noya rushing through the door, "Huh, who's? ..Y/N'S?"

"YEAH!! i played it sooo cool too. i pretended to not know her name and everything! seriously, every time she looked at me i almost died. her smile bro- her smile is sooo pretty-"

"prettier than mine?" tanaka smiled and folded his arms while listening to his rambling.

"don't interrupt me!" noya huffed before continuing, "she plays volleyball! did you know? god i got her number!"

"it was about time my man!" the two shook hands as their giddy shouts echoed throughout the gym.

almost immediately they were shushed by ukai for being too loud then scolded again by daichi then laughed at by yamaguchi and tsukishima, but in that moment nothing anyone could say to him would put a dent in nishinoya's mood.

______________________________________________________________

the end !

[killergee]

Hi, hi! First thing first, im in love with your hoshina x designer weapon reader! It's really warm my heart!! (I LOVE IT TO THE CORE HEHBFJSHDHC😭🫶🫶🫶 BLESS U)

Can i request you (this is kinda awkward) i want to see Highschool AU! For Hoshina x Reader. Kendo player! Hoshina x Archer! Reader👉👈 i would love to see them bantering each other (of if it's not Highschool AU! You can use the close range user! Bf x long range user! Gf thing!)

Thank you!

Ahhh my first request, how exciting! Sorry for posting so late. So many things have been happening lately. Also had to do some research and ended up watching tsurune LOL.

Here's a bunch of little stories of your life as Archer! Reader x Kendo! Hoshina.

Part 2 (one shot)

Synopsis: The club captains of the kendo and the kyudo (archery) club don't seem to get along. Or rather, that's how the club members see it.

---------------------------

"Oi, what do ya think you're doing? The kendo club's got this gym booked for today."

Toppled on top of each, the members of the kendo club huddled nervously outside the door to their gym. They could only take small peaks and glances from their place as they were all too scared to step foot inside.

All except one.

The Captain of the Kendo team, Hoshina, was the only one who dared to enter the gym. Standing tall with his arms crossed, he gave you a menacing glare.

Rising from your kneeling position, you exhaled a tired breath and put your training bow down. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see your name on the registrar, so I presumed the gym was empty and booked it." Despite the courteous words, your apology dripped of insincerity and a smidge of condescension. "Had you actually done your job correctly, this could've been avoided."

The members of your own club shifted awkwardly. Exchanging knowing glances, they braced themselves to watch their Captain go at it once again with the rival club Captain.

Hoshina lets out a scoff as he rolled his eyes at your attitude. He ignored your comment and continued on with his interrogration. "What are ya even doing here, ya can't shoot in here. Why aren't you in the kyudo hall?"

"It's under repair, and kyudo isn't only about shooting. I gotta teach the newbies the correct form before they can even touch a bow." You stated before offering a fake smile. "Why don't you go build your stamina with some laps? It's not good to slack on basic fitness."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you? When's the last time ya used your legs?"

After a brief moment, Hoshina flashed his own small smile, although there was nothing friendly behind it. He leaned down until his face was a mere couple inches from yours. He knew you hated the height difference. That you hated the fact that there was something he had over you. Going by the tiniest twitch in your perfectly crafted smile, he knew he was right.

"Hey, give me the room, and I'll play nice and let you watch us practice. Maybe then you'll learn something of actual worth." He suggested, feeling a deep satisfaction at the slight clench of your fist.

"I don't understand the need to swing a big sword. Overcompensating for something?"

"Ah, and I suppose hitting a massive target from far away is much more impressive."

"Oh my, if you think a target that's only thirty-six centimeters is massive, then I'm definitely worried for you."

"Are dick jokes the only jokes you can make? Are you a child?"

"Sorry, did I hit too close to home?"

A vein popped on his cheek. He could never really get a handle on your snake-like tongue.

Everyone felt the heavy tension and chill in the air. The first years had trouble believing that the two people squabbling like children were their beloved Captains.

You were known for your kindness and elegance. But you knew when to be soft and when to push harder. Where you went, people's eyes would follow whether consciously or not. You were the most talented kyudo archer the school has ever seen and an equally good captain.

Hoshina was among the top strongest kendo player in the division. Diligent. Attentive. Trustworthy. His laidback attitude attracted a lot of people, but when his serious nature slipped through during matches—that's when it was impossible to take your eyes off of him.

You two rarely crossed paths, but when you did, it was a blood bath. You two brought out the worst in each other. Or maybe you simply brought out each other's competitive streak.

All the members of their respective club could only pray for the day the two of you stop bickering.

---------------------------------

"I heard you guys passed the preliminaries," you said as you sat and watched him practice. It was late into the evening, and only the two of you were still in school. You had locked up the kyudo hall but saw how the lights were still on in the kendo dojo. Curiosity got the best of you, and you went to see who was still practicing.

"Congrats," you said quietly, barely audible to anyone around you.

"Oh, sorry, what was that? Awww, are ya congratulatin' me? I'm so honoured, oh, glorious captain." He jested back, pausing his activities against the training dummy. He stopped because he's had enough practice and shouldn't overexert himself. He definitely didn't stop because he wouldn't hear you against the sound of the strikes.

"Whatever, your opponents were shit anyways. It would've been harder for you to lose."

He lets out a low whistle at your words.

"Way to ruin the moment." He said, beginning to take off his armor. Placing his wooden sword at the stand, he peeled off his gloves.

Then, realization hit Hoshina, and he froze. The corner of his lip curled into a dangerous smirk as he turned to look at you.

"Wait, does that mean ya watched me compete?"

You flushed a pretty shade of pink and looked away from his amused eyes.

"Well, we're hosting the tournament this year, and I happened to pass by the dojo, so I just took a look."

"Right..." He chuckled. "Your preliminaries are tomorrow, right?"

You nod your head as you get up from your spot. The way you stretched your arms above your head reminded him of a cat.

"Yup, and we're gonna show you guys why we're number one in the division, unlike you guys who are only what again? Right, second."

"Hope you miss." He grunted in response. Though, despite the gruff words, Hoshina found that there wasn't actually any bite to his remarks nowadays. His once heated bitter words are now nothing more than poorly disguised teases.

At hearing your chuckle, he looked up at you, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Me? Miss?"

The look in your eyes was hypnotizing.

"Never."

---------------------------------------------------

Why others seemed to admire you was beyond Hoshina's understanding. You were immature, vain, cocky, rude, and knew exactly which buttons to push to annoy him. If people saw the side of you he got to see, they would run for the hills.

Walking from the main school building to the dojo, he heard the faint but recognizable sound of the kyudo bow releasing an arrow.

Ah, that's right. You should be playing right now.

He stopped in his place as he looked to the direction of the sound. He had to pass the kyudo hall anyway to get to the dojo, is what he told himself before he changed course to take the longer route to the dojo.

There was a crowd gathered around the hall by the time he made it there. Not wanting to be seen, he kept to the edges of the crowd but still in a good enough spot that he had a good view of the archers.

Hoshina thinks to himself that he'll only stay to watch your first shot as he watched you ceremoniously kneel with your bow and arrow.

However, he found himself stuck in his place as he watched your elegant and meticulous gestures. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't tear his eyes away from your figure as you drew your bow. He didn't know much about kyudo, but he couldn't help but think that your draw was beautiful.

Everything about you screamed confidence and assurance. With the twang of the bow string, the arrow released and hit dead centre of the target.

Like always.

By the time he realized he's stayed longer than he should've, you had fired 5 shots. Not a single arrow missed the target.

The cocky smile that bloomed on your face as you lowered the bow and admired your work made his heart race.

Huh... so that's why so many people are head over heels for you.

He left before your team could celebrate the victory.

---------------------------------------------------

As the season continued, you two made it a habit to stay later than usual when practicing. Whoever would finish first would go to the other and watch or tell them to pack it up.

As captains in your last year, both of you needed to win your tournaments.

"Don't ya ever get tired? Or are the rumours true and you're actually a robot?" Hoshina said with his head resting on his bag as he sat and watched you.

"Only partly, actually," you quipped back before drawing another arrow. "One more shot."

"And how many times have ya said that?" He asked looking at your target filled with dozens of arrows. Unlike what he was used to seeing, a third of your shots were off target.

"Can't afford to miss. "

"Ya need to go home."

"No"

Hoshina rolled his eyes at your stubborness. "You think this is going to help ya? You're just burnin' yourself out."

Although you lowered your bow at that, your focus does not move away from your target. "We were one point away from not advancing to finals. I need to be perfect. My team is depending on me. I can't afford to drag my team down or disappoint them."

At one point in time, he'd have paid someone to bring you down a peg. Now, however, his heart twisted at seeing you doubting yourself.

"Listen, I know the pressure better than anyone else. This tournament is important to me too. But ya just need to have faith in the skills that you've built up over these years. You've earned the title of best kyudo player for a reason." He sat up straighter when you finally turned to look at him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, "also, have faith in your team. They've worked hard and don't want to disappoint you either. Don't forget you're in a team, afterall."

You stared at him for a moment before giggling. Your giggle turned into a full-blown laugh at his pout.

"Now why's that so funny?"

"No, no," you managed to say as you try to collect your composure. "I just never imagined getting a pep talk from my arch nemesis."

A smile replaced Hoshina's pout. "I'm your arch nemesis?"

"Aren't I yours?" You jested back as you began putting away your equipment.

Were you? Arch nemesis wouldn't be the words he'd use to describe you. He didn't quite like the idea of you only being a rival to him.

His on the other hand. Now, that didn't sound too bad.

With your back turned to him, he called out to you, making you turn to him.

"Here."

You caught whatever he threw at you before it could hit you. Sitting in your palm was a key chain with a cat shaped charm, and beside it, an omamori charm with the embroidery "victory."

"Hasn't really been working on me, so you might as well try it," he said, looking rather bashful.

You let out another laugh at his actions. "Can't be owing you, here's mine," you said amused, removing the charm that hung on your bag and tossing it to him.

"It might give you my luck, but I doubt it'll be able to give you my amazing skills. So don't put too much pressure on it."

The charm was of a heart with an arrow through it and a wooden good-luck charm with the engraving "grind them to dust."

"How fitting," hoshina said outloud as he held the charm in his palm.

"Oh yea," you chuckled. "The statement is quite aggressive, but I thought it was funny"

"Hmmm? Oh yea, that too." Before you could even think twice about his statement, he closed his palm around the charm and gave you a determined look.

"Let's win this."

You couldn't help but smile. "That goes without saying."

---------------------------------------------------

Bonus:

"Hey, isn't that Hoshina's charm?" One of your club members asked curiously as they stretched on the ground. Although the rest of the members pretended they weren't listening in, they were dying to know why you had it. They were able to spot it right away when they saw it on your school bag. It was the charm that Hoshina kept on his bag for all the years they've known him. They also couldn't forget how the Kendo members were forced to stay after school to search for the charm when he lost it.

"Yeah," you responded matter of factly as you stood and watched them.

"Why? I thought you two hated each other?"

"Now, who ever told you that?" You responded slyly.

Their mouths hung open at your statement. Were you gaslighting them? Or were you just pretending you didn't pick a fight with Hoshina every chance you got.

"Oi, y/n hurry up. I'm hungry"

At the voice, they all snapped their heads to look at the owner of the charm himself. Leaning against the doorframe, he was in his school uniform with his bag tucked under his arm.

"Yea, yea, coming old man, don't be so pushy," you said, making your way towards him. When he turned to head out, the members saw your unforgettable charm hanging from his bag.

"You buying lunch this time or is it my turn?" They heard you say as the both of you walked by the window of the gym.

"Don't remember. Let's just say it's my turn. " Hoshina responded with what they think was a smile.

"What the fuck just happened."

[novaursa]

Legacy (alliances)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Events of the story and timeline don't match canon events.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: by his design

- Next part: golden roses

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

A quiet, breathless shudder escapes your lips as you find your release, your fingers gripping Tywin’s shoulders as he reaches his own peak. His gaze never wavers from yours, a rare flicker of satisfaction playing over his features as he watches the pleasure ripple through you. Yet, the look in his eyes is not just one of simple satisfaction or pride—it’s something deeper, something restrained, as though he is pleased with not only the moment but with your very surrender to it.

In the silence that follows, you lie close to him, your breathing steadying as you study his face, the sharp angles softened slightly in the dim candlelight. He still has that calculating look, one he wears as naturally as his armor. His fingers trail idly down your arm, possessive yet thoughtful, a hand resting over yours in a rare moment of calm.

“You know,” you murmur, your voice a low hum in the quiet chamber, “when I was a princess, there was a time I never imagined I’d end up here. Lying beside you, in the Tower of the Hand, talking to you… like this.”

He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “You are still a princess,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. “Your titles did not disappear with your family’s fortunes.”

“True,” you concede, tracing a finger over the silk sheets. “But in King’s Landing, a princess without a court is little more than a name. A reminder of things lost.” Your words carry a hint of wistfulness, though you mask it quickly, refusing to let any sign of vulnerability linger.

Tywin studies you for a moment, his gaze more penetrating than before, as though he’s seeing something hidden beneath your words. “Loss can shape a person more than power ever could,” he says quietly, surprising you with the edge of understanding in his voice. “It gives them resilience, purpose. That is something I’ve seen in you, long before this.”

You turn to him, caught off guard by his words. “Long before?” A slight smile tugs at your lips, and you search his face for any sign of jest. “Tywin Lannister… were you watching me even back then?”

He regards you with a level expression, the faintest hint of a smirk in his eyes. “Once, perhaps. It was at the tourney in Harrenhal. You wore a blood red ribbon in your hair, and I remember thinking that the color suited you—a rare splash of Valyrian fire among the grey stones.”

You blink, surprised by his recollection. The memory is distant, barely a moment in time to you, but to hear Tywin recall it so vividly brings it back with surprising clarity. “I… had no idea you noticed me then,” you reply softly, still processing this revelation. “It was such a small thing—a ribbon, barely more than a whim.”

“Small things often reveal the most,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “That ribbon marked you as a Targaryen among the gathered nobility. You knew you were watched, judged for every step, every turn of your head. And yet… you wore it anyway, with pride.”

A strange warmth stirs in your chest at his words, and you look away for a moment, uncertain of how to respond. The memory of that day returns to you—the weight of expectation, the pressure to embody the Targaryen legacy even as a child. That he remembers such a detail is unexpected, yet somehow feels like a silent acknowledgment of the strength you carried even then.

“I never thought anyone would remember such a detail,” you admit quietly, turning back to him. “Especially not you.”

He tilts his head, his hand still resting against yours, the faintest shadow of a smile crossing his lips. “I remember many things others overlook. Strength often lies in moments that seem insignificant to those who lack vision.”

There’s a certain vulnerability in his words, one you hadn’t anticipated, and it feels almost like peeling away a layer of his armor, revealing something beneath the hardened exterior. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable; rather, it feels like a rare understanding, one built on a foundation of shared experience, of knowing what it is to bear a legacy that others will never fully grasp.

“You’ve always been watching, then,” you say, your tone carrying a note of irony but also gratitude. “Even when I didn’t know.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his voice carrying an unmistakable finality. “And you would do well to remember that.” He leans closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a rare, quiet gesture that feels almost like reverence.

You lie together in silence, the weight of past and present mingling in the quiet chamber. For once, words seem unnecessary, replaced instead by an understanding that binds you in a way deeper than duty, or legacy—an unspoken recognition of the strength that has brought you both to this moment.

Cersei swept into her father’s chambers, her expression tightly controlled but her posture rigid with frustration. She held a letter in her hand, the Tyrell rose seal already broken, but Tywin could see her attention was barely on the parchment. Instead, her gaze flickered between him and the room around them, as though searching for something unsaid.

“Father,” she greeted, her tone polite but strained. She lifted the letter. “We’ve received word from Highgarden. The Tyrells will be arriving in the capital soon. No doubt with their usual parade of feigned grace and ambition.”

Tywin, seated behind his desk, merely nodded. “Good. We have plans to discuss with them, particularly in light of the recent… changes within the court.” He regarded her, his gaze unwavering. “I expect you to welcome them graciously, Cersei. Whatever differences we may have, our unity must appear unbreakable.”

Cersei’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with resentment. “I hardly think the Tyrells are what you’re most interested in discussing with me.” She took a step closer, her expression sharpening. “One moon, Father. One moon since you married her, and you still haven’t thought to explain yourself to your own children.”

Tywin’s face remained impassive, his gaze calm but cold. “There is nothing to explain, Cersei. I’ve made a decision that benefits our house. This marriage is a part of a plan long in place, one that serves the interests of House Lannister and consolidates our strength. That’s all you need to understand.”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with bitterness. “A plan long in place? A decision that’s best for our house?” She let out a hollow laugh. “This was a choice that stripped your own family of dignity. You never once consulted me—or Jaime, for that matter. You took it upon yourself to marry a woman a little older than your own children, and you call it strategy.”

Tywin’s gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Enough, Cersei,” he warned, his tone steely. “I am the head of this family, and my decisions are not up for debate. This marriage was not some impulsive choice. It was carefully considered, and I expect you to respect that.”

But Cersei’s anger only grew, her voice rising as she held her ground. “Respect? Respect is earned, Father, and you’ve given us none.” She took a step forward, her face a mask of barely controlled fury. “Tell me, what is it that you truly intend with this marriage? Do you plan to replace all of us with a new brood of dragonspawn?” Her words dripped with venom, and her fists clenched at her sides.

Tywin’s expression darkened, a rare flash of anger crossing his normally impassive face. He rose slowly from his seat, his gaze fierce as he regarded his daughter. “Mind your words, Cersei,” he said, his voice low and cold. “You are speaking of your family, of a marriage that has brought strength to House Lannister. Any children that may come of it will bear my name, and they will be Lannisters in every way that matters.”

Cersei scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. “Lannisters?” she echoed, her voice filled with contempt. “They may bear your name, Father, but they will never truly be Lannisters. They will be Targaryens, dragon-blooded children that you think will be your legacy. But what of us? What of your own blood, the children you raised?”

Tywin’s gaze was icy, his voice as unyielding as iron. “This marriage has nothing to do with replacing anyone. It has everything to do with securing the future of our house. You, Jaime, and Tyrion remain my children. But House Lannister must adapt, or it will fall. This union is a part of that adaptation.”

Cersei shook her head, her face a mixture of fury and disbelief. “Adaptation?” she repeated, her voice laced with bitterness. “You think you can replace us with a new line, with heirs who will carry both the lion and the dragon? You’ve sacrificed our family’s dignity, cast us aside like pieces on a game board. You’ve betrayed us, Father.”

Tywin’s face tightened, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger. “Betrayed you?” he hissed, his voice dangerously low. “I have done everything for this family, everything to ensure our survival. This marriage is not a betrayal—it is a means to ensure our future, to strengthen our influence. Your personal grievances mean nothing in the face of that.”

Cersei’s gaze was fierce, defiant, as she met his anger with her own. “You may be able to convince yourself of that, Father, but don’t expect me to accept it so easily.” She turned on her heel, her voice filled with disdain. “But remember this—whatever children come of this marriage, they will always be a reminder of your betrayal. And they will never be true Lannisters.”

With that, she stormed out of the chamber, leaving Tywin standing alone, his expression dark and thunderous. 

The midday sun filtered softly through the latticework above, casting delicate patterns over the table where you and Sansa sat, enjoying an array of treats brought from the kitchens—warm honeycakes, fresh fruits, and spiced wine, filling the air with a comforting sweetness. The courtyard was serene, tucked away from the rest of the Red Keep, making it a perfect spot for an intimate respite from the world of politics and intrigue that surrounded you both.

Sansa was laughing, a light sound you hadn’t heard in far too long, as she recounted memories of her younger siblings at Winterfell, her blue eyes bright with a warmth that softened her usual wariness.

“And Arya,” she chuckled, reaching for a honeycake, “she once hid my favorite dress because she didn’t want me to go to a feast. She thought it would keep me in my room.” She shook her head, a fond smile lingering on her lips. “She always found ways to cause trouble, but I think… I think she just wanted me near her.”

You smiled warmly, indulging in the sweetness of the moment. “It sounds like Arya,” you said softly. “A spirit like hers isn’t easily subdued, even in the darkest times. She is—”

Before you could finish, a familiar, almost ethereal voice cut through the quiet. “Forgive the interruption, my ladies.”

You both looked up to see Varys approaching, his expression as smooth and enigmatic as ever. Draped in his soft robes, he moved with practiced grace, a smile touching his lips as he regarded you and Sansa, his hands folded neatly before him.

“Lord Varys,” you greeted with polite surprise, inclining your head slightly. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Sansa’s smile faded a bit, replaced by her usual guarded expression, but she nodded respectfully. “Lord Varys.”

Varys bowed his head, his eyes glinting with a knowing warmth. “I hope I am not intruding on a much-needed respite. It’s rare to find such a lovely gathering here in the Red Keep,” he remarked, his gaze flitting between the two of you as though he were savoring a rare sight.

“You are welcome to join us,” you offered, gesturing to the treats spread on the table. “We were simply enjoying the sun and a few memories of Winterfell.”

“Ah, Winterfell,” Varys murmured, his tone wistful as he settled into a seat. “A place I have heard much about but never had the privilege of visiting. I imagine it must hold memories worth savoring, especially in times like these.”

Sansa glanced at him warily, but she nodded. “Yes, Lord Varys. Winterfell was… home. More than this place could ever be.” She looked away, her gaze distant for a moment before she focused back on you, seeking reassurance in your presence.

Varys inclined his head, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “It is said that even in the darkest of places, memories can serve as a lantern, a light to guide us forward.” He looked to you, a subtle yet meaningful gaze holding yours for a fraction longer. “And we should always remember where we come from… for it often shapes where we are going.”

You felt the weight of his words, the unspoken support woven delicately within them. “Wise words, Lord Varys,” you replied, matching his tone with a subtle smile. “It’s a reminder worth heeding.”

Varys’s smile softened, and he looked to Sansa with a gentleness that was both unexpected and sincere. “Lady Sansa, you have endured much, but you carry yourself with strength that rivals the greatest of houses. The North must be proud of you.”

Sansa shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond, but she managed a soft, “Thank you, my lord,” her cheeks faintly flushed.

“And you, my lady,” Varys continued, turning his attention back to you. “You have navigated your return to King’s Landing with a grace that even the most seasoned courtiers would struggle to match. It is no easy task, yet you make it appear effortless.”

You held his gaze, sensing the deeper meaning beneath his words. “One does what one must, Lord Varys,” you replied, your voice calm but resolute. “Especially when one’s duty calls for it.”

He nodded slowly, his expression reflective. “Indeed. But strength such as yours often calls for more than mere duty. It demands resilience, an unwavering spirit. Qualities I believe are not so easily subdued.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of his support—a silent promise, hidden beneath his careful phrasing. It was rare for Varys to speak so openly, and even rarer still for him to display such subtle encouragement.

Sansa, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity, glanced between the two of you, her unease momentarily softened by the unspoken alliance she sensed but didn’t fully understand.

Varys rose gracefully, bowing his head. “I will leave you both to your midday respite. But know, my ladies, that even in a place like King’s Landing, there are those who watch over… with genuine intentions.”

He met your gaze one last time, a faint glimmer of something almost reassuring in his eyes, before he took his leave, his robes sweeping softly as he disappeared down the garden path.

As silence settled over the table once more, you looked to Sansa, her expression a mixture of confusion and awe. “Lord Varys…” she whispered, her brows drawn together. “What did he mean by all that?”

You smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “He means that even here, in the heart of intrigue and deceit, there are still people we can trust. Allies can be found in the most unexpected places.”

The throne room was bathed in the stark light of mid-afternoon, as you entered, you could feel the weight of the room’s history settle over you, memories of your family lingering in every corner. The Iron Throne loomed at the far end, a twisted monument of power, and there, at its foot, stood Tywin, flanked by a clearly irritated Joffrey.

Joffrey’s gaze flicked to you the moment you entered, his face twisted with barely concealed annoyance. He looked you up and down, his lips curling slightly, as though he wanted nothing more than to remind you of your “place.” It was clear he saw your presence here as a slight, an opportunity to belittle. But as his mouth opened, Tywin turned, his sharp gaze falling on the young king with a sternness that silenced him immediately.

Joffrey’s mouth snapped shut, his face flushing with anger, though he didn’t dare challenge Tywin. Instead, he let out a frustrated huff, turning abruptly and signaling to his Kingsguard with a flick of his hand. Ser Meryn and Ser Boros followed him, their armor clanking as they fell into step behind him, leaving you and Tywin alone in the vast, echoing hall.

The moment the heavy doors shut behind Joffrey, Tywin’s expression softened, his shoulders easing ever so slightly as he turned to you. His gaze, sharp as ever, softened with a hint of warmth, a rare show of his approval.

"Forgive the interruption," he began, his voice carrying a note of apology rarely heard from him. “The young king is… proving challenging to advise.”

You managed a small smile, stepping closer. “I can imagine, my lord,” you replied, your voice even. “It appears he lacks the patience for wise counsel.”

Tywin allowed himself a rare sigh, a flicker of irritation at his grandson showing as he shook his head. “Indeed. But his temperament is the least of our concerns for now.” He paused, studying you with a thoughtful gaze before continuing. “The Tyrells are arriving soon, as expected. Their influence and loyalty are… essential for the realm’s stability. Their support is crucial to our position here.”

You inclined your head, considering his words carefully. “House Tyrell wields considerable power, especially in the Reach. I imagine they are expecting more than mere titles in exchange for their loyalty.”

Tywin’s mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile. “Precisely. Margaery Tyrell’s engagement to Joffrey has already begun to cement the alliance, but they will want more—a deeper investment in the realm, influence over key decisions.” His gaze turned calculating. “I will be meeting with Mace Tyrell to discuss the terms of their alliance. Their ambition is considerable, but it can be shaped to suit our purposes.”

You met his gaze steadily, appreciating the insight he allowed you to glimpse. It was rare for Tywin to share so openly, even with those closest to him. “And how may I be of assistance in this, my lord?”

Tywin stepped closer, his voice lowering as he addressed you. “Your presence and composure at court have not gone unnoticed. The Tyrells, like many in King’s Landing, are curious about you, about the… union you and I have formed. They’ll watch you closely, especially Margaery, who is known for her charm and astuteness.”

You nodded, understanding his implication. “You want me to present myself as part of this alliance, as a demonstration of House Lannister’s strength and unity.”

Tywin’s gaze held yours, his approval unmistakable. “Exactly. Let them see that the Lannisters are more than just the sum of our titles and wealth. We are a unified force, and every member of this family, including you, represents that power.” He paused, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Your composure will send a message that no words could convey.”

You inclined your head, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Very well, my lord. I shall ensure the Tyrells see only the strength and unity of House Lannister.”

For a moment, Tywin regarded you, a look of quiet admiration softening the edges of his usually impassive expression. “You have adapted well,” he said, his voice laced with a rare note of sincerity. “More than I could have anticipated.”

Your gaze softened, allowing yourself a moment of honesty. “I’ve learned from the best, my lord,” you replied, a glimmer of warmth in your tone.

Tywin’s eyes met yours, and a rare, subtle smile flickered across his face, a gesture that was brief but genuine. “Very good,” he murmured, his voice low, as though speaking only for you. “Then we are well-prepared for whatever challenges lie ahead.”

As you and Tywin exchanged a final look, the heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Tyrion strode in with a briskness that hinted at urgency. He held a stack of parchments in his hand, each one bearing the seal of the crown’s finances, the weight of his responsibility as Master of Coin clearly wearing on him. He cast you both a knowing look, his gaze lingering a moment longer on you, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Father, Lady Y/N,” Tyrion greeted, inclining his head with a formal nod. His voice held its usual sharp edge, but there was a glint of humor in his eyes. “I apologize for the intrusion, but it appears our coffers are hemorrhaging gold faster than I can manage. The Tyrells’ arrival is proving to be quite the costly affair.”

Tywin’s expression turned stony, his brows knitting together as he took in Tyrion’s words. “Explain,” he commanded, his voice clipped.

Tyrion lifted a parchment, reading off the details with a feigned theatrical flair. “Lavish feasts, grand accommodations, servants for each member of their esteemed house, silks and brocades for Margaery’s arrival—nothing but the finest, of course. Our dear King Joffrey has insisted that the capital reflects ‘the crown’s generosity.’”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the news. “Generosity,” he repeated, his voice laced with disdain. “More like extravagance. The crown is in debt, and yet Joffrey sees fit to squander what little we have on displays of opulence.”

Tyrion’s smile didn’t fade as he replied, “It appears that ‘generosity’ has become synonymous with ‘indulgence’ in our dear king’s vocabulary. I thought it prudent to inform you before the entirety of the Reach decides to drink and dine us into ruin.”

Tywin’s gaze turned steely, his mind already calculating the implications. “Ensure that the expenditures are curtailed,” he ordered sharply. “House Tyrell is an ally, not a host of kings. They should not expect to be received with such excess.”

Tyrion bowed his head, a mockery of submission in his gesture. “As you command, Father. I shall trim the expenses as best I can and manage their expectations—though I suspect Lady Margaery may find it a… disappointment.”

Tywin merely gave a curt nod, his attention shifting back to you with that familiar calculating gaze. Tyrion, however, seized the moment, turning to you with a more genuine smile.

“And as for you, my lady,” he began, his tone warming with a touch of humor, “it seems we haven’t had the chance to properly toast to this new… union of ours. A remarkable occasion, indeed.” He raised an eyebrow, his expression inviting, though there was something else in his gaze—an unspoken offer of understanding, of camaraderie.

Tywin’s expression turned stern, his gaze shifting sharply between you and Tyrion. “Your… gentlemanly gestures are noted, Tyrion, but I expect you to conduct yourself with respect. Lady Y/N is—”

Tyrion raised a hand, cutting him off with a knowing smile. “Father, please. I shall be the very picture of decorum. A toast in private is all I ask.” He gave you a quick wink, adding, “I wouldn’t dream of keeping her long.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, clearly displeased, but after a moment, he gave a begrudging nod. “Very well. Do not delay her for long.”

Tyrion inclined his head, his expression one of polite triumph. “Of course, Father. I promise to return Lady Y/N to you precisely as she was.”

You met Tywin’s gaze, offering a small nod of assurance before turning to follow Tyrion out of the throne room. As the doors closed behind you, Tyrion’s smile grew, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he guided you down the corridor.

“A private toast,” he murmured, a chuckle in his voice. “I suspect we both have much to say about this rather… unexpected arrangement.” He offered you his arm, his expression light but his eyes sharp. “Shall we?”

Tyrion led you down a quieter corridor, away from the bustling halls and watchful eyes of the court, to a smaller, private room tucked within the Tower of the Hand. The chamber was dimly lit, with shelves of old tomes lining the walls and a small table in the center. Tyrion moved with ease, his familiarity with this space evident as he gestured for you to sit and began pouring a deep red wine into two goblets.

“True to my word, my lady,” Tyrion said with a charming grin, extending a goblet to you. “To toasting a most remarkable alliance.” He raised his glass, meeting your gaze with a glint of mischief.

You took the goblet, mirroring his gesture. “To alliances,” you replied, amusement lacing your tone as you clinked your glass against his.

Tyrion’s eyes sparkled as he took a sip, settling comfortably into his seat across from you. “I must say, I expected many things in my life, but gaining a Targaryen for a stepmother was not one of them,” he chuckled. “Life certainly knows how to keep us on our toes, doesn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, raising an eyebrow. “It seems King’s Landing is never short of surprises. But I must admit, having you as a stepson is a rather unexpected delight, Tyrion.”

His grin widened, appreciating your humor. “A most pleasant turn of events, indeed,” he agreed, his voice warm but thoughtful. “And I find myself more curious than ever about my new family. Particularly the… circumstances surrounding certain recent events.”

You took a sip of the wine, savoring the smoothness, watching him over the rim of your goblet. “Oh?” you replied with a faint smile. “I’m certain there’s little more to know, Tyrion.”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned back. “You say that, but my brother Jaime mentioned something intriguing. Reports about how you were captured near High Heart before being brought to Harrenhal.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice lowering as if savoring the mystery. “Not the most direct route to the rest of the south, I’d say. An interesting place to be traveling alone, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help the amused smile that touched your lips, recognizing his game. “High Heart is an ancient and mysterious place, as I’m sure you know, Tyrion. It has a certain… reputation. But then, I suppose such things don’t always require explanation.”

Tyrion’s grin deepened, his curiosity growing as he watched you carefully. “Ah, I see. So, our newest Lady Lannister is also one for secrets.” He took another sip of wine, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. “And here I thought we’d entered into this family as open books.”

You chuckled softly, holding his gaze. “Some books are best read between the lines,” you replied, matching his subtlety with your own.

Tyrion let out a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the dance of words. “Well played, my lady, well played indeed. Jaime has a nose for unusual details, and he wasn’t wrong to be intrigued. High Heart is known for its… unusual visitors and its strange history.”

You merely tilted your head, taking another sip, neither confirming nor denying his observation. “The past often whispers to those willing to listen,” you replied smoothly, meeting his gaze. “Perhaps I was simply drawn by curiosity.”

Tyrion regarded you, his expression a mixture of admiration and amusement. “Curiosity… a dangerous companion in a place like King’s Landing, wouldn’t you agree? But then again,” he added, raising his glass in another toast, “it’s also the mark of a clever mind.”

You inclined your head, meeting his toast, the silence between you charged with an understanding neither of you spoke aloud.

Finally, Tyrion leaned back, studying you with genuine warmth. “Whatever secrets you carry, Lady Y/N, I am glad to have you here. It’s been far too long since anyone in this family possessed both wit and mystery.”

You couldn’t help the genuine smile that spread across your face. “And I’m glad to be here, Tyrion. As unexpected as this arrangement may be, I have found unexpected allies in the most unlikely of places.”

Tyrion’s smile softened, his gaze turning more serious, his tone warmer. “Then, let us be allies. After all, there’s no one I’d rather have beside me in this city of shadows than someone who knows the power of a well-guarded secret.”

As the last of the wine slipped from your goblet, Tyrion set his own down with a soft clink, his expression shifting from playful to serious. The air in the room felt thicker, the camaraderie you had shared now laced with a stiffness that called for honesty. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes intent on you.

“Now, let us speak more personally, Lady Y/N,” he began, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “How are you truly dealing with all of this? With the marriage… with being bound to a man who, for the most part, was responsible for the fall of your family?”

You felt a weight settle in your chest at the mention of Tywin’s role in the tragedy that had befallen the Targaryens. The memories rushed back—flashes of fire, betrayal, and the haunting echoes of laughter that had once filled the halls of the Red Keep, now replaced by whispers of treachery. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words.

“It’s… complicated,” you finally replied, your voice steady but soft. “I never expected to be married to Tywin Lannister. When I was sent to Winterfell, I thought I would find safety, not a path that would lead me back into the very heart of the chaos that led to my family’s ruin.”

Tyrion nodded, his expression understanding yet probing. “It’s a heavy burden to bear, being tied to someone who orchestrated so much suffering, and yet saved your life at the same time. How do you reconcile that?”

You considered his question, the flickering candles casting shadows on the walls as you gathered your thoughts. “I try to see it as a means of survival. My marriage to him may have been politically motivated, but I also recognize that it offers me a measure of power and influence that I did not have before. It allows me to navigate this world on my terms, however twisted those terms may be.”

Tyrion regarded you thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth twitching in a wry smile. “A practical perspective. You Targaryens are known for your fire—literal and figurative. But don’t think for a moment that you are simply a pawn in his game. You are more than that, especially in a marriage like this. You have a voice, a power that can reshape the narrative, should you choose to wield it.”

You felt a flicker of hope at his words, but a shadow of doubt crossed your mind. “But at what cost? Being with him means aligning myself with everything he represents—the very things that destroyed my family. Can I ever truly accept that?”

Tyrion leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he considered your struggle. “No one can ever truly forget their past, Lady Y/N. Nor should they. It’s how we use that past that defines us. Your family’s legacy, while fraught with tragedy, is also rich with strength. You have the opportunity to redefine what it means to be a Targaryen in this new era. Just as Tywin seeks to reshape the Lannisters, you too can carve your own path.”

You took a moment, absorbing his words. “I want to believe that,” you admitted quietly, your heart racing with the possibilities. “But every time I look at him, I see the weight of his choices. I can’t help but wonder if I am merely a means to an end for him—a way to consolidate power.”

Tyrion studied you, his expression serious. “Then make your presence known, my lady. Show him that you are not just a means to an end. Use this opportunity to become an ally, not just to him, but to the realm. Your voice matters. Use it wisely, and you might just find that you can steer this ship in a different direction.”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his encouragement wash over you. “You make it sound so simple, Tyrion,” you replied with a hint of a smile. “But I understand. I need to find a way to reclaim my identity in this role.”

“Exactly,” he said, a note of excitement creeping into his voice. “And when the Tyrells arrive, you’ll have a perfect stage to showcase your strength and your vision. Remember, they come with their own ambitions, and it’s a delicate dance you must navigate.”

You nodded, your resolve hardening as you realized the truth in his words. “Thank you, Tyrion. It means more than you know, having someone in my corner who understands.”

Tyrion raised his goblet in a mock toast, a smirk on his face. “To alliances, then, both new and unexpected. May they serve you well, my lady.”

You raised your own goblet, the warmth of his support wrapping around you like a protective cloak. “To alliances,” you echoed, your heart lifting slightly at the thought of the possibilities that lay ahead.

[diejager]

Hello hellooooooo

I hope you are doing great !!

(I was waiting patiently for your requests to be open again lmao)

So, my brain was just thinking of something for monster!141 and I just need to share it somewhere 😵‍💫

As you may know, penguins' love language is giving pebbles to their loved ones

Penguin hybrid!Hunter just giving monster!141 pebbles and little rocks to show them that they love them 🥹

Alright, I'll go back to my knitting now BYE

*gets out by the window with a parachute*

Pebbles Cw: weird courting, tell me if I missed any.

You didn’t have any noticeable differences to a human, having the appearance of any human with a some quirky and funny behavioural traits that all of them enjoyed. You had your moments of oddity, but you didn’t seem that far from a human, having no tail, ear or horns, your skin as smooth and soft as any. They dropped their suspicions of you being a hybrid, a monster or even an inter dimensional creature of some unknown source.

And somehow, they find small trinkets - small, round pebbles picked out of a bunch to be perfectly rounded, smooth edges and glistening under the light, and sticks, long and robust, but small enough to sneak into the base without being caught - placed in the areas they often found themselves frequenting.

Price would find a cluster of pebbles on his desk, arranged neatly in a ring, a curious little thing that he shrugged off, putting them away for the time he’d be able to catch the culprit red handed in the act. Price chucked it up to being Soap and Gaz pulling a prank on him, an unsuspecting and benign trick for a little laugh between them, he didn’t bother with it too much.

Ghost found his small collection of sticks and rock on the books he liked to read, placed near the corner of his desk in his office, the arrangement was neither crude nor clean, it was a chaotic abstraction that he didn’t understand.He didn’t know what to make of it, no one would be brave enough - stupid enough - to pull something like this on him and on his stuff without knowing the risks they put themselves in.

Soap and Gaz had a few placed that belonged to them alone, like their rooms or their locker in the armoury, small areas that everyone knew was theirs. Gaz was the first of the two to find flowers and pebbles in the top compartment of his locker, picked with utmost care to keep the petal from bending. Soap found his collection of sticks and flowers stitched in a pretty crown placed around the collar of his vest, a little present full of romance and adoration. Both of them couldn’t help but find this weird act endearing.

Until Price saw you rush out of his office, a sweet, love-filled smile plastered on your face as if you’d been given the miracle of your life. If he pushed the thought farther, he could almost see a little tail wagging behind you, oh so overzealous and overjoyed with something you did. Peaked by it, he looked into his room and caught the bright petals of a daisy gently placed in the middle of a wreath of stick. He looked at it with a renewed aww and curiosity, feeling your affection roll of your intricate design, made and catered to him as if you’d made each and every single one of his boys a little courting gift-

It was an instinctual courting behaviour seen in monsters and hybrids alike. It stopped him in his tracks, causing him to question himself and your file, he’d been sure that you were human through and through, holding not a single ounce of monster blood in your veins, you’d done tests. Tests, he had to remind himself that these tests were - despite being physical and DNA tests - noted down if the recipient had any traits deemed worthwhile, something useful in the minds of a battle or in a dogfight.

That would give reason to some missing holes in your file, the little things that made you so charmingly you in every aspect was missing from your papers, reserved for people who came to know you. It warmed his heart, to see you so comfortable with them that you ended up forging such strong, emotional connections that you started giving them gifts. He’d have to take it up with the other boys, tell them what he just found out: your little, courting gifts, your hybrid roots that they could explore and your lovable smile when you’d successfully given your gift, and see where they would go from there.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @mixplara @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @stay-088 @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[pinksturniolo]

Biggest Hater - Part Two

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Part 2 of 2

Alternate version of my Chris fic: Biggest Fan

Requested by the baddest! @muwapsturniolo

Summary: You just don’t get the hype of the Sturniolo Triplets like almost every girl your age does. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that you went to high school with them and Matt Sturniolo particularly, got on your nerves more than anyone you thought ever could. In fact, it has everything to do with that. And when you run into him a couple years later, at the peak of their fame, your feelings haven’t changed one bit. No matter how attractive you find him.

Content warnings: smut, oral, angry sex, teasing, pettiness, manipulation, mean!matt (even tho he's an angel irl), ANGST AF, enemies to lovers trope (somewhat?), slightly toxic, use of alcohol, a lil fluff at the end to make up for all the madness lol

word count: 3,887

You never breathed a word to anyone about what happened that night. Losing your virginity to Matt in the back of his minivan on prom night while stoned out of your mind was not something you could exactly go about announcing around the hallways of school. As much as you wanted to let what happened possibly turn into something more between you two, you simply couldn't let one night of passion make you forget the years of anger Matt caused you.

And your feelings were only solidified when you returned to school the next week, and he pretended like you didn’t even exist. He avoided you even more than he would before, and to be fair, you didn’t call or text him over the whole weekend out of sheer embarrassment. But you figured he would at least acknowledge you.

You started to feel incredibly stupid for letting your desires cloud your judgment and wished you could take back everything you did with him. You two never spoke again, as if that night never happened. And it hurt you for a while, until you eventually decided he wasn’t worth the trouble.

But that was two years ago, and this was now.

Now you were taking shots of tito’s back to back like they were water. Zach, the mutual friend that you and Matt shared from school was passing the bottle around, more people coming in and out of the house as the night wore on, the party getting bigger.

You danced in the middle of the living room along with the crowd of bodies, your body moving to the music freely as you tried to let the invasion of memories from prom night out of your mind. The alcohol coursed through your blood, your shyness leaving. You were starting to have a good time and were happy that you hadn’t seen Matt around since he disappeared down the hallway.

Zach comes up to you, leaning down to talk into your ear. He asks how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to since high school. You’re not one for small talk but you don’t want to be rude and start to engage in conversation with him when you hear a voice over the music interrupt you.

“Mind if I steal her from you?”

You turn to see Matt standing there, his eyes briefly travelling up and down your body before greeting Zach.

“Matt! What’s up, where you been? You want a shot?” he says, grabbing his hand in a handshake.

Matt shakes his head and motions to the keys attached to the belt loop of his jeans. “I’m the designated driver tonight.”

You give Matt a dirty look before you allow yourself to check him out. His appearance has changed so much since the last time you saw him. He’s wearing black jeans and a plain t shirt, a backwards hat on his head. He has light stubble on his face, making him look a little bit older. He looked really good.

But you weren’t drunk enough to acknowledge him further, turning back to Zach. “I think I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” You tell him and he barely lets you finish your sentence, grabbing both you and Matt by the shoulder.

“Hey, remember when you guys used to be at each other’s throats every day? It was hilarious.” He slurred, a drunken smile on his face.

You give him a deadpan look, avoiding looking at Matt to see his reaction. You could seriously strangle Zach right now for what he was doing.

“You know what’s hilarious Zach? She was pretending the whole time. I think she was just secretly in love with me.” Matt says and your jaw almost drops to the ground from shock.

 Zach laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “I knew it! Practically everyone in our senior class said the same thing.”

The audacity these men had. You’re absolutely fuming, staring daggers at Matt, a stupid fucking smirk on his face. He knows you’re pissed, and he likes it. Loves it in fact. It satisfies him to no end that he can still get a reaction out of you after all this time. Not to mention, he thought you were incredibly attractive when you were mad.

Before you can fire a good comeback at him, a genius idea pops into your head. The music currently blasting through the large house now switches to an upbeat reggaeton sound, something directly in your element.

The furrow in your brows from the sour look on your face relaxes as it’s replaced with a smile, your eyes lighting up. Matt is a little caught off guard by the way your expression switched up suddenly but tries not to let it show. His arms are crossed, and he raises an eyebrow in curiosity as you speak to him.

“I love this song. Wanna dance?”

“Wait-what? -“ He starts, utterly confused now but you walk past him before he can protest, the fabric of your skirt brushing against his body. He grits his teeth, his heart skipping a beat as he inhales the scent of your perfume. You look back at him over your shoulder, a mischievous look in your eyes.

“Later, Zach.” Matt says, immediately following behind you. Your hips sway as you walk, closer to the dark corner of the room. Your short skirt is skintight, your lace top not leaving much to the imagination. You have on a pair of strappy heels and Matt can’t help but let his eyes linger on the smoothness of your legs and the curve of your ass as he walks behind you.

But he feels as though he’s walking into a trap, your sudden change in behavior a mystery to him. He hasn’t seen you in two years and you seem more mature, more confident in yourself. And given the way you both left things, he’s not sure why you would even give him the time of day.

You reach the corner of the room where it’s a little more private, starting to move your hips in small circles, swaying to the beat of the song. There’s a sultry look in your eyes as you lock eyes with Matt who’s slowly moving towards you. He’s drawn dangerously close to you, a few inches separating you from him. He’s hesitant but watches your body move sensually, your hair falling around your face as you run your hands through it. You look him in the eyes again, grabbing his hands to put them on your waist.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. And your only intention tonight is to make sure Matt knows exactly who he’s fucked with. There was just no way he was going to show up in your life again and try to make a fool out of you for the second time. You were going to remind him that yes, there’s an unspoken connection between you two, and an electric storm that is created when your bodies mesh with another. But then, you were going to rip it from him, the way that he did to you.

The music vibrates through your body as you guide Matt’s hands across your waist and hips, his lips parted as you have him in a trance. His eyes can’t choose between focusing on your breasts spilling out of your shirt, the sliver of skin peeking out from the hem, showing the curves of your hips or your bare thighs now brushing against him as you move even closer.

Then, you turn around and wrap your arm behind you, across the back of his neck. Your other hand keeps his on the side of your waist. You grind your ass lightly over his crotch, his chest pressed into your back. His head is leaned down by the side of your neck, his warm breathing fanning across your skin.

He moves with you for a minute, immersed in the music and the way your body grinds against him. He feels like its just you and him in this party, addicted to the feeling of you on him like he was the night he had you all to himself in the backseat of his van.

His lips brush lightly over the skin of your neck, and he takes a deep breath in to try and steady himself before things escalate further. “What are you doing, Y/N.” He mumbles into your ear. His fingers press into your hips, his pants tightening from the way your ass is rubbing onto him.

Fuck. It’s taking everything in him right now not to drag you to one of the empty bedrooms and bend you over the mattress so he can fuck your brains out.

You feel him grow hard in his jeans and smile to yourself, your plan going exactly how you wanted it to. You turn around suddenly and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips feathering over his. “I need you…”

It takes him all of thirty seconds to grab your hand and lead you out of the living room, and to the secluded hallway at the other side of the house. He pushes you softly against the wall, placing his arms on either side of your head. There’s a look of desperation on his face that you haven’t seen before.

“Y/N. Listen to me. I know this sounds crazy, but I think about you all the fucking time. I swear, I’ve tried so hard to get you off my mind since that night and I can’t. I- “

“Matt, please. I don’t want to talk about that right now. Just kiss me.” You interrupted and smashed your lips onto his, his shirt fisted in your hands.

What you really want to say is, you’re a liar. If you really meant that, you would’ve talked to me at school. You would’ve let me know how you felt instead of cutting me off. You would’ve acted like a grown man and reached out to me a long time ago.

But that isn’t part of your master plan to manipulate him. You needed him to think you wanted him, to make him feel the way he made you feel for months after you last saw him. You know it’s wrong and petty, but you don’t care. And you couldn’t help the fact that you also secretly enjoyed having his hands on your body again, his lips on yours like they belonged there.

Matt is completely sober but he’s getting lust drunk off the taste of your mouth, your wandering hands over his chest, his abdomen, his hair. Pushing and pulling him into you, and he can feel your pulse pounding a million miles a minute. He could breathe your air forever, could steal your kisses like it’s his favorite crime.

The desire between you two grows and grows, until Matt is convinced he could fuck you against the wall in this hallway right now and not care one bit who saw. But he knows that’s not the right way to do this. He wants you on the bed, so he can lay your body down, and devour you in the way he’s been craving all this time.

He grabs your hips, breaking the kiss and leads you to the nearest closed door, praying that it’s an empty bedroom. The chances are in his favor when he sees no one in the room, a large king-sized bed in the middle. He locks the door behind him, and you throw your arms around his neck again, entrapping his lips on yours once more. He bends down slightly and grabs your ass, lifting you up in the air. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you over to the bed.

Once he feels the mattress against his legs, he climbs on top, laying you down, his body on yours. He trails soft kisses from your cheek to your neck, his tongue on your hot skin, teeth grazing, leaving goosebumps all over you.

You sigh in pleasure, letting him take over your body like its his. Your determination has been crumbling since he pressed you against that wall, but you fight to keep your head on straight, his mouth now ghosting across your chest as his head dips lower. He tugs your shirt and bra down, revealing your tits to him, nipples hardened from the cool air. He looks up at you, blue eyes burning with fire as he circles his warm tongue around one of them, making you gasp.

He continues, taking extra time and attention to suck, kiss and lick on each of your breasts, his eyes still on yours, leaving your now soaked panties ruined. You can feel his erection pressing into you and when he starts moving his head further south, you wrap your legs around him and grab onto his shoulders so you can flip your bodies around on the bed, this time with you on top of him.

It was time for you to regain control. You pull the top of your shirt back up and he starts to sit up, but you push him down firmly by his shoulders. You grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head as he allows you to undress him. He doesn’t protest and watches as you move down the bed, to settle between his legs. Your hands unbutton his jeans and yank his pants down and off of him. Now he’s only left in his boxers, and you’re still completely dressed.

You lay down on the bed, bringing your face to his crotch and exhaling on his hardness. His abdomen flexes and he clenches his jaw as he watches you tease him, breathing your warm breath onto him and then letting your tongue run over him through the fabric of his boxers.

You press a kiss onto him, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. “Y/N…” He groans, his hands tangling in your hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

You let a sly smile appear on your lips and rub your hands on his thighs. Your fingers curl around the band of his boxers, finally pulling them down so his cock springs out, long, hard, and begging to be taken care of.

He twitches as you press your lips to the tip, saliva leaking out of your mouth and coating him. Then you finally move your head down, taking as much of him as you can into your mouth and your soft hand curling around the base. He moans, holding your hair back as you bob your head up and down, his breathing becoming shallow.

You keep the pace, letting him brush the back of your throat and look at him, his head thrown back against the mattress in ecstasy, knowing he won’t last long at which the rate you’re going.

“Fuck…” He whimpers, letting you push him to that release, your actions feeling way too good to stop you.

You pull your mouth from him, gasping for air and letting your hand continue the motions, squeezing around him with every intention to get him to finish.

“I know baby, let go. It’s okay.” You say, urging him to cum.

But once you speak the words, Matt snaps out of his pleasure, the sentence sounding all too familiar.

“Matt…” You whine, and he presses his forehead to yours, his hands on your lower back, helping you ride him. “I know baby, let go. Its okay.” He says softly and the coil that’s been building for the past 20 minutes since he kissed you, finally releases and warmth floods your body. You moan loudly and feel yourself leaking on his thigh, your hips slowing down.

He grabs your jaw, the expression on his face now hardened. “What do you think you’re doing?” He says, finally catching onto your little plan.

Shit. You really fucked up now. You didn’t think he would recognize the same words, you thought it would be an inside joke only to yourself in your twisted mind. But Matt was smarter than you realized.

You try to play it off though, not wanting to give in. “What do you mean?” You say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He chuckles darkly and snaps his boxers back on, grabbing you by your arms and pulling you up, flipping around so you lay on the bed, on your back again.

Matt had a feeling something was off the moment you asked him to dance but he let his attraction take over and his desire cloud his judgement. And now that he’d figured out what you were trying to do, he was furious. He was mad that you felt the need to mock him, to get back at him. He was mad that he let his stubbornness prevent him from acting like a mature adult and block you out of his mind, of his life.

But most of all, he was mad and at the same time obsessed with the control you had over him, over his body, over his thoughts. He never let anyone dictate his emotions but somehow you had, and right now he wanted to show you who was really in control here. He wanted to show just exactly how much he had missed you.

“Who do you think you’re trying to play with, hm?” He says as he roughly tugs your skirt down your body and off your legs, leaving your heels on. He removes your shirt and bra right after, leaving you shocked in the way he’s managed to get you naked in less than a minute.

You don’t say a word as he pushes your legs open, his thumbs digging into your skin so hard, it hurts. He slots his shoulders in between as he places his wet lips on your stomach, kissing his way down, over your pelvis, and moving to your inner thighs, licking and sucking at the crevices.

It was insane the way Matt could control you with his dominance, the touch of his hands and the feeling of his tongue on your skin. You’ve basically lost your whole course of action in revenge, allowing him to have his way with you.

He’s everywhere except the spot you need him the most, leaving you whimpering and on edge, your hips uncontrollably moving. He smacks your inner thigh, making you cry out from the sting.

“Stop fucking moving. You wanted to play this game, right? Well, let Daddy show you who’s really in control here.” He practically growls and the tone of his voice has your pussy throbbing with need but your heart pounding with anger.

“Fuck you, Matt.” You respond, glaring down at him in between your legs.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise at your defiance, his eyes almost completely black from the way his pupils are blown. His fingertips dig harshly into your skin as he pulls you down even closer to his mouth, and your breath picks up as he traces his lips over your folds, not touching all the way but barely brushing.

He places a gentle kiss to the spot right above your clit, his eyes the complete opposite of soft as he looks up at you. He kisses once more and then dips down to lick one swipe through you only to move away, his tongue on your inner thigh again.

The teasing is almost too much, making you whine and squirm under him. He smirks at your reaction, satisfied with the way he’s gotten you worked up. He licks through you again, his tongue strong and warm and circles around your hole before pulling away once more, kissing the side of your lips.

“Say you want me.” He breathes against your skin, looking at you again.

You don’t answer him and he runs one finger through your folds, massaging lightly before pulling away seconds later.

“Say you want me. And I’ll give you what you need baby.” He’s looking at you with expectancy, hoping you’ll give in because as much as he’s enjoying teasing you, he wants nothing more than to please you.

You could almost cry from how mean he’s being, and grit your teeth, your eyes continuing to give him dirty looks. No fucking way you’re giving in this easily.

“I said… Fuck. You.”

There’s a brief moment of silence and heated looks exchanged before he suddenly gets up, standing at the end of the bed and then reaches up to drag you by your ankles to the edge where he is, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He would’ve had you cumming on his tongue, thighs around his face as you shook, swallowing every last drop.

“You’re gonna regret that.” He simply says and pulls his dick out only to push it into you with no warning, bottoming out as his hips connect with yours.

You cry aloud from the feeling, and you’re seeing stars as Matt drives himself into you over and over, hard. You’re moaning along with him, your head thrown back against the mattress. He watches as he slips in and out of you, the blissful look of pleasure on your face, a sight he could replay in his head for the rest of his life.

He wraps one hand around your neck, squeezing a little, making you clench around him from the feeling of arousal it gives you. The anger pours out of both of you, mixing with pleasure until it turns into something else, something you two have been holding back for a long time. This is nothing like the last time. In the van, it was sweet, innocent and new. But now it was dirty, hot and desperate.

The sounds of your bodies against each other fill the room, the wetness you make as he thrusts into you like music to his ears. He tells you how sexy you are, how good you take him, how much he loves to have you like this. Dripping down his cock, body quivering and throat raw from screaming out his name.

You both claim to hate each other but somehow ended up in this position for the second time. As you reach your release together, he lays closer over the top of you, burying his face in your neck. You hold him, nails scratching down his back as you cum around him, and you feel the throbbing of his cock as he finishes inside you. He stays there for a minute as you both calm down and he’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Matt drove you home that night, after taking his brothers home first of course. Everyone assumed what you two were doing when you disappeared from the party and Chris and Nick giggled in the car, making fun of you two, much to Matt’s annoyance.

He kissed you good night. He called the next day, and the next, and the next. He checked up on you, sent flowers to your house when you weren’t expecting, he even brought you lunch to your job when you were having a particularly rough day. He made up for all the lost time.

You both had many discussions about the past. You forgave him for what happened, and it made you happy to finally say you didn’t hate Matthew Sturniolo after all. You were actually deeply, head over heels, in love with him.

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn

[hikari-kaitou]

This is Phoenix and Edgeworth's profiles as imagined by character designer Ms. Suekane. We got quite different answers from her compared to Takumi and the others!!

Phoenix's profile

Birthday: Maybe a Virgo? I kinda get the feeling he was born in September.

Blood type: O type. His attitude towards Maya and his fairly easygoing nature give me that impression.

Birthplace: Saitama, maybe? It's close to Tokyo but not on the same level because it's more rural. Maybe Saitama or Chiba or Ibaraki? But Takumi-san is from Saitama? Well, let's go with Saitama, then.

Non-work clothes: A hoodie. I want Phoenix to like wearing hoodies (lol). I can't think of anything else that would suit him. On the bottom, he'd wear cargo pants.

Living situation: He lives at his office. He's got a locker there where he keeps blankets and stuff to sleep on.

On his days off: He does nothing. He kinda just spaces out in the morning, then when noon comes he eats lunch and watches TV. When evening comes, he eats dinner, watches more TV, bathes, and sleeps. But if someone invites him out then he'll go.

Hobbies: Video games and stuff. Like fighting games (lol). I can see him with his controller going "tap tap tap tap" and smashing out combos. He might also play Dragon Quest or Final Fantasy or those types of games.

Favorite food: He's omnivorous. He'll eat whatever but he's kinda happy when there's meat in it. He loves meat.

Luxury foods: Diet cola. Beef jerky would be fine too (lol). He drinks alcohol but it doesn't show on his face much. Not beer, but like Japanese hot sake (lol)

Sports: Swimming. In general he's useless at sports but he'd be like "swimming is the only thing I'm good at." He seems like he'd get a little excited while talking about swimming.

Music: He doesn't listen to music. He'll go to karaoke if someone brings him, though.

Cellphone: He updates it fairly regularly, but because he always waits for the price to go down, he always ends up with one that's two models behind (lol).

His part time job in college: Something loose, because he doesn't commit himself to things… Like maybe he worked at a convenience store.

His type: I feel like he dreams about someone with abstract qualities like being "kind" or "domestic". Just thinking about those words gets him all starry-eyed and sighing (lol).

Edgeworth's profile

Birthday: He's an Aries, which means he was born on April 2nd or later. Let's go with April 2nd (lol).

Blood type: Type AB, because I feel like his emotions kinda have peaks and valleys.

Birthplace: Chiba. At first I thought Ace Attorney took place in Soga (a city in Chiba Prefecture).

Non-work clothes: A jacket, but not like a suit jacket, more like a casual one. Like from Paul Smith or something.

Living situation: A normal apartment. A lot of his furniture is Japanese handicraft stuff, and I feel like he'd put a lot of money into making his place feel Japanese.

On his days off: He goes shopping or on walks and has an elegant lunch. If he drives a car, it would be a silver one (lol).

Hobbies: Collecting western antiques and Japanese handicrafts.

Favorite food: Taro and meat soup (imoni). He has a favorite deli in his neighborhood that makes it.

Luxury foods: Whiskey. He enjoys it on the rocks.

Sports: He used to play soccer, but now he does weight training. He's got a defined six-pack.

Music: jazz. He listens to it while drinking his whiskey. Eminem fills him with rage.

Cellphone: A normal one. He uses his computer to send emails so he really only uses it to talk.

His part time job in college: Administrative assistant. He'd help with paperwork only when the office was really busy.

His type: Someone who doesn't lie to him. I have nothing in particular to add to that.

[angelsknifeprty]

streamer!ellie hcs ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: this is more focused on ellie and less on ellie x reader but i am for sure gonna follow this up with something else more focused on the both of you >:3

warnings | mentions of weed, the smallest hint towards struggling with eating if you squint

word count: 698

do not buy tlou | ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ started off posting unlisted videos of her playing games with the stupidest, shittiest editing ever for you and her friends to watch and later decided to give streaming a try

‎ ‧₊˚౨ৎ starts off her twitch channel as a faceless streamer but does a face reveal when she hits a big milestone

‧₊˚౨ৎ has the creeper mini fridge for sure!!

‧₊˚౨ৎ has a ginger cat named garfield that she exclusively calls garfunkel on stream because her viewers made fun of her for garfield being too unoriginal

“guys, what do you mean it’s unoriginal, look at him. that’s literally garfield, the real deal. you’re all haters.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ plays a bunch of different games: minecraft obviously, fortnite, roblox (and argues with kids on there, you can’t tell me any different). also loves fnaf, elder scrolls and resident evil

‧₊˚౨ৎ more on her liking resident evil, i think she’s not super wimpy when it comes to games like that but she HATES the regenerators from the re4 remake (i’m totally not projecting…)

“i am NOT a wimp, but look at their freaky fucking arms!! and they have gross little butts too, that was not a necessary choice for the character design.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does find it funny when she kills them and they jiggle as they fall on the ground though

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ i’m throwing it in here that she smokes weed because i simply cannot help myself teehee :P

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she does more chill streams of her eating n stuff as a way of comforting her viewers so they can eat along with her )):

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ and in turn chat always spams her with comments to drink water because that girl survives purely on energy drinks to combat her sleepy girl syndrome

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ abuses the soundboard so heavily, loves using a sound effect of an audience clapping and cheering when she tells the most painfully unfunny joke

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she is ABSOLUTELY a jerma985 fan

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves putting her fans on blast and reacting to edits of her on stream and finds it so funny (especially the ones that have the reverb fart noise just randomly slapped in there, she thinks it’s peak humour)

“you guys think i don’t see this stuff? i have eyes everywhere. y’know what though, you guys are actually really talented.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ wears stupid t-shirts that say stuff like “i paused my game to be here” (omg i just found one that says “gamers make better lovers, they know all the right buttons” she would absolutely wear that)

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she wears her silly t-shirts with pride and has the audacity to ask chat to rate how hard her fit goes

therealher0brine: BOOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅 0/10

elliebellie69: i beg that you don’t leave the house in that /lh  (╥﹏╥)

gnarpgnarp500: never beating the loser lesbian allegations i fear…

“guys you’re just not seeing the vision, sorry that you’re not this cool.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ oh my gosh she is OBSESSED with the little ikea alien, she has multiple of them in her room. she keeps one on her desk and when she sometimes doesn’t know what to say she’ll just hold it up super close to the camera and make incoherent high pitched babbling sounds

smelliams420: omg cancelled you can’t say that dude…

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ gets her viewers to send in clips and she’ll do high try not to laugh streams and fails miserably because she has the dumbest sense of humour ever. she’ll blame it entirely on the herb though as if her reaction wouldn’t be near enough the same when she’s sober

‧₊˚౨ৎ will occasionally play guitar on stream and she’ll sing too if you catch her in the right mood. she’s a bit awkward about it so it doesn’t happen often cuz she hates messing up and always makes a way bigger deal about it than necessary

“fuck- no wait, i was just messing with you. that fuck up was on purpose, shut up,” and her cheeks are flushed bright red as she tries to brush it off and compose herself before trying again

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves to get sidetracked and info dumps about stuff she is far too knowledgeable on

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ in conclusion, loser ellie supremacy

a/n: raghhh i love streamer els with my whole heart !!! i’m gonna eat her (˶˃⤙˂˶) anyways i hope you enjoyed, k bye mwah! >3< ♡

[delirious-donna]

Left Me In The Afterglow [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: the solace of your body is too much to resist. Hiromi might have already wrung himself dry within your walls, but he has no intent on moving anytime soon.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warning: implied unprotected sex, overstimulation, cheeky banter, implied multiple rounds, cockwarming?

Masterlist

Black hair peppered with the occasional grey fell to your breast, dampened with sweat and sticking at odd angles to his brow. Hiromi offered continued noises from the depths of his chest; guttural groans of his orgasm lingered along with residual hiccups stuck in his throat. The scent of sex hung thick and sticky in the air, a blanket of the passion that had ensued.

“Animal…” you scolded with a laugh, reaching up to touch the marks you could feel blooming into life on your neck and forming a path down the front of your body.

Hiromi hissed when your cunt continued to clench and pulse around his cock, an uncontrollable bodily reaction that tried to milk him again despite him having nothing more to give, or so he thought.

“Speak for yourself little miss man-eater.”

Laughter only produced more of the mess that trickled from your sensitive entrance, a combination of your arousal and his seed squeezing around the plug he’d created to stuff you full. It dripped slow and lewd, coating your thighs, wetting his pelvis and soiling the sheets below.

All you could think of was the slow floating sensation you’d not long experienced, that feeling of weightlessness as your body tightened and went lax at the rush of your orgasm reaching its peak. You smiled indulgently, carding your fingers through the raven strands of his lustrous head of hair. If you looked over his shoulder you could make out the dragged marks of your nails etched into his shoulders, the sight serving as a reminder of how desperately you had clawed at him during the moment.

“Stop looking so delicious in a suit and tie then mister lawyer,” you teased, wiggling your hips just to hear him groan and watch him lower his face into the swell of your breasts.

He twitched, cock still thick and throbbing between your walls. Your feet curled around his legs once more, a hand grabbing blindly to feel his butt clench at the shameless touch.

“Watch it, you damn minx! Ah-ha…” He whined at the continued movement of your lower half, fixing you with a look of disbelief when you feigned complete ignorance to your mischief. “My love—”

His warning fell upon deaf ears. After all, nothing could beat the warmth of cradling your husband’s spent body into the soft nest of your embrace. Instead of listening to his words you scratched languidly against his scalp and drew idle patterns of unknown design down the length of his spine and across his shoulder blades. You hummed happily, offering him a glimpse of the cheeky side of you he had fallen for all those years ago.

Well, two could play at that game.

“Mm, sweetheart. Fuck—you feel divine. Maybe I’ll stay here a while,” he murmured sleepily. His cheek nuzzled the side of your breast, the bristle of the day’s growth on his jaw scratched the sensitive skin which was already overly sensitive to stimuli.

Hiromi seemed more than content to remain buried in your warmth, happy to keep his cock plugged into your cunt and you eyed him with suspicion. He merely looked back, blinking dark brown eyes that gleamed with something devious. You were about to lean back against the pillows when the hook of his distinguished nose rubbed against your taut nipple.

“Hiro, careful…” You whimpered, every nerve ending screaming from the building overstimulation, you weren’t sure you were ready for more, but he sure seemed to be. Insistent lips latched around your pebbled peak, a hot tongue swirling around the flesh until a string of saliva connected his mouth to your skin and he pulled back to gaze at you again, daring you to tell him no.

“Shh,” he cooed. His hips drew back only to slide forward in a soft thrust to remind you that he was still very much hard and willing to use his cock to fuck you dumb and into silence. Oh god, he was a menace. A menace that knew you would take it. “I just want to feel you for a little longer, my dick is all snug in you.”

The warmth in your belly returned at full force, a flush creeping across your chest and up your neck with it. Hiromi repeated his ministrations on the other nipple but this time he also bit gently at your flesh, smiling at your startled yelp.

You wanted to writhe, to buck your hips and create that sense of urgency that might spur your husband into another round. Anything to end this stalemate, the weight of his presence in your abused cunt both addicting and mania-inducing.

“Honey, please. I-I really need you to move—ah!”

Heat coiled in your nipples, the sting just the right side of pleasurable. You gasped at the renewed vigour in which he tugged on either nipple in tandem, his hands curling under your shoulders whilst his bodyweight kept you pinned into the mattress.

Hiromi purred around a mouthful of tender nipple. “Hm? What was that?”

It started out as retribution, but it hadn’t taken long for him to become completely absorbed in the snug fit of your bodies, of how your plush stomach and thighs held him with such love that all those tiring and logical thoughts in his brain leaked right out of his ears. He was at the mercy of your heat, and there was no where he’d rather be than right here.

He listened to your desperate little pleas for that extra friction, faint hiccups tugging a dopey smile into place that resulted in even more desperate tugs to his hair. Your breathing was erratic beneath his cheek, shallow pants emerging but it only made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“You heard me! Goddammit, I’m going to burst if you don’t fuck me right now,” you implored with an especially forceful squirm that had him sinking right up to the root.

His whisky eyes blew to almost pure midnight at the change in angle, his balls contracting up to the base with need thrumming throughout his insides. Through those lust-blown eyes he watched your face, adoring every expression that painted across the pretty surface. He was so proud to call himself your husband, love stirring in his chest to mingle with the gut deep desire.

Hiromi could do this all night if you let him, and he certainly wanted to for at least a little while longer before he fucked you both to sleep.

“Y’know… I’m the luckiest man in the world, but even so—stay still and let me feel you, my perfect little minx.”

[wileys-russo]

not sure if you’d like this idea but i keep seeing this trend of coloring in your partners tattoos and imagine a blurb where reader is doing this with alexia or mapi <33

feels so weird to write mapi or ingrid without the other tbh colouring book II m.león 

"hola amor!" you called out as you returned home from work, utterly exhausted as you swung the door closed behind you, frowning as your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

"maría?" you sung out, dropping your bag on the counter and wandering around the flat, popping your head in and out of each room. finally, as you entered your bedroom you breathed a sigh of relief.

your girlfriends back was faced toward you sat outside in the late afternoon sun on the balcony of your bedroom, clearly focused on something as you made your way over.

opening the doors you quickly realised why she hadn't heard you, between the gentle buzz of her tattoo gun and the music playing from her phone you clearly caught the older girl off guard as she looked up in surprise.

"more?" you shook your head with a smile, the girl tattooing what looked like a sword on her ankle. "i told you bebita, they are addictive!" the spaniard grinned, flicking off the gun and wiping down the fresh ink with a sanitary pad.

"like it? my lines are getting very good." mapi beamed flashing her new tattoo toward you as you hummed taking a seat, kicking your feet up and sighing contentedly.

"you know...i can still give you one." you felt her hand on your leg as you cracked one eye open and smiled in amusement. "and you know, when hell freezes over." you teased as she pinched your leg lightly with a hum.

packing away the gun and wrapping up her tattoo carefully the girl pulled off her gloves and dissapeared inside for a moment to put everything away. "how was work?" mapi returned, bending down to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

"good, tiring, long, very glad its the weekend." you grinned up at her, accepting her outstretched hand as she guided you up and out of your seat. "come hermosa, rest with me." your girlfriend pulled you down onto the bed with her, pulling your back into her front as she held you tightly.

the two of you spoke about your days, wrapped up together in the warm rays of the dying soon, golden hour both your favourite times of day.

your girlfriend settling a little more, the sweet words whispered in your ear and the gentle kisses placed to the back of your shoulder blades did very little to lull you to sleep, though that seemed no issue for the tattooed footballer behind you.

glancing over your shoulder you smiled seeing she was asleep, chest rising and falling as you carefully wiggled out of her hold and placed a kiss to her forehead. your combined body heats a little much you shuffled to lay beside her, mapi stirring and rolling onto her stomach but otherwise remaining out cold.

cheekily answering a few work emails you found yourself doom scrolling social medias, one video in particular peaking your interest. pocketing your phone you quietly made your way out of the bedroom, hunting around the house for what you were after.

returning to the bedroom your girlfriend grunted tiredly as you sat on the back of her legs. "qué?" the defender mumbled. "can i color in your tattos mi amor?" you asked, bending down so your head laid next to hers.

"why?" her body vibrated with a small chuckle as she blinked sleepily. "why not?" you questioned back as the older girl hummed, nodding and shutting her eyes again as you kissed her cheek.

her body tensed a little as you pushed her shirt up, finger tracing the multitude of designs inked along the soft tanned skin. assisted by the pencil case you kept handy for when your niece visited you grabbed out a handful of markers and shifted a little so you were comfortable.

your girlfriend relaxed and drifted back to sleep, finding the gentle scratchings of the markers against her back oddly soothing as you frowned in concentration. finishing the lion in the middle of her back you moved onto the smaller more intricate designs on her shoulder blades, taking your time to ensure you kept it neat.

you felt a little childish at how much you were enjoying this, admittedly only coloring when your niece was over and that was only ever to placate her after a tantrum. but you couldn't deny that this was helping the melt away the stress which lingered within your body from a long week of meetings and deadlines and overdue reports.

unknown to you your girlfriend was now awake, laying down quietly and making sure not to move too much, glancing up with a soft smile seeing the way your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in concentration.

"bon dia hermosa." you caught her eye giving her a smile of your own, capping your marker and tucking it back away. "i think it is a little late for a bon dia princesa." the defender grinned, grabbing your hands and gently tugging you back down onto the bed beside her.

"did you have a nice time coloring?" she mocked playfully, kissing your nose as you rolled your eyes. "you're like a human coloring book amor, can you blame me?" you leaned in to give her a proper kiss, a lazy makeout session quick to follow.

you sighed happily at the way her hands rested on the small of your back pulling your body closer into hers, angling your head a little more to the side as your tongues clashed and you tangled your hands in her hair.

your eyes fluttered closed as her lips detached from yours and found their home on your neck, the defender moving to grab your hips as she sucked a bright red mark just below your jaw. pulling away she peppered gentle kisses across it to soothe the sting and her teeth tugged playfully at your ear lobe.

"you know mi amor if you let me give you a tattoo you could become your own colouring book."

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

comforting him

(cw: age gap 25/41; nightterrors, scars from injury, könig is having a shitty day, smoking, a bit of angst maybe, smut nsfw, mdni 18+)

the part before: going for a walk

It isn’t always fun and games, like the first time König had nightterrors while I was sleeping next to him.

The scream that woke me up. My disorientation until I knew what’s going on. His big body shaking next to mine. His arms trying to hold onto something. That something being me. And I talked to him, trying to get him grounded in reality again. Soft words, whatever came to mind.

After a while he calmed down, but he didn’t want to talk about it, which is… understandable.

And it happened again today, his pained shouts pulling me from my sleep. My smaller body hanging onto his bigger, trembling one, almost shoving me off me him when he snaps out of it.

I have to tell him at least five times that I’m okay, that he didn’t hurt me at all, that nothing happened to me. And even then, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

We both don’t sleep the rest of the night. Just sitting in the living room, listening to music. I get up every time to change the vinyl or flip it to the B-side, then snuggling back into his lap.

He looks exhausted and I just want to take his discomfort away, but I don’t know how. So I just resort to softly stroking over his shoulders and back, calming him like that.

I try not to see the scars that adorn his body, cutting through the tattoos here and there. Sometimes destroying the motive that already was there. Sometimes seeming like they were worked into the design because they already were there before. My hands caress over his warm skin, trying not to linger too long in one spot. To not think about all the injuries, or about him going on another mission. Probably sooner than later.

He always holds me close to him when I sit on his lap. Just tonight it feels a little bit more like he’s holding onto me not the other way around. Not to slip away.

In the morning, I go to work, König slipping back under the covers while I get dressed.

"Get some more rest, hm?", I tell him, caressing over his cheek before giving it a little kiss. "If you can." I don't know what else to say.

He just looks so tired, dark circles under his eyes. For once looking his age – or even older.

He grabs my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles, grunting softly instead of an answer. I press his fingers before slipping out of his hold and leaving the bedroom, quietly closing the door.

I drive myself to work, yawning a little more than usually while answering emails, getting myself an extra coffee. My mind coming back to him every so often, sighing. Remembering the panic on his face, the empty look in his eyes afterwards. Cut off, inwardly suffering, silent.

When I return home, looking to hug the big guy and give him a big kiss, ask him how he is doing, he is nowhere to be found.

"König?" I call out.

Where is he? I check all the rooms, kitchen and living room at first. There isn't a trace of him, no food cooking on the stove, his glasses set aside next to the book he's currently reading.

Mimi is sleeping on the couch, the little kitty basking in the sun that is falling in through the window.

I think for a moment, almost running upstairs, but no. He wouldn't be up there, he doesn't use the office and I can't hear the shower. So I head downstairs, to the home gym. Usually, he works out while I'm at work, already showered and fresh when I return. But I don't know where else he would be. He surely would have texted me if he had gone out.

I crack the door open a little, peaking my head in. And there he is, wrecking the punching bag that's hanging from the ceiling.

Thud thud thud.

Thwack.

His fists hitting the leather repeatedly, before smacking the palm into it.

The headset is sitting fast on his head, his hair loosely tied together. His shorts tight around his thighs, his muscle shirt sweaty like the rest of him. And I try to ignore how good he looks like that.

His movements come to a halt, seeing me in the corners of his eyes, only doing a half-turn in my direction.

"Hey, how are yo-", I start, but he interrupts me, pushing one of the headphones back.

"What?", he says, louder than necessary and the impatience in his voice startles me.

"I was just-", I repeat, but the look on his face shuts me up as he finally meets my gaze. I feel like I'm intruding, disturbing him when I shouldn't be, and for a moment I don't even know what to say. Startled.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

My mouth drops open, hoping the right words come out, but they don't. The way he looks at me... I can't deal with. The simmering anger, the arrogance the way his chin tilts up, the brows more furrowed than I've ever seen them before.

I shake my head, breaking the eye contact for a moment, just to get away from his stare. "Uh, just- I'm sorry for disturbing you.", I finally press out, slipping back, heading out the room again.

Before I turn around, I see the anger on his face dissipate into frustration and something else I can't put my finger on it.

I rush out the door and up to living room, pacing around until Mimi comes up to me, and I pick the kitty up. Snuggling the little furball. Contemplating if it might be better to pack up my stuff. Give him his space.

I shake my head. No, that would be shitty too. Running away because he has a shitty day.

I sigh. I feared that something like that might happen when I was hesitant to go stay with him. And it's not like he shouldn't be allowed to have shitty days. I just don't really know what to do about them. Yet.

I hear steps, heavy thuds on the stairs, coming to a halt, and I turn to look.

He just stands there, on the top stair, almost hitting his head on the staircase above. The headphones around his neck, his hair falling down into his face. Just looking at me, his arms hanging to his sides, his shoulders slumped down. The distance between us too great, but he doesn't dare come closer.

"I'm sorry, Liebes.", he says, his voice hoarse, the words quieter than I would have thought. Defeat and apology in his expression.

I just stand there, looking at him. I mean, I knew he had troubles. The self-imposed lonesomeness. And I'm not talking about staying home a lot, preferring to be by himself. The stuff about his work that he doesn't want to talk about. The nightterrors, just like today. I don't fully believe him when he says, he doesn't have them often.

The scowl on his face when he thinks I'm not looking. The simmering anger that's seemingly always there. Directed at himself rather than the people around him. Well, most of the time at least.

"It's okay.", I finally say.

He shakes his head, making a step forward, just a small one. "It's not." He sighs. "I'm usually better at hiding... it." Another step. "I'm not angry with you, I swear."

I sigh too. I knew that but apparently, I still needed to hear him say it. A soft sad smile stalks onto my face as I come closer until I'm standing before him.

"You shouldn't need to hide it.", I say, snuggling into his chest, pressing myself against him, still holding Mimi.

He closes his arms around me, embracing us both. He's sweaty, but I don't care right now. I need this closeness.

"You're here because I broke your bed, not to babysit a manchild.", he says flatly, but the edge in his words jabbing at himself is still obvious. And I don't want to point out the flaws in them. I’m not here because he broke my bed. This isn't at all what this is about, but he still seems to be in whatever spiral he was just moments ago.

"I'm not.", I answer. "Something is troubling you, that doesn't make you a child nor does me asking you about it make me a babysitter." He doesn't say anything, his arms only hugging me a little tighter. "So... You wanna talk about it?", I ask.

I can feel him hesitate and then shake his head. "No, I'm..." He breaks off. "I just have to deal with it, okay?" He softly strokes over my hair. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I still do.", I say, softly, finally looking back up at him. I can't stand the defeated look on his face. He averts his eyes, hugging me closer.

And we just stand here in the living room. The three of us in a hug, only our soft breaths cutting through the silence.

Before he breaks it. "I actually got the information on the next mission.", he says, his voice steadier now.

I perk up. "And?"

"I'm leaving next week.", he answers.

I swallow, hard. "Which day?", I want to know, so I can count the days.

"Wednesday." So six days, including today. Shit.

"Okay." I press myself into him, Mimi still in between, and she meows. Tearing me from my dwindling thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby.", I coo, pressing a kiss to her head, and she meows again, freeing herself from my hold, jumping down to the floor.

He takes the chance to pull me flush against him. "Me too.", he mumbles into my hair.

My arms wrap around his waist, my hands stroking down his back. Hugging him back, thinking about what to do.

If he doesn't wanna talk about it, then maybe a distraction will help ease his mind. Or at least take his mind off things. And mine too, now that I know he’ll be leaving.

"Some, uh, friends of mine asked if I wanna go out for some drinks.", I start. "We could join them if you want to." The tips of my fingers brushing over his lower back. "We can also stay home, of course, you know – whatever you prefer. But they actually wanted to go to the pub where we met." I smile up at him, remembering that moment when he got my attention with a simple compliment of my bandshirt.

"That..." He hesitates, but returns the smile then, although meekly. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

I get onto my tiptoes to finally get the kiss I came looking for earlier. He meets me halfway, kissing me, and the way his lips feel against mine sets me a little more at ease.

"Shower first?", he says then, his eyes intently on mine.

"Yes, stinky.", I quip which makes him laugh a little before I pull him with me up the stairs.

I hear him sigh behind me, a deep defeated tone, and I stop in my tracks again, but he just lifts me and carries me to the bathroom.

After the shower he looks refreshed, in a fresh band shirt and his favorite pair of cargo pants. Smelling like his usual shampoo, and he even put on a little bit of aftershave.

He's looking a bit more like himself. Especially when he puts on his leatherjacket, flicking his hair back with a trained move of his arm, so it isn't stuck in the collar, but falls down his shoulders.

The frown on his face is still a little more etched in than usually. It lightens up a bit when we sing along to Slipknot's "Before I forget" on the drive to the pub, and even more so when we join my friends there.

After the general introductions we get some drinks and settle down at the table. My hand in his, underneath the tabletop.

"Can I try? Just a sip." He points at my drink, an orangy-red liquid, more sweet than sour.

I pull one eyebrow up. "Sure, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

But he already took my glass and gulps half of it down.

My jaw drops. "You said just a sip!", I complain, loudly.

He smiles at me, a lop-sided apology, the smile that never lets me be mad at him, before his face contorts into a grimace. "You were right, I don't like it.", he comments.

The nerve. He sees my exasperated expression and laughs. His big hand grabs the back of my head and he pulls me in to press a big kiss to my cheek, and the public display of affection makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter and my exaggerated exasperation disappear.

"I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he says, pulling away, getting up and heading to the bar.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. Looking after him, my eyes are panning from his broad shoulders down his back until they land on his tight ass as his hips sway. Blatantly ogling him, but I can't help it.

Robin’s hand on my forearms pulls my attention to them, and they start to tell me about their newest obsession: little, tiny octopuses. They’re showing me pictures and videos of the cute and small creatures when König gets back. He sets the new drink onto the table in front of me, I glance at him, mouthing 'thank you'. And he just winks.

It doesn't take long until he joins the conversation with the younger guys at the table which quickly turns into a trip to the billiard table. And my friends come in all shapes and sizes, still König towers over all of them. His tall stature bending down over the side of the table to line up the ball, sinking it in the right hole with precision. He is an insertion specialist after all.

Robin and I are laughing and giggling, making the stupid jokes we always do, and I’ve almost forgotten about the troubles today, getting myself another drink.

I look over to the guys again and König’s talking to Dan. Bits and pieces I pick up are telling me that they're talking about some soccer teams and matches. I grin to myself because I know how glad Dan must be that he finally got someone around who's interested in that, because none of us are.

He catches me staring at him, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. I blow him a little kiss before I take my jacket and head out the front door for a smoke.

Moments later, the door behind me croaks and I turn around. The big guy is standing in the entryway, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

“You smoke?” His deep voice fills the silence of the breezy night.

I sigh, juggling the bag of tobacco, rolling papers and filters in my hands. “Used to, but sometimes when I’m out with friends… or stressed… I still go for a smoke.”, I answer, a wry apologetic smile stalking onto my face.

He nods like he understands, putting his hand in his pocket, leaning beside me on the wall. A simple gesture, but when it comes to him, I find even the most minute of movements hot.

“Me too, especially when I’m at work… or having one of those days. Like today.”, he says, the smile turning lop-sided, and after a pause adds: “So… Can I have one as well?”

I chuckle, hiding my slight surprise. “Sure. Should I or do you know how to roll one?”, I ask in return.

His extended hand, the palm turned up, and a little tilt of his head are his only answer. I hand him a filter and a rolling paper with some tobacco, getting myself the same items before I put the tobacco baggie back into my purse.

When I turn to him again, my attention gets pulled in by his hands that softly take the little paper, putting the filter on the right side, pushing some of the tobacco in. Taking it between his middlefingers and thumbs, rolling it up in a swift trained motion. The ease with which he does it is impressive, even more so considering how tiny the cigarette is compared to his hands.

Then he lifts it to his mouth, his tongue darting out, licking over the paper in one swift go, to make it stick.

My eyes go wide, my breath halts in my throat, and I have to remember myself that I need to breathe.

He sees my expression which pulls a laugh from him. “Never thought you’d be jealous of a cigarette, hm?”

That pulls me from my trance, I laugh and playfully smack his arm. “Oh, stop it.” I shoot him a look, my eyes sparkling at him while I tease: “I know, I’ll be getting that as soon as we come home.”

He lights his cigarette with the zippo he always carries in the right outer pocket of his cargo pants, taking a drag and blowing the smoke into the air. “Don’t you know it.”, he says, the devilish smirk coming out. His hand drops down, pinching my butt playfully, and I yelp a little bit, almost dropping my unrolled cigarette.

“König!” But he just grins down at me.

Then I finally manage to roll it, stick the filter end between my lips and search for my lighter.

“Here, let me.”, he says, holding out the zippo in front of my face, the clank of metal and then the familiar snap, before a little flame burns at the top.

I shoot him a thankful look and lean forward until the flame catches on and the cigarette burns. I take the first drag, inhaling it deeply.

He puts the lighter away again, and I fall against him, resting my head against his chest while his arm drops around me, pulling me into him. Sharing this moment together while we smoke our cigarettes.

“To think that this all started because I complimented you on your shirt…”, he says, seeming a little bit caught up.

I laugh, the light sound getting carried away into the quiet night sky. “Is a little crazy, right?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

We fall silent, puffs of smoke inhaled and exhaled. Soft noises from inside the bar making it less quiet. The air around us is thick with things we don’t say.

I think, I like you more than I ever thought I would.

I might even be falling in love with you.

And that scares me.

We excuse ourselves a little early because honestly, I'm tired from not having slept all that much tonight, and the few drinks I had made me a little tipsy. And he kind of promised to eat me out when we get home.

We get to the car and – as so often – he opens the door for me. I smile at him and climb into the seat, but he steals another kiss. One that has me panting a little harder. He pulls away and rounds the car to get into the driver side.

I sit back, turning on the music as he starts driving.

Looking at him. The streetlamps light up his face every so often, casting the one side in shadows.

Wondering what might be going on in his head, the stoic expression not giving anything away.

Whatever went on in his mind today seems forgotten about, he seems like his usual self again. But maybe he’s just hiding it? Or it helped going outside for once, and I ask myself if maybe the time we first met, he also went out to distract himself.

And I don’t even know why, but my heart starts hurting a bit.

How is it like when he is alone at home? Does he talk to nobody?

“What is it?”, he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

I look away and shake my head. “Nothing.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know that it’s never nothing.”, he says with a little sigh, an understanding smile on his face.

“Just thinking.”, I say plainly.

The smile gets a little wider. “Hmm, thinking, that’s a dangerous thing.”, he says, sounding earnest and joking at the same time.

The corners of my mouth tilt up, of their own volition. “It is.”

His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it, and the little gesture soothes me. Pushing the thoughts away as I relax into the leather seat.

His thumb grazes over the sensitive inside of my thigh, and I shoot him a look. The small grin is the only hint that he’s doing it on purpose, only getting wider as he brushes further up until his hand is between my thighs. My fingers clasp over his, but I don’t pull them away. Shamelessly grinding against the palm, relishing the delicious friction and paying him back for his cheeky move. Now it's his turn to shoot me a look.

The sleepiness is almost forgotten about, and the slight tipsiness does nothing but make me even hotter and hornier.

Parking the Mercedes at his usual spot in the garage, he cuts off the engine and I jump out the car before he can even get out and open the door for me.

I take a few steps back, biting my lip, trying to hide the grin that stalks onto my face as he makes his way around the car. His gaze is on me, looking at me from under his brows, unbridled desire in his eyes.

His broad shoulders seem even wider with his signature leatherjacket, his hair moves, the long strands falling down his shoulders, while he comes closer with long strides until his boots bump into my converse and his arms close around me. He almost towers over me, leaning me back in his embrace. His lips crash into mine while my hands grab him, trying to get even closer to him.

We don't say anything, but I can feel the simmering intensity as he deepens the kiss and picks me up, making the last few steps into the house. My legs close around his waist when he pushes through the door, and we're both not breaking the kiss, desperate for more.

I think back to the first time we hooked up, how he carried me upstairs to my flat. How the anticipation and excitement simmered in my veins back then, and his touches still consume me and make me wanna devour him, but it has become so familiar at the same time. How his fingers press into my thighs, grabbing the soft pillows. How his nose nudges against mine when we kiss. How he swallows up the soft noises I make, tasting every single one of them. His chest against mine, the plane of muscles warm and pillowy.

His scent, his taste. How the long strands of his hair feel as I run my fingers through them.

He sets me down on the dresser in the hallway, pulling my shoes off, kicking his boots away and getting rid of the leatherjacket. He doesn't have to say it, I know what he wants, and pop the button on my pants, lower the zipper. His hands grab the waistband, helping me get it off. My pants and panties fall to the floor before he drops to his knees, his eyes fixed on my pussy as he spreads my legs and places them over his broad shoulders.

He pushes his hair out of his face and dives in, his mouth pressing against my lips, and I moan as his tongue darts out and licks me for the first time.

My hands hold onto the surface beneath me, my body slumping back into the wall, the sensation of the cold brick against my shoulders,while he starts to eat me out. Soft groans and mewls drop from his lips, getting lost in the slick and warmth. His lids are closed, his lashes adorning his cheeks, seeming almost solemn. The stern expression he usually wears on his face nowhere to be found, the frustration that was plaguing him today slowly dissipated throughout the evening and I can't find any of it left in his eyes when he looks up at me. Finding mine, holding the gaze.

His nose is buried in the soft curls as his mouth closes around my clit, sucking, licking over it with his flat tongue, coaxing moan after moan from me.

My hands dart out, the one grabbing his fingers that press into my thigh, the other caressing down the side of his face.

"Fuck, can't get enough of you.", he breathes, licking me again. Lapping up the wetness, desperately tasting me.

My eyes turn up, breaking the eye contact, my thighs are starting to shake and I come on his tongue. His hands are steadying me, so I don't fall off the dresser, my body writhing, my head pressing against the hard wall behind me. My moans resound in the small space around us, the stimulation making me lose my mind.

He doesn't stop until I grab his hair, pulling him up to me. He grunts, reluctantly breaking away from my pussy, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss that I answer with the same frenzy. Tasting myself on his lips.

He hastily unbuckles his belt, freeing his erection that has been straining against the zipper, hard, the tip smeared with pre-cum. Breaking the kiss to look down between our bodies. He grabs himself by the base, slowly dragging it over my pussy. Finding the entrance and dipping into the wetness.

His eyes are intently on mine, my mouth falling open as he stretches me, my eyebrows turning up. His jaw drops, his expression mirroring mine.

He's so close, our panting breaths intermingling. A choked moan rising up my throat when he fills me, the tip pressing up against my cervix.

My legs close around his waist, pulling him closer. He lifts me off the dresser, but we don't get far as he presses me up against the wall, steadying me with his arms. Fucking into me, his hips pushing forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.", he curses, the desperation in his voice sending a pang of need between my thighs.

I hold onto his shoulders, my back pressed against the wall behind me, meeting his movements.

"So tight, Liebes.", he grunts. "Driving me crazy."

A little laugh shakes me before him bottoming me out makes me moan again. "What should I say, huh?", I shoot back, teasing him.

He halts and captures my face between his thumb and pointer. "Oh, but you always take me so well.", he tells me, knowing what those words do to me. And they don’t miss their impact.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingle running down my spine. “Fitting together like two puzzle pieces.”, I joke, which pulls a deep hearty laugh from his throat.

“Well put.”, he says, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He hoists me up again, making our way to the bedroom. His dick moving inside me with every single one of his steps, and I sigh as I snuggle into the crook of his neck.

He slips out of me and almost throws me down into the mattress, quickly getting off his clothes, and I pull my shirt above my head, fully naked now. I lie down, my belly against the sheets.

The mattress dips down as he drapes his body over me, his warm skin against mine. I look back at him, propping myself up on my forearms. Inviting him in, and the hurry drops away again.

He brushes my hair out the way, looking into my eyes, as his dick slides between my thighs. My mouth falls open, little panting breaths dropping from my lips, when he drags him himself back and forth, his length pressing against my slick pussy.

He slips into me, filling me up again, and I relish the feeling, familiar but still intense every time. He pulls me up, his hand grabbing the back of my head, kissing me. His lips softly against mine as he backs off and presses into me again. Slowly, savouring how I take every inch, until he's fully seated inside me. Rolling his hips, almost lazily.

Soft, so soft.

“Feels so good.”, I mumble into the kiss, thrusting my ass back, meeting his languid strokes.

Losing myself in the hazy pleasure, the slow and sweet fuck. Moving in unison until his hips are rutting forward, stuttering, as he loses the rhythm. Still kissing me while he comes inside me.

"Ngh, Liebes...", he grunts against my lips, pushing in one last time, slumping down on me, and I feel his weight on me for a moment.

I cradle his face, my thumb coasting over his jaw, wiping away a drop of sweat. His panting breaths fill the room, and I can't help but smile. Pressing another kiss to his lips, a small sweet one.

It seems to stir him awake and he doesn't stay slumped over me, propping himself up on his hands again, smirking down at me.

He pushes into me again, my mouth shaping into an O, my eyebrows turning up, and I can feel the wetness seep out of me as his dick fills me up again.

The question on my face must be clear when I crane my neck to look up at him.

"Didn't think it was over, did you?", he drawls, starting to fuck me harder. "You can give me one more, Hexe."

"Oh fuck.", I mumble as his hips snap forward, colliding with my ass. I hold onto his arm, steadying myself, my nails burying into his muscly forearms.

I remember how he was careful with me at first, afraid to break me. How he doesn't have such reservations anymore. Thrusting into me at an almost punishing pace. Trusting that I would use my safeword if it in fact was too much.

And I remember how I imagined how fucking him must be before we did it for the first time, and how it compares to reality.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy.

Grabbing my hips, positioning me to fuck me even deeper. Sliding in and out of me, bottoming me out which pulls whimpers from me every time. Making me lose my mind quickly.

His hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly.

“Good girl, oh fuck.”, he praises me. “Taking me so well…” He lets go of me, his hand coming down on my butt, and I cry out at the sting.

Alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

My hands are fisting the sheets beneath me, and my eyes are rolling back, lewd sounds getting pulled from my throat, as he plunges his dick into me again and again.

"Fuck, König...", I sigh, his name getting swallowed up when my face gets pushed into the sheets again.

"Say it again.", he grunts, but the hard thrusts of his hips unintentionally shut me up as he leans forward again, pressing me into the mattress. "Need to hear you say it, Liebes."

And I do say his name as I come once again, the sounds turning into uncontrollable moans, and he is not stopping until I'm a writhing shivering mess beneath him and he is pressing sweet kisses to my face again.

He pulls me with him as he rolls off me, bringing my body close to his until I'm draped over him. Basking in the afterglow, pressing myself up against his warm chest, our heavy breaths intermingling.

I remember how we joked about him keeping up, him making a comment about how I should be concerned to keep up with him, and most of the time he's right, but seeing him a little out of breath after we just had sex. Just like right now. It makes me feel all kinds of things. Deliciously dirty and heartwarmingly fluffy ones.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm feeling so sleepy.", I mumble into a yawn. The sleepiness caught up and is taking over me now.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple, his arms engulfing me. "That's okay, Liebes, just sleep.", he whispers, and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to his pillowy chest.

"G'night..."

"Gute Nacht."

~ more in the Masterlist ~

[ramsayxme]

You've Been Watching Me.

You dried your dripping hands across the front of your horribly filthy skirt. Back home, you wouldn't even allow your lowest servant to wear such a filthy piece of clothing. Everything was different now, you sighed as you finished washing the last dish. You could still hear the loud laughter trickling in from the dining hall while you emptied the washing bucket down the drain. You didn't have servants anymore; you were the servant.

You didn't remember much about when Ramsay Bolton captured you, but you did remember you lost everything. You used to have your own warm bed to sleep in with layers and layers of carefully hand woven blankets draped all across, each with a beautiful design. You used to love to run your hand along the intricate designs that were woven with such grace, skill, and care...Now you fiddle with the loose twine that holds your skirt from falling down to your ankles. Not quite as beautiful.

You can't even begin to imagine what you look like now. Your long brown hair felt wiry and stringy but greasy and oily at the same time. Your eyes felt sunken from lack of sleep. You felt bony and scrawny, unable to remember the last time you felt the sensation of fullness in your belly. You sighed as you exited the kitchen chamber and into the hallway. There was one good bit about being captured, though. Your captor was a handsome monster.

Of course, you knew how horrible, vicious, and vile this man was. After all, you had witnessed it first hand a few times so far. Regrettably, there was something about him that peaked your interest. There was a slight sexiness to the way he asserted dominance and power, as if he had no fears in the whole world. You had studied Ramsay's face many times while he was asserting his power, and you had always noticed the way he lit up. It was obviously arousing for him to watch people squirm until they give in to him.

Last week, you had watched in the shadows while he tortured and mutilated the man who was formerly known as Theon Greyjoy, now just a broken pet named Reek. You felt yourself heat up just by watching him abuse his power and ever since then, you had fantasized about him using that power on you. You were obviously ashamed of this, but you knew it was just a fantasy and nothing more.

You finally reached your bed chambers, your bare feet chilled from the cold stone of the castle. You walked over to your small fire that was still glowing, and you climbed on your unstable 'bed' right in front of the stone fireplace. It was made with a plank resting on uneven stones and covered with a few pelts. It was wildly uncomfortable. Your room was tiny, but you weren't in it much. You were either doing your chores or sneaking around, trying to catch glimpses of Ramsay throughout the day. You liked watching him.

You were so unimportant to him that he never noticed you. You could just pretend to be sweeping the floor while he ate dinner, cleaning the linens while he screamed at another servant, or just simply laying low in the shadows like you did the other day. You felt your adrenaline rush when you watched him. You couldn't help yourself!

You began warming your ice cold toes by the fire, reaching down and rubbing them slightly. You were lost in your thoughts when you heard your door slam. As you jumped to turn around, you saw one of the other servants standing at your door. It was a scraggly looking boy, you guessed not much older than 15. "Oh. You scared me." You said, turning back towards the fire. The boy still stood at your door. "What is it?"

He looked down at the floor. "Ramsay has requested you." You felt your heart race in secret. "What? Why? I haven't done anything wrong." You had not yet turned back to the boy. "I don't know." He muttered, "He asked for you. Let's go, before he gets angry at me." The boy had just planted an idea in your head. Poor boy.

"I don't believe you." You smirked, still facing the fire. "Come on!" He begged, a little louder and much more desperate this time. "You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting, please..." You sighed and stood up to face the boy. "What do you imagine he wants from me?" You pretended to be too scared to go with him. The boy quickly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but we can find out. Please. Hurry." He was truly terrified. You felt excitement bubble up in you. "Fine." You finally agreed.

The boy led you down the hallway to one of the side chambers. It was similar to the dining hall but a little smaller. He pushed the door, causing a loud squeaking noise to fill the air. You stepped inside and saw Ramsay sitting at the table. He was alone. You felt a shiver slither up your spine, but it wasn't fear. You tried to look scared.

"That took... longer than I wanted." Ramsay said softly, his eyes staring into the young boy. You heard the boy shift his weight, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. She... she didn't want to come right away, she moved slowly." He whispered, his eyes glancing at your feet on the floor. You shook your head, determined to make Ramsay angry at the boy. You felt guilty, but you wanted to watch him get mad. "Not true, Ramsay. He got lost on the way. I tried to tell him to take a left after the dining hall, but he didn't listen to me."

The boy's jaw hung slack as he stared at you, realizing what you were doing. "I see." Ramsay said, his eyes still stuck on the boy. You watched Ramsay inhale deeply as he pulled his shoulders back. He was wearing a front buttoned vest with a wool long sleeve underneath it. His curly dark hair swooped over his eyebrows and his piercing blue eyes shifted around underneath. His jaw was strong as he grit his teeth. He exhaled his breath with the words "Come here", directed to the boy. He sulked over, slouching wit defeat as he approached Ramsay.

Ramsay reached out and grabbed a handful of the boy's horribly messy hair. He yanked him down to his face and whispered something into the boys ear. You couldn't hear what he said, but you felt yourself get excited watching Ramsay be so powerful. The boy shuddered as Ramsay let go of his hair, a smile breaking across his face. "Run along now!" Ramsay yelled, sending the boy running out the door. He swung it shut as he left, causing it to slam loudly.

Now, it was just you and Ramsay...alone.

"Yes, Ramsay, what did you need from me?" You ask, breaking the silence in the room. Ramsay smiles, his lips slowly unveiling his sharp incisors as he grins wider. "Have you enjoyed it?" He asked, his voice deep and quiet. You felt a wave of anxiety flow across your torso. "Enjoy what?" You asked. He did not answer you. He simply lifted his hand and gave a 'come here' motion. His eyes were peering at you from behind his curls. You swallowed a small bubble of nerves as you stepped closer to him.

He did not seem satisfied until you were at the other edge of the table, directly across from him. He looked up at you, his shoulders square and his breathing steady. You stared in silence for a moment before he began chuckling. "You do enjoy it!" He laughed. You still weren't sure what he was saying but before you could ask, he answered for you. "You've been watching me."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Ramsay kept going. "You think you're sneaky, but you're not, no you are far from it! Do you really think I don't know everything that happens around here?" He swirled his finger around in the air, indicating the whole castle. "I noticed you watching me the first time you did it. I saw you in the corners when I was..." his eyes rolled around as he was trying to find the right words. "...playing with Reek."

Again, you opened your mouth to speak. "You like it, don't you?" Ramsay asks more firmly this time. All you can do is slowly nod your head. He knows. He has known this whole time. "What exactly do you enjoy about it? Do you like hearing the screams of pain too? Or is it something else?" He asks you. His eyes are very intense. He is staring directly at your face and you feel your cheeks flush. "I...." "Speak up, dear. I can't hear you." He grinned.

"I like watching you... I don't really know what it is, but I like watching you be powerful." Ramsay snickers at this. "It is not the torture alone that you enjoy, but its watching me torture others? You like my power?" He asked you although his voice oozed with confidence that he already knew the right answer. You hesitated to answer, and with a ~shing~ you heard Ramsay unsheathe one of his knives from his belt, twirling it in his hand, and then pointing it at you. "Answer me." He demanded, his eyebrows raised.

Oh, Gods. You swallowed another bubble, but again, it wasn't fear. You felt a breathy whimper slowly escape your lips as you sighed. "Yes." His eyes seemed to light up to your response, and perhaps also the moan that crept out. "Wonderful." He said, still pointing the knife at you. "Come here." He demanded. You swiftly walked around the table and stood facing him at his side. Your breathing was quick, you were so close to touching him.

He stood up quickly, pushing the chair out from under him with a loud scrape on the floor. He turned to you, making direct and intense eye contact immediately. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He slowly brought the knife up to your neck and pressed the tip of the blade against your throat. "Now," He began, his voice low and breathy, his face only inches from yours. "I want you to do something for me to show me how much you enjoy watching me. Can you do that for me?"

You gently nodded your head, staring into his hungry eyes. He pressed the knife against you harder, the edge of it barely nicking your jaw. "Use your words." He groaned through gritted teeth. "Yes... yes, I can do it..." You didn't recognize your own voice. It sounded smoother and thicker than usual. Ramsay dropped the blade on the table. "Are you going to do anything I say?" He asked, almost cooing at you. His lips were close enough to your face that if you barely leaned forward, you would be kissing him. You felt the warmth of his breath on your own lips.

"Yes, I will do anything you-" Before you can finish your sentence, his hand wraps around your throat tightly. You feel your airway cut off and watch his eyes widen as he chokes you. You reach your hands up and place them on the hand around your throat out of instinct. His eyes dart across your face, almost as if he is examining every tiny movement you make. You notice his breathing is steady and controlled even though his eyes are wild and his teeth are barred. He lets his grip loosen a bit, but doesn't completely let go. You want him.

You lean forward slightly, in hopes to kiss him. He doesn't allow you, his grip tightens when you lean. "What do you think you're doing?" He chuckles at your pathetic attempt of romance. "Are we making love now? No, I don’t believe we are." Ramsay just laughs at you as he releases your throat and sits back down in the chair. "Get under the table." He demands. You do not hesitate this time.

You crouch under the table and sit on your shins, the stone is hard on your knees but you can't seem to be bothered. Ramsay scoots his chair back so he can peer down at you, and you stare up at him. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat and your stomach. You watch him intently as his hands dip to his trousers and he unlaces his waistband, his gaze never leaving your face. You watch as he pulls on his trousers, releasing his erection for you. You sharply inhale, watching him do this is something you thought was only possible in your dark fantasies. He snickers as he pulls himself out of his pants completely, and interlaces his fingers before resting his hands on the table in front of him. He stares down at you with a dominant glare and you feel yourself melt slightly.

You sit eagerly on the floor, watching him as he raises his eyebrows at you. “Well? You enjoy watching me, now let me enjoy watching you.” You feel your stomach flip in your body with excitement. You scoot forward on your shins and place your head on his knee. You stare up at him and manage to whisper “I’ve been fantasizing about this for days.” He gives you a closed lip smile and nods. “I know. I can tell. Now, go on…” You take a deep breath in and stare at his erection. You can’t believe this is about to happen. You want to pleasure him more than you’ve ever wanted to do anything in your life. You reach your hands up and wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft as you place your lips on the warm tip of his cock.

Slowly, you began kissing the head. You swirl your tongue gently as you allow your eyes to flutter shut. His head is soft and smooth, your tongue gliding across him with ease. You kiss deeper, allowing his entire tip in your mouth. You sense Ramsay take a deep breath, making your core heat up. You’re really pleasuring this powerful man. You feel so special and invincible. Your confidence seeps out of your body through your actions as you open your mouth wider and take in more of him. You were moving slow but with intention. You felt his cock in the back of your throat and you began bobbing up and down, methodically and determined. Ramsay sighed again, his hands must have left their spot at the table because one of his hands wrapped around your hair at the back of your neck. You felt the slight pressure on the back of your head as he placed his hand there, softly pushing your head down to ease his cock snugly in your mouth.

You continued to pleasure him, now allowing his cock to fully enter your throat. You started losing control as he began taking control, you knew this was bound to happen. You knew that Ramsay wouldn't actually give you full control. You felt him wrap your hair around his fist once, and then grip on it tightly. He pushed and pulled your head, using your mouth at whatever speed pleased him. It was uncomfortable for you, but you were more focused on the grunts and breathy sighs coming from his throat.

Without warning, he shoved his chair back and stood up; leaving you alone under the table with your dripping chin. "Get up." He growled, his grin proving that his demand was enticing. You stumbled to your feet and stood, your ass against the edge of the table. Ramsay smiled at you for a moment before diving his face into the crook of your neck. He yanked the fabric of your shirt down your shoulder, allowing the soft skin to be exposed to him. You sucked in a breath as he began kissing your neck eagerly with bites in between kisses. You felt yourself groan when he bit down a bit harder, which made him reach to your waist and squeeze your hips.

His hands snaked from your hips to behind your thighs as he lifted you, setting you down on the table. You frantically began pulling your skirt up, bunching it around your torso. Ramsay chuckled at this. "You're an eager one." He whispered into your ear before biting down on the flesh directly below your earlobe. A whimper escaped your lips. You realized your arms were desperately tugging at Ramsay's sleeves and the front of his vest. Gods, you were not very good at hiding your lust for him. He stepped back one step before yanking his vest open and tearing it off. Then, he pulled the wool long sleeve over his head. You gawked at the sight, his pale and toned frame heaving as he stared at you with a predatory glare.

He stepped forward again, pressing himself against your core. Your skirt was still bunched around your sides, fully exposing yourself. Ramsay's cock nudged at your entrance as he allowed his trousers to fall from his thighs to his ankles. You reached out in an attempt to allow your fingers to graze over his pale skin, but he stopped you with his own hands. He grabbed your wrists and tucked them at your sides. "Lay down. Hands under your lower back." You obeyed, slowly leaning backwards and tucking your arms underneath the small of your back. "Good." He quietly praised you.

He grabbed the same knife from the edge of the table and wielded it in his hand. He leaned forward, pressing it against your neck, the cold blade sending shivers down your body. He slid the knife under the neckline of your shirt and easily sliced through the filthy fabric, exposing your breast to him. He pulled the shirt open like a cloak and began kneading at your chest while he nudged at your entrance, his cock pressing against your needy core. The knife returned to your throat as he lined himself up with your cunt. His free hand still groping your body, squeezing and pulling at your soft flesh. He leaned forward, pressing his length inside you easily. You were clearly very aroused, as your body was slick and easy to enter.

You whined as he stretched you. He enjoyed your whimpers. He clenched his jaw as he began pumping in and out, not allowing your body to adjust. You cried out with a combination of pain and pleasure, and Ramsay simply growled in return. He continued to press the knife against your throat, the blade threatening to slice through your skin at any moment. He did not break eye contact while he began fucking you. His icy eyes bore deep into your own, causing your stomach to flutter with arousal. This was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Seeing Ramsay abuse his power was one thing, but watching him to do it to you? Incredible.

You felt yourself growing warm, your body fully adjusting to him and beginning to float with pure bliss. You must've gave your enjoyment away on your face, because Ramsay pulled his cock from you. You whimpered as you felt empty, and your eyes snapped open to see him take a step backwards. "Get up." He demanded. You brought yourself off the table and realized how sore your arms and shoulders were. You stood in front of Ramsay, your skirt falling back to its original length.

"I can't have you enjoying this too much." He cooed, shaking his head with disappointment. He brought the knife back to your throat. You swallowed as you watched his eyes scan over your face. His other hand grabbed your hands and he brought them to his wet cock, still hard. "Please me." He demanded as he grabbed the nape of your neck once again. "Yes, Ramsay." You obeyed. You began stroking his cock while he leaned into you. You were using your hands to please him while he kept the knife pressed against you and had your hair wrapped around his other hand. He turned your head to the side, giving him access to your neck and ear. He breathed against your ear, causing goosebumps to rip across your skin.

He kissed your earlobe as the knife pressed against your jawline. You were steadily and rhythmically using your hands to jerk him off. Your mind blurred as you pleased him. Your brain drowned in the sounds of his shaky breaths and moans between the kisses on your neck. You knew he was growing close to orgasm, the grip on your hair was extremely tight and the knife was pressed against your jaw firmly. You were afraid he would slice your throat without knowing.

His hips began thrusting forward, his body begging for more pleasure. He lurched a few times before his thighs tightened and the knife actually dug into your jawline. He came, releasing a groan from deep within his belly as he did. You were gasping for air just as much as he was, you hadn't realized you had been holding your breath. He came down from his climax and finally released your hair. He noticed the nick on your jawline from his knife and he chuckled. "I got a bit carried away, didn't I?" He reached out to your chin and pulled it towards him, allowing you to face him once more. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing your mouth for the first time. You felt your heart flutter. The kiss was too short. He pulled away and bent over to pull his trousers up.

"Go wash your wound. I may need you again later tonight." He grinned as he turned to walk away, leaving you a panting mess. You were desperate for your own release, feeling the sexual tension built up in your own body. You watched Ramsay disappear in the hallway and you looked down at yourself. Your open shirt hanging off your elbows. Your dress even dirtier than it was before, but this time you didn't really seem to mind as much.