#rosie's Mistress

[transbian-goddess]

She's so cute when she gets all shy like that ;)

I recently learned that a particular sub of mine still had some conditioning from a while back that hadn't been used in quite a while, specifically that she had a bit of a tendency to become incredibly dazed and begin dropping into trance when presented with a cock (though, talking to her afterwards, she doesn't think that this conditioning would activate for most people). I learned this through a tiny bit of teasing on a call, when she saw my wonderful Bitchbreaker through the shorts I was wearing, her eyes rolled back and her tongue came out. Learning that on its own was very interesting. More interesting was just how effective this conditioning was, just how deeply she dropped from such a small tease, from only seeing it through my clothing. Naturally, seeing the effect that already existing conditioning had on her was quite a "blood in the water" moment for me, and, with her permission, I continued. After teasing her a bit more by showing off, it became incredibly clear that she was very, very suggestible in this state. I took my fingers, made a circle, and told her that however far down those fingers were on my girlcock, that's exactly how much she'd feel thrusting into her mouth. With her eyes rolling back and her tongue out, she took that cock like a wonderful, adorable little slut, so much passion and energy pouring into this imaginary girlcock fucking her face over and over and over. When it leaked and I told her to lap it up, she did, she was so empty, so mindless, so focused on serving this perfect Bitchbreaker, and I decided to have a bit of fun, to break my pathetic bitch a little more. I made her choke on it, put the whole thing down her throat as roughly as I could over and over, watched her drop even deeper with every single thrust, and reinforced this particular little piece of conditioning, just a bit, making it stronger, making it apply to my tits as well, making it easier to activate, even if she just saw me playing with either through my clothes she'd begin to feel the effects. Watching her empty little head take all of that new conditioning in with so little resistance as she kept mindlessly serving was absolutely wonderful. And of course, I couldn't just leave things there. I had her listen to me. I told her that, if she did a good job, if I finished in her mouth, she'd simply fall asleep. She gets a nice little taste of Mistress, of her sweet, irresistible girlcum, and then sleep for me. And she did such a good job, following along, listening, and when I finished, I simply told her to sleep for me. Her tongue twitched, lapping it up just as she had done earlier, and she collapsed onto her bed. I ended up staying in this call with her for a bit after that, just staying nearby, whispering little affirmations, until I was sure she was properly asleep rather than just in trance. Afterwards I left the call, left her a message telling her I hope she had enjoyed herself, and about an hour and a half later, I received a message from her saying that she had woken up covered in drool, and that her memory of what had happened was fuzzy at best, (which is rather interesting because I hadn't given her any commands related to memory during this, but regardless, it was incredibly cute). I'll admit I haven't done sessions that intense, that explicitly sexual (and especially focused on my own body) very often, but it was very, very fun. Seeing her eyes rolled back for that long, her drooling and sucking on a part that wasn't even really there with so much passion, it was wonderful, and I need to do something similar to her in the future, because the look that adorable, pathetic bitch had on her face made me want nothing other than to find ways to break her in even more.

[elliesbelle]

i need her so bad it’s so unfunny

[velvet4510]

I just want to say to my fellow female Tolkien fans that we should not feel ashamed for loving these books that are admittedly male-centric.

It’s tempting to call Tolkien a sexist for including so few female characters in his legendarium - and I admit that yes he was not entirely free of sexism - but we must remember that the women he did include are the epitome of girl power and some of the best role models we could ask for: strong and willful and noble and brave, without sacrificing their femininity to prove themselves.

It’s glorious to me how you can flip through the books and see page after page of men doing everything … and then suddenly:

There’s Varda creating the Stars, Sun, and Moon!!

There’s Yavanna saving her trees by inspiring the creation of the Ents!!

There’s Melian making an Elf king forget his own people and then shielding an entire kingdom!!

There’s Lúthien defeating Sauron himself AND Morgoth himself!!!

There’s Idril preventing the complete annihilation of her people by creating the secret path out of Gondolin!!

There’s Galadriel resisting the One Ring!!

There’s Éowyn killing the lord of the Nazgûl!!

There’s Ioreth saving the victims of the Black Breath through her knowledge that the king will be the healer!!

There’s Arwen bridging the gap between Elves and Men as Queen of Gondor!!

There’s 100-year-old Lobelia beating Ruffians with her umbrella and leaving money in her will to help homeless hobbits!!

There’s Rosie raising 13 kids while simultaneously serving the whole Shire as Mistress of Bag End!!

There’s Elanor guarding and preserving the Red Book so that we can read it now!!!

That’s why I just can’t hold too big of a grudge about this. Yes, Tolkien didn’t write female characters too often, and it would’ve been fantastic if there were more. But when he did write them, they were amazing.

And on top of that, his male characters display literally our dream level of healthy masculinity in a man. Frodo, Sam, Aragorn, Faramir, etc. are our wish fulfillment. We have every right to enjoy that.

[harknessxo]

House Of Balloons

Paring: Dark!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: When Agatha went into Westview her goal was to find the source of such chaotic magic but the moment she saw you, her plan changed just a little bit.

Warnings; psychological abuse (with magic), google translate Latin, kissing, possessive Agatha, non-con, girl penis, breeding kink, corruption kink, dacryphilia.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I finished it and the realized I forgot the mistress kink. I’m so sorry!

When Agatha got tangled up in Wanda’s Hex, her plan was to figure out where the source of such power was and take every bit of it for herself. That was until you came along. See, she soon figured out Wanda was the one responsible for this sickening reality she created and made her mission to befriend her so it would be easier to get her power. She followed Wanda’s…script per-say and made sure to dress herself for each decade.

Then came the 60s episode. Agatha took Wanda to Dottie’s committee meeting and that’s when she saw you. She stopped in her tracks to admire your beauty but stopped before anyone would notice. She made sure to sit right next to you and strike up a conversation.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She complimented, trying to get your attention. You immediately looked in her direction, a rosy tint straining your cheeks.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered nervously. She chuckled at your nervousness. How adorable you were, she thought.

“I’m Agnes,” she introduced herself.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you,” you replied politely. She smiled as you told her your name. A beautiful name for such a beautiful doll.

“It’s a pleasure, doll,” she rested a hand on your knee, watching for your reaction to her flirting, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. New in town?”

“I…” you stopped yourself trying to remember. Why couldn’t you remember? She noticed your pause, but before she could say anything Dottie called for the meeting to start.

“Alright everyone lets start today’s meeting.” Dottie announced.

“We’ll continue our conversation later, darling.” Agatha placed a hand on your thigh and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Okay,” you smiled awkwardly. Why couldn’t you remember something so simple?

The meeting began, and though it was long and boring, Agatha enjoyed being next to you. Her hand had remained on your thigh but she felt you squirm under her touch so she moved it. That last thing she wanted was to scare you off. She wanted for you to come to her willingly…at least with a little bit of magic.

As the meeting continued on Agatha kept stealing halves at you every now and then, completely forgetting why she was there in the first place and instead brewing a whole new plan that included you coming with her after she sucked Wanda dry of her powers.

Her mind slowly formed and tweaked her plan, but it still had one problem. A small, yet critical obstacle. That would be Wanda Maximoff herself. But…this town was Agatha’s to play with. If anyone would ruin her plans, it would be her.

Eventually, the meeting was done. Agatha didn’t hesitate to keep you from walking away, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and gently holding you in place.

“Would you like to come over for some tea, sweetheart?” she asked but it came out more as a demand.

“I uh- sure!” you replied nervously. She smirked, pleased that you didn’t put up a fight. She guided you out of the room, her hand resting on the small of your back, her touch hot through the fabric of your dress.

“Good choice. I want to get to know you better,” You were quite confused by this woman’s sudden interest in you but for some reason you didn’t question it, you couldn’t.

She chuckled as you seemed so…naive. You were just like putty in her hands. It wouldn’t be long until she’d have you wrapped around her finger and at her feet. Once she got you to her home, she led you to the couch and sat you down, sitting beside you with her thigh against yours.

“Do you have a preferred type of tea?”

“Anything is fine by me, thank you,” she smiled, reaching out to caress your cheek with her hand. She loved how you were just so easily trusting, even when her touch was possessive and forceful. She leaned a little closer to you as she spoke.

“I have some jasmine tea that I love. That will have to do.”

“O-okay…” you watched as she walked into her kitchen, all while you tried to wrap your head around what was happening. You kept trying to remember anything only for a harshful voice forcefully telling you to stop inside your own mind, making you wince.

Once the tea was brewed, she carried the tea kettle and two cups to the coffee table in front of you. She gently poured a cup of tea for both of you before sitting beside you once more, the tea kettle on the floor next to her. She watched you closely as you seemed uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“No! Of course not!” you quickly said, not wanting her to offend her, “I just…I can’t seem to remember anything. I- I don’t know how to explain it.” This made her remember you were under Wanda’s spell along with the rest of the town. She frowned thinking of how much pain you were under.

“You can’t remember anything? At all?”

“No. It’s like every time I try…a voice yells at me to stop…” silence fell into the room which made you snap out of the sudden trance, “I’m sorry- that was stupid to say- how long have you lived here?” You said trying to change the subject. She mentally chuckled at your little change in subject but didn’t push it. The least she could do was answer some of your questions…even if they were boring.

“Hm… about a month or two,” she hummed, reaching out to grab her cup of tea, her fingers slightly grazing against your thigh in the process. That wasn’t intentional…in your eyes. You picked up the other tea cup and took a sip, oblivious to the enchantment Agatha had put in it. It was meant to…plant seeds for you to fall for her bit by bit.

She watched you closely as you drank the tea, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. The enchantment slowly began to take effect, the magic flowing through your body. She could see it in your eyes, how your pupils slightly dilated and your body seemed to be a bit more relaxed than before.

“This tea is really good! What did you put in it?” You gushed. She feigned innocence, shrugging her shoulders slightly as she took a sip of her own tea.

“Just some herbs I picked from my garden,” she lied, watching you closely. The effects were definitely taking effect on you, and it only took a few more moments before you would be completely in her grasp.

As you continued on talking to Agnes for the rest of the afternoon, you began to feel more attracted towards her. As if something was pulling you towards her and you couldn’t help it. You had finished your tea and now, you were practically glued to Agatha’s side. She sat on the couch, her legs stretched out across the cushions and her arms draped over the back of the couch. You were sitting right beside her, your body almost pressed up against hers. She loved how the enchantment was affecting you, making you more needy for her touch.

As adorable as she thought you were like this, she wanted to take her time with you so she walked you home to make sure you were safe even as you tried to protest, wanted to stay with her a little longer.

When she arrived at your house, she smirked at your cute pout. She chuckled and gently grabbed your chin between her fingers, forcing you to look at her.

“Now, now, doll. I have things to do and I need you to behave for me, alright?”

“Okay…will you come over tomorrow?” She smiled, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb.

“Of course I will, darling. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow!”

“Good night, sweetheart,” she said with a smirk before giving you a little push towards your door, waiting for you to enter your house before she left. As you went into your home, you felt that voice in your head once again telling you what to do and how to do it. It made you wince but you did as it said, too afraid of the consequence if you didn’t. It told you to go to bed and so you did only for nightmares that didn’t belong to you to occur as if they were reality.

For the next three episodes you only fell harder for Agnes. She made the voice in your head quiet down though ever since the first day you met her, your recurring headaches got worse. She could tell you were in so much pain but was skeptical in lifting Wanda’s spell. If she lifted Wanda’s spell, she would also lift her own. She didn’t know how you would react.

You were now sitting in your living room talking with Agnes while your tv was on for background noise. You were practically sitting on her lap with how close you were to her. She had one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close to her. She loved the way you practically clung to her. She was also having trouble keeping her hands to herself. Her hand slowly slipped underneath your shirt and gently caressed the skin of your hip, a small smirk on her lips as she watched your reaction.

“So, did you like the cookies I baked you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! They were so good. You need to teach me how to make them!” you gushed like you always did with everything she made. She chuckled at your enthusiasm, her hand slowly sliding up your hip and moving to your stomach, her fingers gently tracing small patterns against your skin. Gosh you were so cute.

“Of course I will, darling. We can bake them together some time,” she hummed, gently tugging you even closer. When you looked up at her you realized how closer the two of you were now. You looked down her lips yet didn’t do anything, too scared to make a move.

She noticed your gaze flicker down to her lips and she couldn’t help but chuckle, her hand on your hip squeezing slightly. She was patient, but she knew that you needed some encouragement. She lifted her other hand and gently tilted your chin up to look her in the eye.

“Something on your mind, darling?” Your lips parted but no words came out. She raised an eyebrow, amused at your lack of response. She leaned in a little closer, her breath warm against your lips as she spoke.

“Use your words, sweetheart. You know I like it when you speak,” she purred, her hand on your stomach slowly moving up your torso, her fingertips grazing the underside of your bra. Her praise only urged you to pull her in for a kiss. Her lips were so soft but before you could enjoy it, a bolt of pain surged through your head, making you pull away and hiss in pain. She was taken by surprise by your sudden pull away, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at you.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” She asked, her hand that was on your stomach quickly moving up to gently rub your head, trying to soothe the pain that you were experiencing.

“Uh nothing,” you pulled away from her and started to stand up, “I’m going to get some water, would you like something to drink?” She furrowed her eyebrows, noticing your hesitance to answer her question. She knew she was half responsible for your pain.

“No, I’m fine, doll. Go ahead and get some water.”

“O-okay,” you walked into your kitchen, the voice in your head turned into two and they only grew louder. You picked up a glass and poured yourself some water. As you were about to take a sip of it, the voices suddenly screamed in your head and you dropped the glass cup, making it break.

A gasp escaped Agatha’s lips as she heard the sound of glass breaking in the kitchen. She quickly got up and rushed over to you, her eyes widening as she saw you on the ground with shattered glass around you.

“Y/n!” She said worriedly, immediately crouching down to your level and gently cupping your face in her hands, “Are you okay?”

“Agnes, it hurts! Please make it stop,” your hands gripped onto her purple cardigan. She could feel her heart ache as she watched you in pain, tears forming in your eyes. She gently pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you protectively.

“Shh, I know it hurts, doll. Just try to relax for me,” Her fingers swirled around your temple as she began to chant what seemed like gibberish to you and soon the pain stopped. All your memories came back to you. The ropes of red magic surrounding your house and them engulfing you. You scrambled away from Agnes’ embrace, overwhelmed with everything that was happening all at once.

She let you scramble away, watching as you began to remember everything. She could tell that you were overwhelmed and panicking, so she stayed silent for a few moments, letting you process everything.

“Wanda…she did this,” you panted out and looked up, “Who are you?” She let out a soft sigh, knowing that this moment was going to happen eventually. She looked at you with a neutral expression on her face, noticing the fear in your eyes as you stared at her.

“You can call me Agatha. I’m…a witch,”

“No,” you scrambled further away from her until your back hit your counter, “Not another witch.” She slowly stood up and took a step closer to you, her hands held up in a calming gesture.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” she said softly, keeping her distance from you for now.

“Don’t call me that and stay away from me!” You grabbed a knife and pointed it at her, “I have to get out of here,” you mumbled more to yourself than her. She stopped in her tracks, a small frown on her face as she watched you grab the knife. She knew that she was still stronger than you and could easily overpower you if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to scare you further so she remained where she was.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said firmly, her eyes flickering between the knife and your face, “Now, put the knife down, sweetheart. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

“Yeah right. You’re just like Wanda.” Her eyes narrowed at your words, a hint of irritation in her expression. She took another step closer to you, taking the knife from your grasp and closing the distance between you.

“I’m nothing like Wanda,” she said through gritted teeth, “She’s the one who trapped you in this shit town under a fake reality. I was only trying to break through her stupid hex. Truly a waste of power. But you,” she grasped your jaw, “You made me change my mind. You’re special and you’re not leaving me.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” You shoved her off and made a run for the door only for a purple magic rope making you trip. A smirk made its way to her face as you fell to the floor. The next thing you knew, you were bound to the ground, your wrists pinned to the floor by the magic ropes as well. You started to struggle against the restraints, trying to get away but it was all in vain. She slowly knelt down in front of you, grabbing your chin to force you to look at her once again.

“There’s no use fighting against them, doll. They’re strong and won’t break no matter how much you struggle.”

“I knew it. You’re truly just like her.” You spit on her face. She closed her eyes and let out a low growl as your spit landed on her face. She used her free hand to wipe it off before wrapping her hand around your throat.

“Careful, sweetheart,” she said in a low, dangerous tone, “I may not like it when you talk back to me, but I can’t deny that it’s turning me on right now.”

“Let me go, please?” She chuckled softly, her grip on your throat not loosening in the slightest.

“Oh, pet. You’re adorable when you beg. But I’m afraid I can’t let you go. Not now that I have you right where I want you,” she waved her hand and you were now on your bed, naked and tied to the headboard, making your eyes widened in terror. She slowly crawled on top of you, a satisfied smirk on her face as she took in the sight of you tied up and helpless underneath her. She straddled your hips, her hands roaming over your body, admiring every inch of you.

“Don’t touch me!” you writhed under her. She let out a taunting sound as she continued to run her hands over your body, ignoring your protests. Her touch was possessive and rough, as if she was claiming you as hers.

“You’re mine now, doll. I can touch you however I want.” Tears started to well in your eyes.

“Please just-“ you swallowed the lump in your throat, “don’t hurt me…” She softened slightly at the sight of your tears, her hand gently cupping your face as she leaned down and licked the tears that started to spill from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, pet,” she cooed, “And I won’t hurt you…too bad.” You closed your eyes tightly as she started taking off her cardigan along with everything else and when she was done, she began to kiss down your jaw until she reached your ear.

“You will love me,” she whispered before she began chanting Latin, “Fac horologium contra. Serva quod perierat. Fac eam ama me quocunque pretio.“

“What- what are you doing?” She ignored your question and continued to chant a love spell.

“Reduc quod olim fuit meum. Omne pulchrum esse videtur.” You felt lightheaded like you were floating. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Agatha again, her forehead pressed against yours as she pounded into you. She had a look of intense focus on her face as she looked into your eyes, her hips moving at a steady pace. She could feel the effects of the spell working on you, the love and desire slowly filling your mind.

“Ag- Agatha?”

“Shh, it’s okay, pet. You completely mine now,” she answered breathlessly as she continued to thrust into you. Her eyes locked onto yours, a smirk on her face as she noticed the change in your expression from confusion to acceptance.

As you gained consciousness of your whole body, you began to feel the pleasure Agatha was giving you. You whimpered every time her cock rubbed against your g-spot. She smirked even more as she heard your whimpers, her pace increasing slightly as she leaned down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“There we go, doll. Just relax and let me take care of you,” she whispered against your skin.

“I…I am yours,” you gasped out.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” she purred, her hand gripping your hip tightly as she continued to pound into you.

“You’re all mine, and no one else’s. Your body, your mind, your soul. All mine to use as I please.”

“I think I’m gonna-“

“Come for me, pet,” she growled, her grip on your hip tightening even more as she continued to hit that spot inside you over and over again. She came along with you, spilling her load deep inside, finalizing her possession over you. She leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, possessive kiss as she rode out her orgasm, her tongue slipping into your mouth and dominating you completely.

“Humph…” Once she broke the kiss, she pulled out of you and laid down next to you, pulling you close against her body. She began to run her fingers through your hair, a satisfied smile on her face.

“You belong to me now, pet. All that’s left to do is take Wanda’s power. That way you and I can live happily ever after,” she said, watching as the reflection of her powers settled in your eyes.

“All yours~”

Taglist; @polaris-likethestar @wandasreallover @oh-no-bummer @phixiesworld @eliscannotdance @venomhimbo @aka-patsy @scoliobean @chlondykebar @marvelwomenarehot0 @mgruiz @daenerys713

[sleepynoons]

jing yuan x f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: nudity, suggestive content

notes: pls lmk if i'm missing any tags or warnings. anyway, nothing explicit this time, experimenting more w/ pieces that heavily focus on sexual tension + build-up. anyway x2, not sure how to describe the setting of this piece. still uses some hrs concepts like aeons. jing yuan is rich, the reader is his maid, and both use more formal language. this was a fun exercise!

THERE ARE a lot of rumors surrounding your master. you hear them when you go grocery shopping, visit the tailor, pick up the dry cleaning, drop off lunches at the front desk on days that he’s busy. some of them are about you – who are you? his wife? mistress? there’s no way you’re just a friend, right?

you’re trained to maintain a stoic facade, but inside, you can’t help but be entertained. you are none of those things, and one can only dream of sharing such a bond with him. you’re content with simply being his maid – you mustn’t tread closer.

on a wooden tray, you neatly arrange a cup of chamomile tea, another cup of warm, honeyed milk, and a folded newspaper of today’s news. before you leave the kitchen, though, you make sure to drop a few treats into a feeding bowl and rub at mimi’s stomach, your master’s beloved dog.

“your father needs some time alone,” you say to the animal. seemingly able to understand your words, mimi’s ears droop at a slight angle and she licks at your fingertips, seeking consolation. “he’ll be out soon, i promise.”

you get back up, wash your hands, and pick up the tray, heading over to your master’s bathroom.

from the hallway, you can hear the sound of water splashing and sloshing. if you strain a bit more, you can arguably make out some humming, nonsensical and haphazard in melody. when you reach the door, you hear submerging, and you know you’re right on time.

you knock on the door twice. “master, may i come in?”

you hear a faint noise of affirmation, no doubt muffled by the wall, and carefully enter without spilling the contents of the tray.

you’re greeted with a dazzling smile and glimmering droplets of soap and water slipping down naked skin.

your master greets you, fine smile lines outlining his rosy lips and delicate nose. “how many times have i told you that just my name will suffice?”

“master jing yuan,” you say as you place his drinks and paper on a designated drawer beside the tub, “how many times have i told you that you shouldn’t ask me to join you when you’re in the bathroom?”

“but who else can help me with my unruly mane of silver?” he pouts, tone feigning innocence.

“your hair isn’t unruly.”

“did you not call it that last time?”

you click your tongue. your master chuckles and turns away from you to face the other end of the tub. you grab a stool, hand him his newspaper, and take your place behind him. with a brush in hand, you unravel the red ribbon tying his hair and, with quick, gentle strokes, run the brush through the thick layers. you didn’t mean to call his hair unruly before, but you think there’s quite a bit of truth to it anyway. you also note that his hair has gotten quite long.

“master jing yuan, perhaps it’s time for a trim?” you suggest.

your master hums and leans back so that your hands can reach the crown of his head. “you are right. i shall leave it to you, then?”

shaking your head, you respond, “you really ought to get it done at a professional salon. i can only do so much.”

“you are a woman of many talents. i am sure you will do just fine,” he reassures. you huff in protest.

as your master’s only taking a soak today, you plait his hair into a thick braid before tying it up into a bun. you hand him his cup of tea, which is no longer scalding, and stand up to leave.

“oh!” he suddenly exclaims. “i seem to have forgotten my bathrobe.” he looks up at you expectantly, and you nod in understanding.

“i’ll go grab it. i’ll be right back.” you bow quickly before closing the door behind you on the way out and heading towards the laundry room.

you take your time. really, you needed an excuse to leave the bathroom. you’re glad that your master’s such a big fan of bath bombs, or else you’d see everything… you pat harshly at your warm cheeks to break free from your reverie. don’t tread any closer. you’re behaving like a schoolgirl experiencing her first love, and you can only groan internally at yourself. but you can’t blame yourself either – anyone would fall in love with your master if they know him the way you do. he’s so irresistible, and having been his maid for so long has only enabled you to witness more of his charisma and charm. you sigh, sitting on the floor in front of the dryer as you wait for it to de-wrinkle your master’s robe.

you return ten minutes later, both for your own wellbeing and to also give your master some time to himself.

“master jing yuan, i’m back. may i come in?”

instead of a reply, though, the door cracks open, and your master, wearing nothing but a towel tied loosely around his hips, appears before you. you yelp and rush to cover your eyes. he simply laughs at your antics before grabbing you by the arm and leading you into the bathroom.

“what – what are you –“

“i hurt my arm today, so i will need your help putting my robe on. it is quite heavy, after all.”

you don’t know where to look. you certainly can’t look at the bathroom mirror that covers the top-half of one wall or the marble on the other that shines and reflects so clearly. you opt to close your eyes and hold the robe up by the collar.

“this is hardly appropriate,” you mutter, embarrassment and nervousness coloring your tone. as a result, you try to distract yourself with another subject. “besides, couldn’t you have told me earlier? i would’ve prepared something in advance had i known.”

“i just noticed the bruise as well. seems i was a little careless today.” he then chuckles – at himself or you, you’re not sure.

you remark, “you? careless? that hardly goes together.”

your master lets you know that he’s put on his sleeves, so you step away, eyes still closed. 

immediately, he hums with obvious disapproval. “hm? why are you backing away?”

you sputter, “m-master jing yuan, i should not be here! if you could just – i don’t know – turn around or something, i can –“

“i have turned around.”

you sigh in relief, happy that he’s obedient for once. your master is often relentless in his teasing and tricks, and you’re grateful that he’s granting you mercy in this moment. so you open your eyes, ready to find your way to the door –

your master is standing dangerously close, so that you’re eye-to-eye with him. from this view, you can also see that his chest is barely covered, knot slowly slipping undone.

“master!” you gasp. the proximity, the surprise, the challenging look in his eyes – they’re all driving you mad.

he clears his throat. “jing yuan.”

“master jing yuan.”

“jing yuan.”

“oh, for aeons’ sake, jing yuan! you’re not wearing your robe properly!”

jing yuan gloats. he then says in a low, low whisper, “my hands have cramped up. can you do it for me instead?” he speaks directly into your ears, and you want to scream.

shaking, you stretch out your trembling hands and take the ends of the belt. you can feel jing yuan’s hot breaths fanning your cheek, and you can even smell the faint trace of lavender from the bath bomb. your fingers are too clumsy, though, and you fail multiple times in properly tying the belt. after a few more fruitless attempts, jing yuan reaches down, softly grabbing your hands, and gently guides them.

“and… like this,” he breathes. even when you’ve secured the knot, though, he doesn’t let go.

don’t tread any closer. “j-jing yuan,” you whimper. “please…”

his hands inch up, gliding from your palms to your forearms to your elbows. he does it so slowly, so seductively, so intentionally. he tugs you impossibly a little closer, and now you can feel the heat of his chest through your uniform. then, jing yuan rests his head on your shoulders, and his lips ghost the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver and shudder at the sensation. the two of you just stand there, him taking deep breaths, you holding yours.

finally, after a few minutes, jing yuan breaks the silence. “i can no longer employ you, my dearest.”

you feel faint. you’re never escaping the gossip now.

[shotmrmiller]

Mistress.

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB!Reader

TW: femdom! reader, slight degradation?, complete and utter submission, masturbation

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a hulking giant of a man, a solid figure of authority on base and the reaper itself on the field, passing through the enemy like smoke, taking their lives with him— had a big secret. To find out, even by chance, is a death sentence.

Simon on leave always went home to an empty flat. He just doesn't have the time to meet anyone, and he figures no one would want to have a relationship with someone who leaves for months on end and with little to no communication. But that didn't mean he did not want someone to spoil. Shower them with gifts and the money he accumulated over years of serving because he never had any time to spend it on anything other than basic necessities.

So once he was home, he indulged in his secret. His Mistress. You.

Sending £800 to your bank account, he sent a text.

'I'm home, Mistress.'

A reply, minutes later.

'You paid your tribute. I'll indulge you just this once, but you ought to remember we work on my schedule, not yours.'

'Of course, my Mistress. I humbly apologize.'

'I will be there in 30. You will not make me wait at the door.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

The Lieutenant was always overlooking something or someone on base, so you were perfect for him. You demanded complete control, and if not given, you took it regardless— and nothing was sweeter than having such a large man submit to you and only you.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You arrived outside his door, and without knocking just said, 'Simon.'

The front door was opened almost immediately, and you were greeted with Simon on his knees — you'll never get over how delicious he looks submitting to you even though he's so tall his head reaches your hipbones and you're in heels — with a collar already on his neck and the leash's handle on his raised palm. You step inside and watch him close the door.

'Good boy,' you murmur as you take the handle, 'Look at me.'

He lifts his head as you look down at him and you see his blue eyes soften at your outfit— which you'll never admit you purposefully put on, knowing it's his favorite based on past meetings.

You're wearing a pink latex corset dress with the laces tied tight on the entire back of the dress and the length of the dress reaches your upper thigh. For stockings, you have petal pink, sheer stay-ups, and your shoes are 'So Kate' 120mm in the same rosy color— and to finish the look, you've got on a long, black a-line wool coat that you're currently taking off and putting on the coat hanger by the front door.

Leash in hand, you walk towards the leather couch, hearing Simon's jeans dragging on his carpet as he crawls behind you before you turn and sit, crossing your legs.

"Permission to take your heels off, Goddess."

"Permission granted. You know what to do."

He takes your dainty foot in both his hands and presses his lips on your ankle, before moving on to the bridge of your foot. Squeezing the counter of your heel, he pulls it, and your toes slip from the shoebox— he gives a pathetic moan at the sight of your stocking-covered, white nail-polished toes.

Removing your other heel, he grabs both of your feet and places them flat on the floor before, still kneeling, he lowers his head to worship you, peppering kisses anywhere he can put his lips on.

You extend your toes and press them to his forehead, pushing him back up and away from you.

"That's enough."

He immediately kneels back on his haunches, and you look at his face to take in his body language. Pupils so large his iris is a thin blue ring, cheeks red and blotchy, mouth slightly agape as he let out shuddering wispy breaths.

Yanking on his collar, you open your legs and pull him to slot in between them. How his torso blankets your entire body makes your toes curl— and that he's still in a submissive pose and still massive makes your walls clench.

Simon, biting his lower lip, lets out a loud groan— gripping the side of the sofa cushions by your knees as his eyes gaze directly to the apex of your thighs. Right to your unclothed quim. Simon is the only sub that's ever seen you in any state of undress. He's the only one you'd fuck straight into his mattress if he begged, and he never looked so good than when he's begging you for attention.

You entangle your fingers into his ash-brown hair and pull, hard, to make eye contact and say, 'The next time you stare at anything other than my eyes without my explicit permission and I walk. I'll drain your bank account of every single pound and you'll thank me for it before I cut off all contact. This is your first and last warning."

Simon whimpers a pitiful little noise before jerking his head in an aggressive nod.

"Yes, my mistress."

You yank on his hair hard enough to wiggle his head a little and loudly say,

"Yes, my mistress what???"

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing, and proclaims, " Yes, my mistress. I am wholly unworthy of your beautiful gift. I deserve absolutely nothing from you."

Biting your lip, you let go of his hair and drag it down towards his jaw to softly cup his cheek.

In a faint, caressing voice you say, "Good boy. Staying in your place is easy once you're reminded of it."

You recline back, shift your eyes down to the monstrous bulge in Simon's pants before pressing your whole foot against his erection— noticing how there's still about 3 inches that your foot doesn't cover, jesus christ—

"What's this, then?", and you push your foot harder into him, and Simon gives a low moan, from deep in his chest— and he lowers his head, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open.

"Well? I asked a question and I did say it in english."

Simon raises his head and his eyes are glossy, scar across the corner of his upper lip whitening with how he thins them before answering.

"Oh, my Mistress, my Queen. I'm just so happy you're here, giving me your complete attention," and in a quieter, vulnerable tone says, "I missed this. Missed you."

That has your heart pounding against your rib cage. You clench your jaw— you cannot show Simon how exhilarated those words make you. You've been harboring the tiniest crush on Simon, and how could you not? Look at him. 6 foot 4, 320 pounds and he submits so beautifully. You'd ruin him. And with the small feel you've gotten from his cock, he'd definitely ruin you. But not now. Simon deserves a reward for being so good and obedient.

"Go on, pet. Show me how much you've really missed me. For you, I'll permit your release." Only for you.

Hands flying to his zipper, he takes his thick, long length out— what a fucking cock it was too, you can't wait to get your hands on it— he starts stroking it, skin bunching up at the flared head on the upstroke and Simon presses his thumb down on his slit. He lets out a hiss as he starts smearing the pre-come around the head and then smooths out the skin on the way down.

Your arm is stretched out holding your weight as you lean to the side, head tilted and you flick your eyes to Simon's face and you startle— Simon's holding direct eye contact, tongue wetting his bottom lip and you can feel heat radiating from your cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

You don't look away though. You stare right into his eyes as the room starts to fill with faster paced, wet, skin slapping noises— and Simon's eyes roll to the back of his head as his eyes close and you look back down to his cock, so hard, swollen red and slippery with his pre-come.

You can hear his teeth grinding together, shoulders stiffening and tattooed forearm vascular with how tight he's squeezing his cock and he chokes out, "Please, Mistress. Let me come, let me come, I'm so close—god"

" Come for your Mistress, Simon. Be a good boy and come for me."

Simon moans loud as his back bows forward and he encircles your ankle with his hand to stabilize himself as his length spurts rope after rope of thick cum inches from your toes— continuously stroking himself through the aftershocks and into oversensitivity.

He puts both palms flat on the floor as he gulps in big shaky breaths, arms trembling slightly. You stand up, carefully stepping around his come, and slip into your heels. Simon raises his head to look at you and— look at that simple, empty expression. You want to sit on that face 'til he repeatedly taps your thick thigh, begging for air— and tell him to clean up his mess. You put on your jacket, close it with the belt and leave.

Your pocket vibrates with a text, and tap the screen to read the text.

Simon: I beg you, my Angel. Let me look at your beautiful pussy as I come, next time.

You: You know what to do.

And then a notification from your bank.

Simon Riley has deposited £4000.

Pressing your phone screen to your chin as hold in a squeal, you cannot wait to get your hands on him.

'Only ever for you.'

A/N: i'd give all the cod boys the gawk gawk without question. at the same time. and valeria can sit on my face til i stop breathing.

[defmaybe]

What would this kkura do to you?

The silk proving to be a thin and yet effective barrier, keeping you on the edge craving for her touch

Up close all in your personal space, the scent of her body lotion is mesmerizing. That tummy, those shoulder ,all within your reach but you're not allowed to touch or sometimes even look at them.

Her foot teasing your inner thighs, just to see your erection bulge uncontrollably

And that outline certainly isn't helping...

She's going to give you a reward in the end right? Riiiight??

I'm one lustful individual, Frisky, here's a quickie lmao

Midnight Blues

LE SSERAFIM's Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

1k words

It’s mostly your moans, really, as Sakura grins under the soft light from your television playing some fuckass Netflix rom-com, eyes focused on your torture. You can’t quite pinpoint where it started, but it’s like you’d care with her feet rubbing on your clothed thighs, anyway.

She hasn’t taken her shower yet, still in the midnight blue leather dress she wore for her stage today. White streaks of light are painted on it, and sweat can still be seen on her face. The smell of her rosy lotion and exhaustion permeate the room.

You shift on the couch, letting out a frustrated groan, “S–Sakura, please.”

“No, baby, I have a title. Say it and I’ll do it.”

Her soles contacting the clothed your sensitive area are trying to pull the words back inside your needy, slutty throat. “M–Mis–,” is what you can choke out.

“Mis–what, baby boy?” She asks in a sultry voice, the edge of her toes grazing your sacks, giving some expectations of what’s coming.

“Mistress.”

She lunges at your pajamas’ waistband, pulling it off to reveal your raging erection in a swift motion.

“Hard already?” Sakura chuckles, before sinking back onto the leather couch. It cries as it rubs against her suit.

“Y–Yes, mistress–ngh!” She grabs your cock with her bare soles. She strokes you while being careful of her long nails.

The room is filled with your slutty moans under the ministration Sakura is giving you. It has always been her expertise, really. There was a high-speed incident where it left you with your semen on the dashboard—to which she tastefully cleaned it up. Or the other time in the first class, where you had to suppress your moans to avoid waking up the other fellow passengers. Good thing she had her mouth on your cock by the time it spills your essence.

“M–Mistress, you’re s–so good at this,” you whine, hands gripping the poor fabric of your sofa.

“Thank you, baby,” she responds with a giggle, biting her finger while doing so. Fuck, if the footjob isn’t so damn good, you’d have leap onto her right now. 

She ups the ante, rubbing your erection even quicker. And you can only moan out her name, “Mistress S–Sakura~,” as her heavenly dexterity continues to send electricity through you.

Again, she giggles at your pleasure. Her grip remains soft but tight on your length, at a moderato tempo. “Want me to go even faster, baby boy?”

“Y–Yes, mistress,” you reply in a haste.

She complies with your plea by speeding up her feet on your cock. Each stroke remains careful, yet so unrelenting at making you cum just for her, spreading your seed everywhere (but mostly, she prefers it inside her warm, welcoming mouth; she says that she loves your taste.)

“S–Sakura,” you say, trying to deliver something.

“Hey, my title, baby, remember?” Her voice laces with playful aggression, lower than it should be.

“No, I–I’m just gonna say t–that I love you, babe.” 

And Sakura beams at your words.

“Aww, that’s so sweet baby, I love you too. Still,—” she moves in her seat just a little, trying to accommodate the pace she’s giving on your digit. “—you’ll have to cum for me, so let’s do this, alright, baby?”

You gaze back at her busy feet, seeing her rubbing your cock like that just sends shivers through you, doesn’t it? “Y–Yes, Sakura.”

The tempo is fast; it’s enough to make a sound louder than whatever the characters in your television are moaning right now. You can feel your impending climax from afar. It’s there, it’s there.

Sakura is probably feeling your orgasm coming with the tensed thighs, “Gonna cum, baby?”

“I–I think I–I’m close, mistress.”

“Wanna see more of me before you’re there, baby? Consider this a small gift,” she asks, hands seeming to toy with the zipper at the back. “Well, it’s not small, really.”

You let out a small laugh with the moan as you sheepishly nod at her proposal.

“Alright, baby.” She then unzips her leather top, still putting an effort into rubbing your raging cock. She slowly peels it off, revealing more bare, porcelain skin of hers at each second—neck, collarbones, cleavage. And then there’s the main course—her supple chest that you’ve always loved. Fuck, she even wears nothing underneath her sheer top. They look so smooth, so mouthwatering. Her brown, salivating nipples sitting atop of them is the best part of it, really.

And as it comes undone, she tosses the garment away, giving you the view of her bouncing, delicate breasts at each stroke.

“M–Mistress,” you involuntarily utter.

“Well, I don’t mind you staring, baby.” She laughs.

And with a few more strokes, you can feel it—the impending climax. It builds up inside your lower stomach. It seeps within your body like a plague—one that you’d let it destroy you.

“I’m gonna cum, mistress,” you mutter.

She smiles, before lifting off her seat, sinking to her knees in front of you. And within a whim, she easily swallows your cock, eyes focused on the target. You can do fucking nothing but moan.

“Yes, baby, moan for me,” Sakura says with your length being inside her cavern. “Cum for me.”

It’s almost there. Your thighs tense up, your grip on the couch has never been tighter, so is the tightness of her mouth. Her cheeks are hollowing just for you, creating such empyrean suction none can compare. She bobs her head up and down to push you to it—the orgasm you’ve always wanted.

“S–Sakura,” you utter, before giving in to your orgasm.

You spill loads and loads inside her wanting mouth as her eyes roll upwards to meet yours—so lost in the throes of pleasure. Your hips rock at each spurt, making your flesh hitting the depths inside her cavern. She silently yelps at each hit, jaws locked by your slutty cock.

It slowly dissipates, and you’re panting along with the descent. She laughs with your cock still stuffed within her mouth, before slowly, agonizingly, pulling herself out of it. You groan at the drag.

“Hmm, tastes good as always, baby.” She pulls her tongue out—all clean, unstained. She fucking swallowed it all.

“I always taste good, babe.”

Sakura stands up, smiling. “Wanna cuddle?”

“Definitely… maybe, after round two.”

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Five

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This was my first attempt at smut (I giggled posting this, I am so excited!). I am new, but any advice is welcome! I tried something different with formatting (you'll see when you get there). I didn't want anything to be spoiled while ya'll rode the emotional rollercoaster that is this chapter. Let me know if it was weird and didn't work (or if it did that would be great!). I also added a link to the music found in a later part of this chapter in case you wanted to listen while you read.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Five - Night's Mistress

Content Warning: Blood, Blood Play, Murder, Choking, Graphic Sexual Scenes Involving Violence, Smut, MINORS DNI! (let me know if I missed anything else!)

The pull behind your navel felt foreign. 

It didn’t come with the taste of honey or the scent of daffodils like Rosie’s summons normally did. It didn’t come with a hint of sass or flood your mouth with spice like Carmilla’s. Crimson’s tasted of red pepper flakes and copper - a disgusting combination - but he was no longer an issue. 

This pull, however, was new and terribly, terribly… boring. 

Has one of your cards fallen to a rogue with sticky fingers? Has one of your holders died and a new holder taken their place? 

Whomever it was, the pull made you pause atop your perch overlooking V Tower. With Vox’s new Angelic Security soon to be released, you didn’t know how close you could get to the media demon’s headquarters. So you sat a few buildings away, scanning the horizon for any newfound technology that might impede your nighttime endeavors. 

There was another tug. 

Jesus, impatient much? 

You stood, stretching the stiffness from your legs. It was late, you’ve been out here for hours watching absolutely nothing happen. All the Vees like to do is sit, drink, and talk shit. Seriously what did they get out of their friendship? Was it friendship? Or were they all fucking? Ugh, you did not want that picture in your head.

Okay, time to go. 

You jumped, allowing the smoke to envelop your form. Feeling the pull, you headed toward the inner part of the city. Circling Heaven’s Clocktower, you broke off back toward the Magne District - the district that held the Hotel. Except you weren’t headed for your new home. The pull brought you left, almost to the border town but not quite, to an old tower.

In a plume of smoke, you landed on a balcony, the black swirls twirling about the landing before pooling over the sides. You were probably twenty stories up, the tallest building around. Not nearly as tall as V Tower - which the balcony gave you a great view of - but still, Pentagram City was striking. 

The balcony was connected to an apartment, reachable to the world only by an elevator at its center. Behind you was a wall of glass, heavy curtains preventing you from peering inside. On the balcony sat a small table, framed by two iron chairs. The setup was empty, except for your card which sat atop the table, a single drop of blood at its center. 

You took a step, your feet finding a puddle of red before you finally noticed the body. It was face down, scarlett flooding from a wound which wasn’t visible to you. It didn’t appear to be anyone you knew. Definitely a Human Sinner, but not one particularly interesting. 

So who in Hell summoned you? 

As if on cue, a zip of static runs across the back of your neck. 

Of-fucking-course…

“Ah, there you are,” Alastor emerges from the darkened apartment, shutting the door behind him with a kick of his heel, a smooth jazz playing on his radio.

Your heart skips a beat as his eyes find yours. Half-lidded, he smirks, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pair of glasses in another. 

Your eyes flit between the dead Sinner on the floor and the red demon before you. “You did not use your own blood?" This was a first. Cardholders always used their own blood. Although not directly stated, it was implied. 

“Heavens, no!” The demon places the glasses on the table, next to the obsidian calling card, as he uncorks the bottle using the tip of his claw. “We barely know each other. That would be too…” His eyes slid to yours. You feel his gaze rake over your form eliciting a blush beneath your cloak. “Intimate.” 

Jesus. 

You stifle a sharp intake of breath. 

Get your shit together. You’re a fucking Overlord for Christ’s sake. 

You drop his gaze, eyeing the half-dead pile of blood beneath your feet. 

“Ah, apologies for the mess,” Alastor snaps and the Sinner, along with the blood, disappears. “Wine?” The red demon holds a glass out to you, liquid sloshing in its basin. 

You look at your boots before moving, noticing he even wiped the blood from their leather. How thoughtful. 

Goblet in hand, you finally join the Radio Demon in the chair adjacent to his, and gaze out to the City. 

It was quiet, the hustle of Pentagram City’s nightlife drowned out by his jazz. Funny, you thought it almost peaceful. Could Hell be peaceful? No. That would be an oxymoron. Hell was designed not to be peaceful by definition. Yet all the way up here, tucked far back from the rest of the chaos, you could pretend it was. 

The demon sits back in his chair, crossing his legs at his knees. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his shoes have a print on the bottom - a deer’s hoof. How fitting. 

The obsidian calling card sits between you, a drop of scarlet crusting on its surface. Letters in white slowly fade from the card’s edge, signifying the death of the card owner. Whoever the Hell Stanley Jenkins was, Alastor had killed him and used his blood instead. Smart actually, for the card comes with its own parameters…

And to the Sinners without a card? That was a bit trickier. Only a handful of obsidian calling cards were in circulation, and only cardholders could summon you at will. To the lower rung demons without the honor, they had to go through back channels. That’s what you used Rosie for. The Cannibal Queen knew all the best gossip in town, her network of information reached every edge of the Pentagram. She was your starting point for potential hits - you took care of the rest. 

“A toast,” Alastor holds his glass out to you. “To power and chaos.” 

You freeze.

The demon clinks his glass with yours.

You had not heard that phrase in a very long time. 

You look to the Radio Demon and watch as he sips his wine, the red liquid kissing his lips as he drinks.  

More importantly, where had he heard that phrase? 

And then it clicks. 

Lilith. You last heard that from Lilith. 

“It isn’t poisoned. I assure you,” Alastor purrs, bringing your thoughts back to the wine. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.” The demon chuckles.

You shudder at the sudden static vibrating through your bones. 

You put a pin in this conversation - a mental note. You had more homework to do. 

You swirl the red around the glass, noting the alcohol crystals sticking to the sides. It was an older wine, a heavier red by the color. The liquid wooed you in scents of dark berry, cloves, and cedar. You could taste the tannins on your tongue before the liquid even hit your teeth. God, was it a thick red, so dry it left your mouth parched for more. Alastor couldn’t see your face beneath the hood, but if he could, he would see the moan you stifled behind closed lips. 

God, it was almost Heavenly. 

“One of my more everyday favorites,” Alastor smiled at the world below, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of City lights. “Although, I have far better in my cellar.” 

In my cellar. Your ears perked up at that, although you tried to hide it, the twitch of Alastor’s lips told you he had noticed. The Radio Demon knew something about you now: you liked wine. 

Was that what this meeting was all about? He wanted to gather more information on the Shadow? The way he made it seem at Carmilla’s was that there was a deal to be made. He thought you two could benefit from some sort of… partnership. Yet, you sit here and drink. 

This wasn’t how your deals often went. Usually, you showed up, and Sinners demanded action straight away. They practically begged you for your help, all too eager to make a deal. Lesser demons were pathetic, demons thinking themselves anything more attempted to look strong or intimidating, but the second they saw your eyes, they cowered. You’d like to think it the same as Zestial’s situation but you didn’t dare compare yourself to someone as great as him. 

Alastor, however, sat before you as an entertainer, a flatterer, a narcissist obsessed with his image. He didn’t just want to make a deal with you - if he did at all - he wanted to put on a show. Offering you a drink and a lovely view of the City communicated to you that he didn’t see you as a threat, but you already knew that. The question then was, did he respect you, and why did it bother you so much not to know? 

You turned the bottle to read the label: Stag’s Leap. How fitting. 

“Have you read the Allegory of the Cave*?” Alastor posits. 

You nod. Of course, who hasn’t read Plato? 

“When the man leaves the cave and makes it to the surface and is finally disenchanted with the shadows below, why do you suppose he returns?” Alastor takes another sip, waiting for you to answer, because he genuinely cares as to what you have to say. 

“To free the two he left behind,” your voice growls. 

“Hmm,” he ponders. “I supposed that as well, but never understood. To have the power of knowledge and to then share it… To not take advantage when it benefited him so. I see it as a tragedy.”

“Perhaps it is the Humanity in all of us.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed. “And if there is no Humanity left?” 

“Return…” Your lips curled, “and kill the other two.” 

Alastor tipped his head back and laughed, a deep chuckle from his chest. No laugh track followed. Was that genuine? A real laugh from Alastor and not the façade of the Radio Demon. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest at the thought. 

Focus! 

“Alastor, why have you summoned me?” 

The Radio Demon’s lips faltered ever so slightly, his cheery attitude hardening. He thought a long moment before answering. “It seems we have found ourselves in quite the predicament.” He places the glass on the table and folds his fingers in his lap, his attention on the City below. Your eyes follow his, all the way to V Tower. 

Ah, yes Velvette and Vox. 

“Velvette can be quite the troublemaker.” 

“And Vox can be quite the thorn.” You counter, taking another sip. 

God, the wine was so good. 

“I have… information worth your while.” His teeth shined. 

“And in return?” 

“A quid-pro-quo. I have been gone a long time, but my relationships with those I am… close with have held strong. That is the perk of being as old as I am. I am tried and true. You are new blood, officially worth a seat at the table. That seat will be tested.” There was an edge to his words now. “Do not take Velvette’s silence for inaction.”

You did not. 

Yet, what could Alastor know that you have not yet uncovered yourself? After all, you have been watching them these past few days. Surely something would have come up by now. 

You scoffed, finding the underlying meaning in his words. “Is that what happened with Vox?” 

The Radio Demon stiffened. There it was, a hint of that barely contained anger. Oh, how you would love to see it unleashed.

You sniffed, searching for the scent of rage, of jasmine green tea - the main reason why you loved the drink. Yet there was nothing. Irritation prickled your skin. You have never been able to not read someone before. What made this Sinner so special? 

“That is what you want from this… partnership, is it not?” You prod, hoping he will give away something, anything that might clue you in as to why you are here. 

The demon returned to his wine, a muscle in his jaw flickering with agitation. He didn’t like appearing weak. 

Narcissist. 

“The plans I have in mind are far bigger than that poor excuse for an entertainment system.” 

You snorted. 

Alastor’s strained smile softened. 

Hmm, a quid-pro-quo, huh? Still, he hasn’t said what he wants out of this deal. 

You took another sip to think, noting your glass was already empty. 

The Radio Demon cleared his throat, wine bottle in hand, gesturing for your cup. His fingers brushed yours as you handed him the glass, sending a wave of static through to your core. You pulled back too fast, bringing your arm to your chest. The demon’s eyes gleamed in amusement. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You are not afraid of the Radio Demon, so why were you acting like an idiot? Never let your weaknesses show and you just gave him a clear indication that he intimidated you. You are a FUCKING OVERLORD. 

Why was this not easier with a mask on??? At the Hotel, you didn’t back down, but still, you let him think less of you. Not here. Here you are the fucking Shadow, you didn’t have to pretend. You had no reason to be so nervous. 

So why was the smile on his face and the look in his half-lidded eyes making your heart do backflips in your chest? Why was it when he handed the glass back you were conscious to not let your fingers touch his? Why were you so grateful for the space between you two yet also so, so irritated by it? 

“You still have not told me what you seek to gain.” You prayed your voice didn't sound as unnerved as you felt. 

His smile went cockeyed. “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.” 

That didn’t sound like a partnership. That sounded like an alliance. Is this the same type of deal he had with Rosie? Interestingly, they seemed more like friends than something so surface-level as an alliance. Perhaps it started out that way and blossomed into one? 

The butterflies in your stomach kicked up in a flurry. The Radio Demon thought you were worth his time. Your cheeks heated. He thought you could help him - in some sort of capacity. God, why did that make you wanna squeal like a small child? 

“I will not be signing a contract,” you warned. 

Rosie informed you of Alastor’s contract crafting abilities. The demon was meticulous, bordering on obsessive when it came to exacting details. Line-by-line he would work and when it was finally done, the deal would appear flattering in what it would have to offer. Somehow, Alastor always made it seem like it was you who was the one to benefit. Yet, that was never the case. It was a trap, a beautifully disguised ploy which demoted you to a creature privy to his whim. Alastor was a master and the signee his pet - he would have it no other way. 

You’d die before you signed anything he authored. 

The demon laughed. Yet, underneath, there was a hint of irritation. “Oh, no. I did not expect that, I assure you. Ours will be one of a verbal agreement.” 

You let that marinate. He won’t be getting your name, but an agreement will still be made, and in Hell, that was a very powerful thing indeed. You’ve made plenty of verbal agreements before. Fuck, every hit you contracted was a verbal agreement - silence and the contractee’s soul in exchange for murder. The terms you set were quite simple, actually, yet strong enough to have kept any hint, any suspicion of who you are and how to find you, out of the mouths of Pentagram City’s most powerful. Yes, the media did try to track you down, even attempted to hunt you at one point, but they haven’t gotten very far. And they never will if you had anything to do with it…

You took a sip, letting the flavors melt off your tongue one final time, before standing and offering a hand. 

The demon’s eyes lit up with a crimson fire, his lips curling at the edges. He looked far too eager for this deal and that made you hesitate. 

Dealing with Alastor was like dancing - a dance you both pretended not to be leading but also refused to be the follower in. It was a game of power, you see. Yes, dancing had its steps and rules - a waltz is a waltz after all - but the direction it was going, the added flare to the spins, the story the choreography told - that was where you battled. Thus, you needed to be a half-step ahead of Alastor at all times - without him knowing, of course - until either the dance ended or you found a way to end him. 

The Radio Demon took your hand, and as you gazed into his eyes, you watched his pupils dilate. The glow of your yellow irises reflected in their dark center, an aura of red encircling your hooded form. A river of blue and green exploded from where your hands touched, twirling about you like the eye of a beautifully destructive hurricane.

The wind whipped Alastor’s hair about his face, his smile never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours as a connection snapped between the two of you. Like a thin string bridging your souls, you could, for a moment, feel Alastor on the other end, feel his static radiating from his core before the connection faded entirely.  

It was done. 

“A pleasure,” he purred. 

You attempted to step back and break away from his grasp, but the demon responded by clamping down and pulling you to him. You stumbled, your other hand coming to his chest to prevent your fall. The hood atop your head shifted back ever so slightly, but not enough to reveal your face or to give away anything underneath. 

The shadows engulfing your feet twirled and twirled about you, yet you remained frozen. Alastor was a solid wall of muscle beneath his suit; even with gloves on, you could feel the marble from which his chest was sculpted. You took a breath before you pulled your hand away before your brain finally caught up with the rest of you.

“Beautiful,” Alastor’s voice deepened. 

You dared a glance from beneath your hood and found the demon’s eyes locked on the silver embroidery of your cloak. With his other hand, he ghosted over the trim, his fingers tracing the hard edges of the stitching. Yet, at no point did he actually touch the black fabric. If he did, his fingers would phase through it, just as Velvette’s had at the meeting. 

Without saying anything, he dropped the grip on your fist, freeing you from his clutches. You stumbled backward, grasping your hood and pulling it forward to ensure it stayed in place. Alastor couldn’t remove it, but that little stunt he pulled almost ruined everything you had worked for. 

Your body grew cold as you backtracked to the railing, your little meeting coming to an end. You watched as Alastor’s grin turned into a lopsided smirk as he shoved his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly watching you flee.

Your instincts were screaming again, but this time, they were telling you not to let the demon out of your sight. 

Passing by the table, you noted the obsidian calling card. He would use it to summon you from here on out, but he would never be using his own blood. His real name would be made to you then, and he would never risk that. 

Take advantage of the power given, was what he recollected from Plato, and use it to slaughter others. 

“Velvette is using a third party to buy weapons from Carmilla Carmine,” the demon finally spoke, breaking the tension. He turned to the skyline, absentmindedly analyzing V Tower as he talked. “The female Vee, however, is not the fighter of the group, she leaves that to Vox and Valentino. Velvette destroys by reputation. She is not much to fear if armed, but if privy to certain information, she will use that to destroy her enemies.”

A.K.A do not let her find out who you are. 

You paused as your back hit the railing. You let your shadows build beneath your feet before you jumped in order to conceal your form as you flew. “Vox’s Angelic Security is in place but not online. It expands two blocks from V Tower. If anyone were to make a move, he would see it coming.” 

The Radio Demon nods. He pauses a moment before adding, “Carmilla killed the Angel.” 

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. How the Hell did he know that? 

“Carmilla is monitoring the Vees,” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you grabbed hold of the railing. “She doesn’t want them making a move against Heaven.” You needed to get away. This meeting was getting dangerous. Losing your cool and almost losing your hood in the span of minutes? You were never this sloppy. Alastor made you sloppy. 

“Interesting,” his voice stopped you again. 

You spun, raising an eyebrow in question. His lopsided smirk only grew. “You didn’t ask me how Carmilla killed the Angel.” 

Fuck. He knew. He knew you already knew. He didn’t have to look at you to see the surprise in your eyes, he had figured it out by your response alone. 

“Goodnight, Alastor,” you gave a shallow head bow before jumping off into the night, Alastor’s fucking grin following you into the sky. 

____________________________________________

It was late when you returned. You took a few extra spins about Pentagram City before heading back, trying to collect your thoughts on everything that had just happened. 

You had surmised two important things: One, Alastor’s absence wasn’t just about Lilith. The demon somehow knew Lilith. Perhaps it was because of her that he left in the first place. Which you already somewhat suspected, but this confirmed it. Two, Alastor wanted the Vees dealt with, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. 

A quid-pro-quo in taking out the Vees. Now, things were getting interesting. This didn’t derail your plans, however, little Ms. Morningstar was still heading in the direction you needed her to go for everything to work. You didn’t need the Vees for the endgame - you had other powers in your back pocket with far more influence than the three of them. Plus, the connections you were making at the Hotel were going swimmingly. Soon, not yet, but soon, you’d implement the next phase. 

Oh, if only Father could see you now - wherever the Hell he was. Did he fall to Hell or was he somehow topside? No. You’d know if he was down here with you. You’d feel it in your bones. Wherever he ended up, you were going to find him and you were going to make him suffer for everything he put you through. 

You weren’t just going to kill him - oh, no. He didn’t deserve a quick and clean death. It was going to be slow and torturous. You were going to make him feel every ounce of the pain he put you through and more. You’d take your time, after all; why rush? Hours, days, months, years; what use was putting a timeline to his punishment when it would never make up for what he did? No. You’d take your time pushing him to the edge, and when he was on the cusp of eternal darkness, you’d heal him and start all over again.   

Perhaps you did have a flair for murder like the Radio Demon. Your creative outlets were just significantly more specific - lying in wait for the perfect muse. 

Wrapping your fingers around the edge of the window pane, you quietly slipped inside. With a snap, your leather gear and cloak slipped into the Void, replaced with a silk pajama set: a tank top and shorts bordering on just too short. Scandalous, but you enjoyed burying yourself beneath layers of blankets while you slept. Any more clothing and you’d wake up sweating. 

Going for the bathroom, you turned on the light and paused. In the reflection of your mirror, you saw it: a red box wrapped in black ribbon. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Someone had been in your room. 

Hesitantly, you made your way before the coffee table and found a card perched atop the neatly wrapped bow. 

You leaned in and sniffed the package - Nifty. You were going to have to touch base with the Hotel cleaning lady after breakfast. From day one, you had made it quite clear - to her great disappointment - not to clean your room, let alone enter it. Perhaps you weren’t clear enough, for she felt it acceptable to leave this here as opposed to outside your door.

Doing a circle about the space, you inspected the sealing runes which kept certain individuals out, eyeing the shadows just in case. You had hidden the ancient magic in concealed places, even buying a rug to cover the one at the base of your door, and kept your most important things in your Void. It wasn’t the best place to store your leather and cloak - especially after the moth infestation a few years back - but it was a necessity at the moment. 

Then you went for the present. Pulling the black ribbon atop, you jumped back as the box split into fours, revealing a small radio. It was of a classic design and cathedral in shape, carved from mahogany and detailed in yellow and red. The device was simple, with only two buttons: an on-and-off switch and a volume dial. No tuning dial to change the channel? No chord to plug it in?

Fuck. How did he know? You racked your brain trying to figure out when and to whom you talked to regarding your sleepless nights. Rosie knew, but you hadn’t specifically discussed it with her lately. Did you say something to Husk in passing? To Angel while you were bitching at breakfast? 

Hesitantly, you turned on the device. A pleasant, smooth jazz echoed through the speaker: Paul Whiteman’s “Sleepy Time Down South.” Hilarious… The Radio Demon has a sense of humor. At least it wasn’t the screams of blood-curdling murder. 

After inspecting the radio three times over, you deemed it not a threat - although you kept it far away from your bed as you crawled beneath the sheets. With a snap of your fingers, the bathroom light turned off, plunging you into a cocoon of darkness, enveloped by the lullaby of sweet jazz…

____________________________________________

At some point in the night, you awoke, your mouth parched and throat dry.  

🎶 It’s not the pale moon that excites me 🎶

Alastor’s radio switches over to a new song, the music seeming to follow you as you make your way to the kitchen. The hallways were silent, the Hotel Natives snoozing away in the late hours of the night. 

🎶 That thrills and delights me 🎶

You pass by the library as a zip of static runs its way down your spine, stopping you in your tracks. Alastor stood before the fireplace, flames roaring in its hearth, casting an eerie glow throughout the room. The demon faces the fire, his attention on the crackle of the logs as they whittled away into ash. He was still dressed in his three piece suit you saw him in only hours ago, his ears pressed flat against his head in irritation. Something was bothering him. 

🎶 Oh, no. It’s just the nearness of you 🎶

He pretended not to notice you standing there staring at him from the hallway, but his shadow didn't. It zipped around your feet, twirling about your ankles in greeting, before practically dragging you inside the room. And when it had you well within the confines of the space, it flew to the doors.

🎶 It isn’t your sweet conversation 🎶

The shadow slammed them shut. CLICK! Then locked them. 

You were trapped. 

🎶 That brings this sensation 🎶

Alastor tilts his head over his shoulder, his half-lidded eyes landing on you. The demon looked royally pissed. 

This was it, this was the moment.

Alastor had figured out who you are. Your hood had fallen farther than you thought and he had seen your face and put the pieces together. He knew you were the Shadow, the mysterious new Overlord, here to challenge his grab for Princess Morningstar’s power. 

And he was going to kill you for it. 

🎶 Oh, no. It’s just the nearness of you 🎶

You didn’t hesitate to summon your blue flames, preparing for a fight, yet he moved faster than your mind could comprehend. Between one blink and the next, Alastor appears before you, his hand wrapping around your throat so tight you choke on the lack of air. Grasping at his arm, you dig your claws into his skin, your demon form summoning, as you melt the red fabric with your flame. But he is unphased by the heat, pulling back and slamming you so hard into the wall that spiderwebs crack across the plaster. 

🎶 When you’re in my arms 🎶

You try to summon more flame to burn him down to the very core of his soul like you had done to thousands of Sinners before, but the blue fire does nothing to his skin. It singes the red fabric, turning it black, but his skin beneath is unharmed. 

Shit.

🎶 And I feel you so close to me 🎶

The demon leans in, a low growl emanating from his chest, his teeth glinting in the firelight as his eyes hone in on your neck. As the blood pumped through your jugular, you watched his pupils dilate and fixate on the vein. He was a Cannibal, a predator, a killer whittled down to pure instinct. Everything within him was screaming kill, kill, kill.

🎶 All my wildest dreams came true…🎶

Your lungs screamed as you choked out, “Alastor.” It was weak, barely a whisper, but it was enough to draw his gaze from your neck to your eyes. In his pupils, you saw yourself desperate and bordering on losing yourself to the darkness threatening to close in. Despite the fight you felt in your bones you looked terrified.

🎶 I need no soft lights to enchant me 🎶

His name slipping from your mouth, the quiver he saw in your lips, had cracked something within him.

🎶 If you would only grant me 🎶

His grip disappeared, allowing you a breath of air. 

🎶 The right to hold you ever so tight 🎶

You bent over, coughing onto the floor, sucking down breaths in gasps that make your eyes water. 

🎶And to feel in the night🎶

Standing, you held onto the broken wall, forcing yourself to stay on your feet, despite your knees threatening to collapse beneath you.

“Alastor, what the fuck…” And before you had a chance to finish your question, the demon wraps his claws around your chin and forcefully slams his lips into yours. 

🎶The nearness of you🎶

The kiss was anything but soft, anything but patient. The demon was hungry and starving, and only you could satiate his appetite.

His other hand presses your hip back against the wall as he kicks your legs apart, drawing a gasp from your lips. Alastor takes the opportunity to run his tongue across your bottom lip before snaking it into your mouth. His tongue finds yours, prodding, testing, tasting.  

He pushes you flush against the wall, his knee pressing higher and higher until it finds the pocket between your thighs, eliciting a gasp that turns into a moan as he pulls you onto him, forcing your clit in line with his leg. 

The demon smiles against your lips, finally releasing your chin to grab your waist, his fingers bunching in the thin material of your pajama bottoms. You take the opportunity to find the lapels of his jacket to give you something to grab onto as you arch into him, pulling him closer as you press your breasts into his chest. The demon growls, a deep rumble emanating from within as he bites down on your bottom lip. 

Copper floods your mouth, turning the kiss sweet, but for Alastor, it’s a frenzy. He was no longer satisfied with just tasting you. He had to devour you.  

The silky material of your pajamas was oh-so thin. No underwear or bra beneath them, you were practically naked as the tips of his claws sank into the meat of your hips, beads of red pebbling on your skin. 

God and the pain only added to the pleasure building between your legs, only made your head swim as his lips slid over yours, capturing every drop of scarlet flooding your mouth. 

The demon helps guide your hips as you ground your clit into his thigh, wetness seeping into the silky material before pooling onto his pants. The room flooded with the scent of warm vanilla.

This man had you soaked, had your lips dripping as you ground into him faster and faster, your pleasure building with each roll. Alastor finally released your mouth, his teeth finding your neck, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he teased. He ran his tongue along the dip of your collarbone, tracing it to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, before finally running it up to your ear.

You moaned when he took your lobe into his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth. Alastor instinctively rolled his hips, his cock tenting his pants, grinding on nothing but air. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. The friction wasn’t enough. You needed more. Needed more of him to push yourself over the edge. 

“Al…” You breathed into his ear between moans, your fingers trailing down to the twitch in his pants, but stopping when you hit his belt. “Please…” You tugged.

The demon laughed, capturing your groans with his mouth before answering, “No.” 

You blinked. “No?”

The demon puts a hard stop to your hips, pausing your grinding and the build in your pleasure. He grabs your hand on his belt and captures two of your fingers in his mouth. Sucking with his lips, he circles your fingertips with his tongue, wetting them before guiding your hand back down to your clit. 

“I want to watch,” he smiles against your cheek before he wraps a finger under your chin and brings your face up to his. “Fuck yourself,” he commands. 

And you obeyed.   

Your two fingers find the apex of your pleasure beneath your shorts, and you moan, wetting your clit with his spit as you circle the bud.

You barely have to touch yourself, you’re already so close. 

Alastor does nothing to help, save for his gaze, save for his breath which matched yours. The demon’s eyes glittered with heat and desire as they bore into you. He could feel the pleasure radiating off of you, could feel it as real as you could feel his static on the other side of the bond you formed today. 

“Good girl,” he growled, his cock twitching in his pants with each moan that escaped your lips. 

“I’m close,” you whined, twirling your fingers faster and faster, feeling the pressure build between your legs. 

Alastor dug his claws into your skin, his gaze soaking up every look of pleasure on your face, his ears absorbing every moan, his cock hardening with every swipe of your fingers against yourself.

“Cum for me, darling.” The demon’s lips curled as he swiped the hair from your eyes, sticky with sweat. He wanted to watch as you sent yourself over the edge. He wanted to miss nothing.

And just as you reached your climax...

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...you wake up in bed, your screams of pleasure drawing you from sleep. 

Your orgasm spasmed through your body, your legs twitching as you rode the wave, your pussy clenching on nothing but air…

Fuck, it was the best orgasm you had ever had, nevermind that it was your first.

And when it was over and your mind sobered, you realized it was all a dream.

You never woke up for a glass of water.

You never found Alastor in the library. 

Grabbing a pillow, you launched it at the radio on the coffee table but missed by a mile. Burying your face in the sheets, you screamed. You screamed until your lungs burned because anything was better than acknowledging the truth.

Anything was better than acknowledging that you just had your very first wet dream, and it was of Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Muahahahaha! Remember it's a slow burn ;)

-> Chapter Six

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

*Plato's Allegory of the Cave

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff

[lovebugism]

Halloween is not really a big thing in my country so our october is as lame as every other month 😭

What do you think about sunshine/ditzy!reader planning her all on pink Halloween costume and eddie trying to convince her to go as something from one of his fav horror movies, or something silly like as a gremlin.

I love everything you write so I'll be happy with anything really

ily <333

ty angel! hope you like it! — eddie and his ditzy gf have trouble deciding on matching costumes (established relationship, fluff, ditzy!reader, can be read as a modern!au, 0.8k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

“You don’t like my costume?” you wonder, all pouty in your pretty pink leotard and biker short duo. 

You’ve mastered the Barbie look — at least from what Eddie can remember. You’re only missing the neon rollerblades and matching yellow kneepads. You’re the prettiest, most vibrantly colored ball of sunshine he’s ever seen in his life.

“I love your costume, babe, don’t get me wrong…” Eddie assures as he rises from the couch, flashing you a rosy grin as he shakes his head. “But I am not wearing tights.”

Your pout deepens at his refusal to match with you. He was the Ken to your Barbie, after all — even if he wears so much black he basically absorbs all the light in any given room. “But why?” you ask in an unabashed whine.

“‘Cause if I knew I’d be wearing biker shorts for Halloween, I would’ve started doing squats three months ago.”

“But you’d make such a nice Ken!”

Eddie’s chocolate eyes narrow. “Do I look like Ken to you?”

“Well… No,” you answer, faltering only slightly when your gaze darts across the pale features of your wild-haired, metalhead boyfriend. “But it’s not like I look like Elvira!”

Eddie’s face twists like he’s tasted something sour, he’s that offended by your words.

His matching costume idea was the total opposite of your bright pink and sporty one. He wanted you to be a beautiful, shadowy thing hanging on his side in all black — the Mistress of the Dark to his Prince of Darkness. He still gets a little giddy thinking about it.

“Are you serious?” Eddie scoffs, playfully insulted and loud with it. His voice booms across the trailer as he takes you in his arms, curling his calloused fingers around your elbows. “You’re a total smoke show, babe— you’re killer. That’s, like, the only prerequisite.”

You roll your eyes at his compliment, though it has you blushing something fierce. 

Self-loathing was always hard with Eddie around ‘cause he thinks you’re the prettiest thing that’s ever walked the Earth. You’re not quite as certain as he is about it, but he says it with so much confidence that it’s hard to disagree.

“I do have a great set of boobs…” you lilt quietly, eyes flitted to the ceiling as you imagine yourself as the bombshell from Eddie’s favorite movie.

Your quoting of the film, along with your subtle reconsideration, has him grinning. “Yes, you do,” he affirms with a rapid and boyish nod. 

His gaze falls to your breasts, squeezed tight by the spandex fabric clinging to you like it was made to do it. His face heats with embarrassment when he notices he’s all but ogling at you. Then he realizes he doesn’t have to be embarrassed because you’re his girlfriend. It’s his job to ogle at you. It’s fucking metal.

“And an incredible pair of legs…”

“Exactly.”

“…But I still wanna be Barbie.”

Eddie’s grin never wavers. “Figured.”

“But you don’t have to be Ken if you don’t want!” you affirm quickly, eyes as wide as your glittering smile. “You can still be that weird, freaky singer guy that bit the head off that bat that one time.”

“Ozzy Osbourne,” he corrects.

“Yeah! We can just compromise. Easy peasy.”

Eddie deflates with a dramatic huff. His features twist in a puppy-like pout as he pulls you closer to him. “But you know I hate not getting my way,” he whines, mostly playful.

“I know,” you hum with a sympathetic smile. You gravitate towards him without thinking twice, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you press your chest to his. “But it makes sense, right? I’ve always been like Barbie, and you always liked me anyway… Right?”

He hates that you’re even asking — like he hasn’t been head over heels for you and stumbling all over himself since the day he met you. “I mean, obviously.”

“And you’ve always been a freak! And I’m, like, fucking obsessed with you—” you ramble, as bright as sunshine, until you realize the weight of your words. You grow abruptly serious. “No offense.”

He keeps on beaming like a lovesick idiot. “None taken.”

“And Halloween’s a cool way to represent that, right? Like, yeah, we’re different and we’re hot. Screw couples’ costumes!”

Eddie grows so suddenly fond. His chest warms and sparkles with it, like his dark eyes that melt for you. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“I know,” you shrug, still smiling. “I usually am.”

He grins wide before pressing a kiss to your smart mouth. It’s an innocuous peck — a meshing of plush lips and a lingering there. A quiet smack fills the tiny trailer when he parts from you just to pout, “You know I’m gonna have to walk behind you all night to keep people from staring at you, right?”

You giggle when his warm, calloused palms smooth over the outsides of your hips. “You do that anyway, Eds.”

“Well, yeah,” he responds, shrugging like it’s obvious. “‘Cause the view’s so nice.”

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 22 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: It's Maiden's Day. The Royal Conclave has officially begun with guests from all four corners of the Realm gathering into the Grand Hall for the first Ball of the season, where all the Maidens will be presented. Word Count: 5651 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Misogyny. Religious themes.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Maiden’s Day had begun shortly after the arrival of the King and Queen. The last three days were a flurry of last minute preparations. All the unwed ladies of the Realm were being prepared to don their white gowns, displaying their virtue on their sleeve, so they may all crowd inside the Great Sept atop of Visenya’s Hill and pay tribute to the Maiden. 

In the Celtigar apartments, bodies milled in and out of the room with tailors and seamstresses alike. Valeana already had a dress made for herself, which she had done moons ago for Maiden’s Day. Though, at the time, she believed it would have been celebrated at Claw Isle, like it was every year for the past decade. Her sisters were a different story; their dresses were commissioned prior to the funeral, and they were now rushed to adjust days before the event. In comparison, they were plainer than Valeana’s, who had the time to stitch out every detail, but they were still lovely and extravagant, as all Celtigar women were known for.

Floris’ was a shockingly pearl white gown with a modest boatneck neckline, and tight wrist length sleeves. The neck, arms, and hemline adorned with the same damask embroidery stitched into it, with small quartz crystals polished into teardrops dangling along her neckline. Her hair was pulled away from her face, parted down the middle, flowing down her back with only a single braid woven down the middle. Any stray hair would have been held back by her crescent white hood that had a white veil hiding her brown tresses. 

Shyla’s was an alabaster white, with a scoop neckline to accentuate her beautiful neck, and capped sleeves. She had more of an empire waistline, allowing the skirt to flow freely with its light tulle curtains. There was less detail in hers, but there were pearls woven into the skirt sporadically, like white stars on a canvas of clouds. Lastly, she wore lace gloves, a matching pearl choker with a ruby at the center, and unlike Floris, all her hair was piled up, topped with an albino peacock feather. 

With her extra free time, Valeana was able to put her full attention on the dress she had promised Queen Alicent she would make. She had already presented the queen days prior to her departure with sketches of her designs, and Alicent had only responded with requests for minor changes. She did not wish to be scandalous, but she did want to make a statement. The design she chose would be tedious, but Val enjoyed the challenge. Rosy, her ever loyal handmaiden, was always there to assist with her mistress’ work. She had helped many times in the past, which has aided Valeana greatly when it came to multiple gowns for multiple occasions… Which she would likely need these next couple of moons. 

She had a lot of work ahead of her, particularly her own gown for the Creature’s Ball. She had no ideas for herself, and that made it all the more difficult to start. Her hands moved along the soft fabrics that her mother had brought over from Claw Isle and bought in King’s Landing market places. All colours of the rainbow were presented before her, in various shades and saturations. From brilliant cobalt blues, to muted lavenders, to rose blush reds, to even unflattering palettes such as mustard yellow, mourning black, burlap sack brown, and salmon pink.

Maiden’s Day started painstakingly early as everyone got ready, aside from the men who did not need to don their formal attire until later, just before the ball. Valeana strapped in her more formal prosthetic, the one she affectionately called “Ser An-toe-knee Woodsby”, who had a wedged heel to accommodate the height of her wedged shoe. She always preferred this prosthetic over “Lady Footlyn”, it was more elegant, and walking in it felt more natural, but the caveat was that it wasn’t as worn in as she would have liked, and it would always have to be worn with a wedge shoe on her other foot. The increased height made it more difficult for her to stand for hours now that her right foot was made to bear the brunt of her weight on the balls of her feet. Still, she loved the way it made her hips sway side to side. 

Her large ivory gown was pulled over her head, and pooled at her feet with its scalloped hemline. Out of the three dresses, Valeana’s was the only one with colour. Maroon embroidered roses were designed in the grand width of the gown, standing tall on their stems like an award winning rose garden. The same pattern was centered on her bodice, the bud of the rose centered between the width of her breast, and the bottom of the stem ending at the ‘V’ shape at her waistline. Her biceps had the same design as well, although more subtle, taking the snug shape of her arm until it got to her elbow where it flared out in delicate lace. Then, as always in Celtigar fashion, pearls decorated the dress all over, accentuating lines to give it more texture. 

Valeana’s hair took the most amount of time. As long and thick as it was, it took two handmaids to tend to it. They pulled and pinned until it became a single large braid, the knots loosened elegantly, and decorated with sprigs of baby’s breath. Mother wanted it to be put up, but Valeana argued that the weight of her hair would cramp her neck. 

Wheelhouse after wheelhouse left the Red Keep that morning. When they reached Visenya’s Hill, it was crowded with carriages, horses, and women in white. Hundreds of maidens gathered into the Great Sept, leaving behind their mothers, their aunts, their fathers, and other guardians behind. 

Only maidens were allowed to fill the halls of the Great Sept that day. 

In silence, Valeana and her sisters entered the massive structure. It had been a decade since she last saw it and it never ceased to amaze her. The domed ceilings were so high that you could hear a whisper of a prayer from the other side of the Sept. Her eyes roamed around, looking at unfamiliar faces of women and girls alike. From girls as young as three, to spinster women as old as 60. If you were never married, and never laid with a man, you were here to worship and honour at the feet of the Maiden. 

She did not see Ellyn and Wylla in the crowd of white, and she ended up losing her sisters in the shuffle of the crowd. Not wanting to waste time on finding her people, she decided to take place in the first empty space she could. She immediately spotted one on a pew next to a young woman in a frost white gown, hair a beautiful red orange that was laid in waves down her back and plaited into a crown adorning her head. She was on the robust side, with rounded cheeks, a wide waistline, and soft arms. She reminded Valeana a lot of her former younger self, but admittedly this young girl was far more prettier, more vibrant. 

“Do you mind…?” Valeana asks the girl in a whisper. No one dared to raise their voices while the Septas filtered through the crowd with vulture-like awareness. Every once in a while, they would ring a bell when someone was being too loud. 

The girl looked up with surprised sapphire blue eyes, then she relaxed with a kind smile, “No, not at all.” 

Valeana settled in beside her, and took a look around to see if she could spot her sisters, or her two only friends, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Looking for someone?” The girl next to her asks. 

“Lost my sisters in the crowd,” she admitted. “Trying to spot my friends, but… with everyone wearing white, they all blend in together.”

The girl softly chuckled, then quickly covered her mouth, “Same thing happened to me, but with my cousins. I have no sisters, just too many brothers.” 

Valeana smiled in response, “Who are your cousins?”

“They are Lord Tyrell’s daughters,” she answered simply, then extended her hand. “My name is Lady Catelyn by the way. Catelyn Redwyne. But you can call me Cat, everyone does.” 

Valeana took it and they both shook gently, “Lady Valeana Celtigar.” 

The mention of her name caused the young girl’s brows to raise and her mouth to gape a bit, “You’re Valeana Celtigar?”

The octave of her voice was loud enough for a Septa to sharply bring a bell in their direction. The two girls looked over before hunching down and continuing their whispers. 

“Erm, yes. How do you know me?”

“Your name is spoken all over the pavilions,” Cat whispered in haste as she took a glance around to make sure no one was listening. “They say King Viserys’ two eldest sons are fighting over your hand.”

A deep blush stained her cheeks, “That isn’t… That’s not what is happening at all. Are people really talking about me? I haven’t even left the Keep since I arrived.”

Cat nodded eagerly, “It is all the ladies are talking about. That and your… uhm, many drunken exploits with men.”

“What!?”

The bell rang next to her ear, jostling her in her seat. When she turned around, a Septa was glaring at her with a twisted puckered face. Slowly Valeana turned back around. 

“It was one time,” she immediately corrected. “And I was in the company of women.”

“Well, whatever the truth of it is,” Cat started, a little smile at the corner of her lip, “You are creating quite a stir in the Realm. It has caused a divide between the ladies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the women wish to end you, and the other half wish to be you. Either way, all here are green with envy.”

“And which half are you, Lady Cat?”

She smiled sweetly, folding her arms on her lap demurely, “I am a fan of great romances, and therefore, a fan of you. It reminds me much of this novel I read whilst living in Highgarden. It is about a woman from the North forced to marry a Dornish prince, but fell in love with his brother. But she ended up falling for her betrothed too, after some time. It was quite riveting.” 

Valeana’s face was fully pink at this point, from outrage over this news, to flattery over Cat’s praise. At this odd book that sounded far too familiar for her liking. She cleared her throat, “And–and what happened… in the end?”

Catelyn sucked in her lips sheepishly, “Oh, I dare not say. Not here, not on Maiden’s Day.”

Valeana shot a look at the giant statue of the Maiden, whose feet they all circled. Then she looked back at the Redwyne girl, “Whisper it into my ear.”

Tentatively, Cat leaned over and cupped her hand over Valeana’s ear, “They both became her lovers. Often at the same time.” 

If it was possible, Valeana’s face went pinker. Her eyes glanced back at the Maiden, green eyes filled with religious guilt. 

Maiden, forgive me for my thoughts. She thought, swallowing thickly. 

The Great Hall was near its capacity with the collection of noble families that crowded it. Hundreds if not a full thousand people mulled around, mostly men as half the population of their guests were making their way towards the Red Keep from the Great Sept. Aemond lurked in the fringes of the hall, eye moving along to each faceless body, trying to identify who belonged to which family. He spotted Lord Borros immediately; he was an easy character to pick out from the crowd, and it was not because of his size. He was loud and tended to take up as much space as possible. Along with him, he found Jason Lannister, their Lord Treasurer’s twin brother. Lord Tyrell and his Dornish wife, the Redwyne brothers, the Starks, the Freys, and even the Greyjoys were in attendance.

Aemond knew that most would not stay longer than the length of the Tourney; it was not just wives that these bachelors looked for, but titles and knighthoods, of which the King promised. But there were many bachelors indeed, easily identifiable by their attire. 

The maidens wore white, and so did the un-affixed men, save for the widowers. The young men and boys that had not married once wore various shades of white doublets and jerkins. Their breeches are generally a darker colour, and a formal cloak of their house colours framed their bodies. 

Aemond abhorred the colour white on him, but at the very least the dark forest green of his cloak gave him the depth of darkness that he preferred. The lapels and stitching of his satin jerkin carried the same green, and in the same shade of white, dragons were embroidered onto his shoulders and the bottom near his hips. His cloak hung on a gold chain clutched in the jaws of two dragons at his shoulders. His eyepatch was the only black piece of clothing on him; it was his most formal one, with swirly switching in the leather. The strap this time was tucked under his hair and under the shell of his ear on one side, giving room for the golden circlet above his brow, showing his status as a prince of the realm. Lastly, part of his hair was intricately woven into a series of plaits that collected into a fishtail braid that went down the center of his head, the length of the rest of his hair fanned over his back like a sheet of silk. The process of which was irksome, as Aemond absolutely loathed anyone but himself and his mother to touch his hair. 

His eye fell onto Aegon, who wore similar garb, but held more gold than green on his doublet. His hair was only half pulled back into a small twisted plait on the back of his head, and the circlet that rested on his brow had emeralds encrusted around the gold rim. He kept himself busy with socializing, as that was what Aegon was known for. He surrounded himself with the team of Redwyne brothers, laughing loudly over goblets of wine, likely made from their wineries. 

Aemond moved his attention away from him, landing onto his uncle who was on the other side of the hall, keeping to the fringes just like him. Daemon wore black, whether by a personal preference or to convey the fact that he was still in mourning. It was likely the former of the two, knowing his uncle’s reputation. Daemon’s cloak was black as well, though the inside was blood red, making the Rogue Prince look like the Black Dread in human form. 

And of course, Daemon was looking directly at him.

Aemond kept his eye on him, refusing to move it an inch. 

It was always so strange to him that he and his uncle had not formally met at Leana's funeral, and even after the incident, no regard was spared. Daemon lurked in the shadows while his mother screamed for justice over Aemond’s eye, and not once did the Lord of Flea Bottom say a word about him claiming his late wife’s dragon. It wasn’t until only a couple days ago that they had even locked eyes with each other, after Valeana and Jacaerys greeted each other. 

It was bizarre. Like looking into a mirror that showed him his future. 

The staring contest broke when Daemon was joined by his step sons, oblivious to Aemond’s spectre on the other side of the Great Hall. Both men wore identical garb, save for their colouring. As heir to the heir, Jace wore a red cloak, draped over one shoulder, being held on by a silver dragon’s claw. His brother wore a muted aquamarine one, and his doublet had the image of the seahorse woven into patterns at his breast. With Lord Corlys still abed with no indication of survival, Luke’s choice of colours was a clear statement that he was the heir to Driftmark… But anyone with eyes knew the title belonged to Lord Vaemond Velayron. 

The doors to the main entrance opened with the blaring of trumpets announcing the arrival of the maidens. A hush went through the crowd as all men, and married and widowed women flanked the sides in order to make room for the ladies that would be presented. The first, of course, was Princess Helaena, who was dressed resplendently in a true white gown with a train that followed behind her. Her hair unbound, with a crown of white flowers upon her head. Her dress had little crystals woven into the hems and linings, and the shape of butterflies could be seen in the fine embroidery. Her sleeves were long and billowy, flowing into her skirts and covering her arms and hands completely. 

It was painfully obvious how nervous and fretful she was. She slowly descended down the wide staircase, eyes flickering around the crowd as her eyes shone with a glossiness of unease. Helaena was not good with crowds, and here she was on display for the entire Kingdom. Aemond made a step towards her, intent on collecting her from her personal hell, but his mother beat him to it. She swiftly cut through the crowd that parted and bowed for her. Upon reaching Helaena, she took her hand and silently pulled her through the crowd towards the head table where the royal family would be seated. 

After that was settled, the gently bred ladies were introduced to the room three to four at a time. There were the Four Storms, the Baratheon sisters, then Jason Lannister’s girls, and so forth. After a lady Redwyne and her Tyrell cousins were introduced, the names of Floris, Valeana and Shyla were announced, and Aemond snapped to attention. 

“Lady Floris Grafton, Lady Valeana Celtigar, and Lady Shyla Celtigar,” the announcer’s voice echoed in the hall. Aemond’s eye swept around for a moment, noticing some of the women whispering to each other as they craned their necks to watch the three girls descend down the stairs.

Aemond tried to appear impartial, but his body moved without his consent. He stepped in between bodies, forcing them to part with his shoulder. When people craned to see who had been cutting through them, they jumped aside. Had Aemond been paying attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed he was not the only one that filtered through the bodies to get closer. Apart from him, there were three others.

Valeana had her hands clutched in her gown, chin down on her clavicle as she watched her steps down the stairs. Her hair practically glowed in the midday sun that shone through the skylight and stained glass windows, giving her a halo of dust particles dancing around in the air about her head. Aemond has never seen her in white before, at least not from head to toe. She was radiant, like a star on earth. 

A divine creature descended from the Seventh Heaven. 

The Maiden in flesh and bone.

His eye trained on her every movement, his vision a tunnel and she was the light at the end of it. She was the only thing that existed in that room, in that world. Once she reached the ground, her eyes lifted and like a magnetic force they immediately found him. 

There was a ringing in his ear as he became deaf to everything and everyone around him. They were suspended in time the moment their eyes locked onto each other. Aemond’s lips parted as the breath was quite literally stolen from his lungs, and his life flashed before his eyes. All moments in time that he shared with her, as far back as babes. 

Squeals of laughter and delight as they played in the rain and mud, and then ran through the corridor tracking dirt on the flagstone, being chased by two irate Septas. Sitting back to back in a copper tub as the same two women scrubbed them down to their bones. 

Wrestling over the last lemon tart on their shared platter underneath the Heart Tree, getting tangled in the roots as they tugged at each other’s hair and pinched each other’s arms. They always ended up splitting it in the end when Valeana tapped out, huffing in disappointment and ignition. 

Their “discreet and secretive” sleep overs they would have under a large desk in the royal library. Sharing a large pillow and blanket as he practiced his Valyrian to her until she fell asleep on his shoulder. Maester Artos would always find them, barking loud enough to wake them in a startle, causing their heads to bump into each other.

Her face lighting up whenever he presented her with menial gifts, such as shiny rocks, seashells, flowers, or rusted jewelry found on the beaches of Blackwater Rush. She would always make something out of them; pendants, earrings, or unconventionally sewn in an embroidery loop, woven in her art for eternity. 

She running to him in tears after the Greyjoy boy kept on pinching and slapping her behind whenever she had her back turned. He had taken his handkerchief and dried her tears and smoothed down her hair, vowing that he will never let him touch her again. 

And then lastly when his father told him he would be marrying her, his best friend. And his one and only weakness. His pride and fear consumed him then, but now…

Now, as he watched her turn away, her hand poised out to grasp the hand of her elder brother, he was consumed by a new type of fear. The fear of losing her completely, of which his pride now would not allow. 

Valeana Celtigar belonged to him. 

As time took motion once more, the chorus of music and chatter filled his eardrums. Aemond was returned to reality, left to stare at her back as Clement brought his Valeana over to the side, where the rest of her family waited. Aemond forced himself to turn away before he could do anything rash in front of quite literally all of the Realm. 

The first dance of the ball was to begin shortly after the mingling of guests, and it would be followed by the feast, and a parade of fools and entertainers. Aemond intended to reach Valeana before the dance could begin, before Aegon or Jacaerys could reach her. He cut through the crowd in long strides, hyper aware of the eyes of his father, mother, sister, and rogue uncle upon him as he narrowed the space between himself and the Celtigars. However, before he could even get within yards of them, his path was intercepted by Lord Borros and the eager brown eyes of Maris Baratheon. 

“Prince Aemond,” The Stormlord greeted, his smile calculated and false. It didn’t reach his dark eyes, which assessed him with keen suspicion. “I thought you might have lost my beautiful daughter in the crowd, and so I personally escorted her to you.”

Maris looked up at her father in gratitude before back at Aemond, “I told my father it was my wish to take my first dance with you, Prince Aemond. If it pleases you.”

The reality of his decisions of the past few weeks weighed heavily on his shoulders in that instant. Since that moment in the corridor with Valeana the other day, he had forgotten he had shown personal interest in Maris Baratheon. By now Borros  surely was already fixated on the idea of betrothal, else he would not be here carting his daughter to him like a sacrificial lamb. More likely than not, the Stormlord surely had talked to the King about it already, which presented more problems. Had this been a week ago, Aemond would have only hesitated for a moment before bending to duty, should it have been the will of his father and mother. Both of which he knew were against it for some vague reason, given the lecture that was given to both him and Aegon the night of their return.

His eyes flickered above their heads where he could just about make out Valeana, standing partially behind the body of a girl with red hair and a round, plush face. Aegon and Jace crowded them, effectively snuffing out his chance at claiming Val’s first dance.

Aemond’s jaw was tense when he looked back down at Maris, but he forced himself to smile, just enough to make him look convincing. 

“It would please me greatly, Lady Maris,” he extended his hand to her, which she took with a bright smile and casted a look to her father over her shoulder. 

Lord Borros hummed satisfyingly, “Wise choice, my Prince. Next to my little Floris, she is the best dancer at Storm’s End. Beauty, brains, and grace!”

“Father! Please!” Maris chided, taking her place at Aemond’s side. Too close for comfort. Too close for him to look detached.

Separating himself from Maris now was going to be a challenge. The last thing he needed was contention with Borros Baratheon, when in the future his mother and grandsire may need his loyalty.

Aegon was well into his cups before the maidens arrived for the ball, and that was simply due to his nature. A man who quickly found friends among strangers, Aegon was by all accounts a social butterfly, and an avid social drinker. When the maidens started to enter the Great Hall, he leaned against a large pillar casually next to Redwyne brothers, as the four of them each judged every girl that walked in. 

“Ah, Cassandra Baratheon,” Aegon turned to the three men, “Beautiful, but a bore. She complains about every bloody thing.”

“That is unfortunate,” Cleyton, the eldest, tutted. “I like tall women.”

Aegon scrunched up his nose at that, “Do you really? Not for me. I like them short… easier to align their nose with my cock.”

The men laughed and turned back to the parade of women. Jason Lannister’s daughters came in after, hair like spun wheat and looking like clones of each other. 

“I’d take them all, one at a time, or all together, really,” Ser Cedric, the second son, giggled into his cup while his younger brother slapped him in his arm. 

“Such a pig, Cedric. A greedy pig,” Colin chided, earning him an incredulous look from Cedric. 

“You’re one to talk, baby brother. You were ogling the widows like a hunger panged hound.”

Cleyton leaned into Aegon’s shoulder, “He likes older women.”

Aegon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh, “I do not blame him. Older women often make the most eager sluts.”

“Lady Wylla Stark, Lady Barba Bolton, and Lysara Karstark.” 

“Oh, now she is a work of art,” Cedric stepped forward, his hand gesturing to the raven haired woman descending the stairs. “I always thought Northern women were large, hairy and had beards. Thank the Seven I’m wrong.” 

“I’d be careful with that one,” Aegon said thoughtfully. “She will emasculate you with her eyes alone.” 

Cedric smirked widely, “Sounds like my kind of woman, then. I enjoy a good hunt every once in a while, you know?”

Cleyton snorted, shaking his head, “You forget she’s a Stark; a direwolf. She’s the hunter… And you are a pretty boy with a long stick and shiny hair that you spend too much time on.” 

The boys laughed, even Aegon, as Cedric shook his vibrant mane away from his face haughtily, “Thank you for calling me pretty, brother. You know how it gets me hard.” 

“Good gods,” Colin sighed embarrassingly into his palm. 

Then the doors opened to three women, two tall and willowy with dark brown to black hair in coiled curls and thin braids, and the third a shorter girl in an empire waistline dress and bright orange hair tumbling about her shoulders. Clearly a chubby one, even with the cut of her dress that tried to shield her unwanted curves. 

“Oh, that is simply not fair,” Aegon tutted, “You don’t pair up the thoroughbreds with the mule.” 

“Oi, careful now,” Cleyton rebuked while Cedric made a sharp hissing sound through his teeth before covering his grin with his fist. 

“That’s our sister, my Prince,” Colin quickly added. 

Aegon grimaced, sucking at his teeth as he casted a look over to his new mates, “Sorry. What I mean to say is: Your sister is very lovely.”

The girls were introduced as Lady Sharis and Malora Tyrell, and Lady Catelyn Redwyne, first cousins likely from their mother’s side of the family. 

“Lovely, sure,” Cedric snorted in his cup, earning him a quick whack from his elder brother upside the head. 

It was not long after that the Celtigar sisters were introduced to the crowd. The mere appearance of Valeana was enough to sober Aegon, but only to then get drunk at her visage after. 

“Oh, ho, ho,” Cedric dog whistles and nudges Aegon’s arm, “That’s her then? The Celtigar girl that’s gotten the Princes of the Realm all in a tizzy. Now I can see what the fuss is all about. It’s the only bloody thing Cat, Shar and Mal can ever bleedin’ talk about.”

Aegon grinned, eyes still glued onto Valeana as she descended down the stairs slowly, her sisters trailing ahead of her at a faster pace. 

“The whispers have reached the pavilions then?” Aegon’s eyebrow raised, not paying them a minute of his attention. His teeth grazed his bottom lip as his eyes drank in every inch of her. Her neck, her hair, her bosoms and her cinched waistline. He felt a stir in his loins and the overwhelming desire to taint her white dress by deflowering her took over his senses. 

Her maidenhead will be his. 

He stopped listening to the Redwyne brothers; their prattle was background noise to him as he swallowed the remains of his goblet and quickly shoved it into one of the boys’ empty palms. 

“Excuse me,” he pushed himself from the column, eyes trained on Valeana as she parted from her family to go converse with none other than Catelyn Redwyne, of all people.

As he made his way through the milling bodies, in the corner of his eye he could see another filtering through towards the same destination. His eyes caught his nephew’s, and with a dual glance back at Valeana, the race was on. The two princes cut through the crowd, causing curious looks and shocked whispers at the sight.

“Seven Hells,” Valeana startled when she turned around just in time to see the brown and silver haired princes all but collide with each other. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, she put Catelyn in front of her to shield her. The redheaded girl did not seem to complain. 

“Good Maiden’s Day, Lady Valeana,” Aegon greeted first, a knowing smile upon his face. “You look resplendent today.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” Val curtsied stiffly. 

“I dare say she always looks resplendent,” Jace smiled, his hands folded neatly in front of him, “But, you do look exceptionally more today, Lady Valeana. White suits you.” 

Aegon sent him a withering look. 

Catelyn turned to Valeana, all wide eyed and gleaming with barely concealed excitement. Aegon didn’t see, but she mouthed: “Three princes?!”

Valeana’s eyes widened slightly at her before returning her attention to the men in front of her, “Prince Aegon, Prince Jacaerys, this is my new friend, Lady Catelyn Redwyne.”

“But, please call me Cat. Everyone does.” 

“Ah, yes, I was just acquainting myself with your brothers,” Aegon bobbed on his feet and smiled politely at her. “Lively lads, them. It is true what they say about the Redwynes; they can drink anyone under the table and still walk in a straight line. A talent I someday wish to have.”

Cat giggled, then gave a soft snort, which caused her to blush heavily and cover her mouth, “Oh! Oh, dear, that was embarrassing.”

Aegon hummed amusingly, smile still donned, “Aren’t you a darling. If I can make a lady laugh to the point of snorting, then I have succeeded in life.”

The four of their heads perked up at the sound of lutes and drums, signalling that the first dance was about to begin. Aegon turned back around, eyes finding Valeana’s His mouth opened, ready to ask her for a dance, but Jace was quicker and his request left no room for refusal. 

“I promised Lady Ursula that you would be the first I asked to dance, Lady Valeana,” Jace stepped forward with an extended hand, his smile charming, “I hope you do not do me a disservice by forcing me to break that promise.” 

Valeana swallowed, looking at Aegon briefly with pained eyes, and then back at Jace. The corners of her lips tugged upward, twitching as she tried to keep a polite face. 

“Well, I would never wish to disappoint my mother,” she placed her hand in his, and he gently pulled her into his orbit. 

Aegon glowered silently, nostrils flared as his finger curled into fists. Jace gave him a smug look of triumph, the end of his lips turning into an insufferable smirk before returning his baseborn brown eyes onto Valeana. She gave Aegon one last look before she disappeared onto the dance floor. 

“Strong bastard,” Aegon hissed, forgetting he was not alone. 

Catelyn laugh-snorted again, then promptly covered her mouth, eyes wide with realization. “Oh no, I should not have laughed at that.”

Aegon’s mood significantly shifted; his smile broadened as he turned to her. “Oh, but I am glad you did,” he tilted his head and offered her his hand. “May I have your first dance, Lady Cat?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE SNEAK PEAK He hummed, his eyes glancing down to the floor where her feet were hidden behind the hem of her dress, and then back up.  “I didn’t see you dancing.” She couldn’t help her eyes from narrowing, “You were watching me?” There was a faint smile there, one that she could not decide if she liked or not. Though what he said after did make her toes tingle and her face feel hot.  “Always.” 

Notes: Oh, where do I begin. You finally get to meet my other babies. If it wasn't obvious already, the heroine for Aegon's Spin Off story has been introduce, along with her brothers and cousins. They party hard at the Arbor, what can I say. I havent decided yet if I'll wait until the end of TPD to post his story yet, but I will warn you guys, that there will be a mia moment of no updates for probably two weeks as I try to work on both of them simultaneously. I've only written the prologue, and I need to make sure I get the timeline right. But that will probably not happen until sometime in November.

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

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

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

[lovelaetter]

hi! its my first time asking but any thoughts on rosé cuz goddamn i love her so much

and also can i be 😎

THANK YOU!

it surprises me that i haven’t talked about her yet because those who know me know that she is my main girl. okay, sure, her, jennie and yeri actually fight for the position from time to time but she’s the top suitor, number one girl fr. it’s so not healthy to ask me about her because i could talk about her for hours and it’s not even a joke, the posts i miss the most from the old blog are hers :( like, sugar baby!rosé, vampire’s reader crazy gf!rosé… come back to me, i miss you all 😢

now let’s talk about something that haunts me: secretary, controversially younger sugar baby and mistress!rosé. you feel so bad, that’s an awful thing to do to your partner, but then you enter the hotel room she’s waiting you at and sees her in bed looking like the most ethereal little fawn against the pillows wearing the pretty silk set you bought her, pouting, softly snoring… how were you supposed to not fall for her? all thoughts are out of your head because look at your baby, got all dolled up and you took so long to arrive. suddenly everything you want is to take off your shoes, get into bed and awake her with soft kisses. and she’s so happy to awaken, honestly, jumping onto your arms with this huge smile for a real kiss, running over her own words “i missed you so much why did you take so long no it doesn’t matter i dont care i misseeeed you”. the type to not let go of you, whines when you get up to shower even if you promise you’ll take minutes, seats on your lap while you two eat dinner but you have to feed her yourself because she talks and talks and talks and the talking turns into moaning because the food is gone and you’re just looking at her with this lovingly gaze, asking “really, baby?” and rubbing gently between her legs over her shorts and she has nothing underneath and is starting to feel her hole leak and seep through the fabric with ease.

she’s your little secret but maybe not so little, there is a number of people who have seen her sneaking into your office at not so busy hours of the day only to come out thirty minutes later all smiley and glowing, something new in the air around her, sitting behind her desk fixing makeup and hair. or the glances you throw at her outfits, expensive pieces she certainly isn’t buying with secretary money or how she doesn’t know to act when your partner shows up unannounced for some reason. but who cares? it’s not their business if the boss is fucking her younger secretary or not.

and she doesn’t want to ruin your marriage, really, but there’s no guilty in her when your marriage is already failed, she knows it’s all an act… but that doesn’t mean she can’t get jealous. totally does not storm inside your office after your partner leaves to passive aggressively ask how they were, trying to be nonchalant but staying in the middle of the room staring at you with her arms crossed. you might try to convince her to come to you but she won’t, leaving you to get up and walk to her, taking her pretty face in hands and kissing the pout away, telling her to “stop being silly, rosie” and it takes her guards down because she knows there’s nothing to worry about :( ends up bend over your desk and basically drooling, her pants undone and all the way down her ankles and keeping her ass cheeks spread open for you, who is kneeling and slurping on her sweet cunt from behind.

[felicjana050896]

This will be a very long post, so sorry, but I have to, I have inspiration and I have to write down my thoughts :)

So, about the leak…, I saw it, so for everyone who reads this

ATTENTION

if you don't want spoilers, don't read further, there will be only spoilers about the leak below and I ask everyone not to openly spread the information contained in it the leak or the leak itself without hiding this information or the leak below and providing it with a warning, because there are people who do not want to see the leak and have the right not to see information about it, and people who have seen the leak and want to know about it discuss have an obligation to do everything to ensure that such people are not openly exposed to this without warnings, let's respect each other as fans of Hazbin Hotel.

First I have to add some words from myself (again): So, moving on to the leak that is on Tik Tok, I won't post it here because I don't want to spread it, at most I can send the video in a private message to those interested, with a warning again not to spread it further, but to keep it to themselves, there are people who don't want to know about it and you have to respect them, but then there are people like me who like this little bit of excitement while waiting for the next season (by the way, this is good news, because you can see that the season is being actively created, because I was afraid that we would see it no sooner than in 2026/27, and looking at this leak, the way it looks, at some points it is already quite advanced in terms of sketches and the fact that both animators and voice actors, that the series is being actively created, I think it will be released somewhere in six months, or a year at the latest, and that makes me look forward to it even more :) ) and yes, I sometimes like to receive some information from the actors or the creators themselves, Viv herself said some spoilers about the second season, such as the song Charlie or Vaggie, etc. (if it's true, because I don't know how this account is reliable, but it seems to be an official account informing about news related to cartoons, who knows, I don't, you can probably also find this tweet in the most popular ones from Hazbin Hotel), because for me such information is a small relief in waiting and they fuel the excitement about the series' arrival, because it makes me wait for it even more impatiently.

And finally, getting serious about the leak, I would like to analyze it, I will only write, I will not paste neither photos nor fragments of the video, as I wrote above.

At the beginning we see that Alastor has come to Rosie asking her, even demanding her help, we see that he is angry, even furious.

I won't write about the fact that this whole leak tells us practically 100% (unless someone is really laughing at us) that Rosie is the owner of Alastor's soul, because there is nothing to analyze here, in my opinion, I can only write that I was shocked…, I didn't even suspect that Alastor might have a deal with her, my two most likely chances were:

Eve/Roo

Lilith

I would have sooner believed that Alastor had a deal with the von Eldrichts, never with Rosie, because in the first season they really seemed to be very close friends, many people shipped them, I shipped Alastor with her after Charlastor, it was my second shipp which including Al, and now…, I don't see Alastor and Rosie happening at all, and clearly this whole friendship is fake…, which brings me to my next point:

Alastor doesn't actually have any real friends!

Some people have written before that he has no friends, but they always wrote it this way, that if Alastor is "friends" with someone, it is only for his own benefits, and I always thought that Rosie and Mimzy were his friends after all, Rosie more, than Mimzy, because Mimzy uses him, but despite everything, and now my view is ruined… Alastor has no real friends…, Rosie is his mistress and this whole friendship is fake, Mimzy uses him, he uses Husker, Niffty is kind of his obedient pet after all, he doesn't have anyone real in his life… and that makes me think even more about Charlastor's perspective… because Charlie is a person who doesn't mean anything using Alastor, who is honest and true (even if in my opinion she hides part of herself, this demonic part of herself, partly for the sake of wanting to be too good, partly for the sake of Vaggie, who is disgusted by demonicity…, sorry, but I'll go anti Chaggie now, how can you say that you love someone when you are ashamed/fearful/dislike/hate/disgusted or in any way negative about half of the personality of the person you are with and want them to hide that half…, even worse because Vaggie hate songs, singing, dancing, general joy and optimism that Charlie displays, even her good heart, because Vaggie herself was against helping others from the very beginning, it really surprises me how you can make these two people be together and even in the Wiki about Hazbin Hotel the character of Vaggie writes "she likes everything that Charlie likes", when everything is nonsense…, everything that Charlie likes, Vaggie hates, the only thing that Vaggie likes is Charlie herself, Charlie, but stripped of her good heart, of her love of dancing, singing, music, of her demonic powers, everything that Charlie is Vaggie hates or he just doesn't like it… how can it be possible to say that these two characters have chemistry…, I used to justify their relationship with the text "No, Vaggie is just too underdeveloped, empty", but now the more I think about this relationship, the more I see that it's not true, Vaggie in my opinion has something else in her, something more, but like Charlie, she hides it because, like with her lies, she is afraid that Charlie will dislike her for it or hates her, and at the same time she tells Charlie to proverbially hide in a corner every time, these two women have a negative impact on each other, they pin each other flat to the ground with chains and do not allow each other to get up…, they limit each other, this relationship is superficially healthy and sweet, but if you look deeper, it is terribly toxic for both of them… I've gone too far… and this isn't about Chaggie… I'm sorry, but something really got on my mind today after seeing this leak… :) ), Charlie is the person who can (and in my opinion will) become the real person for Alastor, the one who won't uses him like Mimzy, nor try to gain power over him, despite being more powerful like Rosie, she will not be his pet like Niffty, nor will she be his subject like Husker, Charlie, in my opinion, will surprise Alastor more than once (positively, of course) and this will significantly change his perspective, because probably everyone in his surroundings, they were one of the categories of those four people above, summed up to two: they either tried to take advantage of him or allowed themselves to be taken advantage of by him, and I look forward to watching Charlie neither try to gain the upper hand over him nor submit to him, but she responds to his challenge honestly, as equals, that's something I want to see :)

Moving on, we clearly see that Rosie treats Alastor as her pet, she calls him "pet", says that he is part of her zoo, says that he will listen to her, sit when she says sit, etc., we see some a kind of leash and a cage, so it's no wonder that Alastor treats Husker in the same way and treats Niffty like a small animal, he took an example from Rosie, it's not his own invention (as some people thought), but her influence.

We further learn that Alastor has been serving her for centuries, from what we learn later in the cutscene, Alastor has been her "pet" since they met, so it could be a really, really long time ago…, it's possible that even from the very beginning when he went to hell… he says that he obeyed her demands and a thought occurred to me… what if all the murdering of overlords that Alastor did in the past was not of his own will, but on Rosie's orders… because she wanted to get rid of strong competition and used Alastor for this purpose…?

We further learn that it was because of Rosie that he disappeared for these 7 years and that people are less afraid of him after this time, the question is why did she tell him to disappear?

Did she just want to weaken him this way, to silence the Radio Demon a bit, because she saw that he was starting to pose too much of a threat, so she told him to disappear?

He then talks about fixing his staff, so we learn that he went alone, reluctantly, as we see at the very beginning of the clip, to ask for her help in fixing his staff. I'm guessing it's about all the people in the hotel, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Husker, Niffty etc., maybe they are in a complete emotional turmoil and he asks her for help, similar to when he took Charlie to her when she needed to talk to someone after an argument with Vaggie. Most importantly, even if Alastor says "staff", we clearly see that he cares about this staff ;) , he went to the person who owns his soul, with great reluctance, to help his "staff" (let's agree Alastor, we call each other by name, they are not "staff", they are friends :) ), clearly in my opinion we will see Alastor becoming more and more attached to our hotel group, whether he likes it or not :D

And something that is most important to me, which is at the very end, which I must quote:

R: Who can't be sad?

A: At least not yet.

This is what struck me the most (apart from the deal itself, of course), everyone in Cannibal Town (except Susan, of course…) is smiling all the time, Rosie herself is also smiling almost all the time, these exchanges above can, in my opinion, suggest two things:

Less likely, but I'll write it anyway, that Alastor wants to get over Rosie and wants her to end up sad.

Most likely, and by the way, it would also solve the case that Alastor's smile is not some maniacal smile of a psychopath, as some have written, but it may really be, as others have written, the result of magic, Alastor's deal with Rosie and Alastor is constantly forced by her smiling, which he has had enough of.

These are my quick thoughts after this leak, thank you for your perseverance (who persevered :D ), reading (who read :D ) and I wish you a nice day, evening or night :)

Link to the second part:

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ On the leash for you ♡

Tags. Chuuya N. / afab! Reader. Whatever comes in here, idk what I'm abt to write, but it's prolly gonna be FILTHY. Grammar mistakes??? Sorry if it doesn't make sense I just followed my horny instinct. (^_^) Oh, Chuuya's our little submissive pet!!

Notes. THIS IS PURE FILTHY HORNINESS. (And short)

"I want your clothes taken off.", you said sternly, Chuuya just nodded and started undoing his buttons, his bare chest now showing. You started to smirk, after his trousers got off, you spoke again. "Give me your belt,", little confused, he just did what you wanted and removed the belt from the discarded trousers. "Good, stay still for me.", you told him, he nodded and kept looking at you. You locked it around his neck, of course not to tight, just enough to your liking. "Is that comfortable for you?", Chuuya's nodding wasn't enough, you needed words affirmation. "Words, babe.", he hesitated a second. "It's comfortable, mistress.", you smirked again and tugged the belt towards yourself.

His upper body got dragged to you, you kneeled down to look at his face. Chuuya's cheeks were slightly flushed, his breath was getting heavy. Your fingers slid down his bare torso to his boxers and you could feel his hard on press against the fabric. "You're excited already? That's a little naughty, we've barely started.", Chuuya just turned to another direction. "With the way you're talking right now, i don't think it's that surprising.", not facing you, haha, not happening. You wanted— no,— needed his full attention. Your fingers was still on his crotch. The fingers started drawing circles around it on top of the boxers fabric, getting Chuuya even more worked up. His breath got heavier, his cheeks got also more rosy. You sped up with the motion and started filthy whispering things. "Can't make you feel good if I don't have your attention, babe. . You wanna be a good boy for me, right?", he was starting to whimper quietly, muttering something under his breath. "What was that?", he took in another deep breath before responding.

"Y–yes, mistress. . Sorry, didn't mean to."

Now that's what you wanted to hear, such a good dog!

Leaving this on a cliffhanger because I'm impatient!!! 😞 (I ACC PROOFREAD THIS FOR ONCE POOKIES)

[velvet4510]

Rosie Cotton does not get enough praise. This gal was truly a queen among hobbits. There’s a darn good reason Tolkien himself dubbed her “absolutely essential,” because she is.

(Samfro shippers especially need to appreciate her rather than erase her.)

The love of her life abruptly left the Shire and was gone for a whole year, when she was expecting them to get married. Think of how painful that must’ve been for her. Then she had such a strong intuition that she somehow sensed the Ring’s destruction and knew he was going to come back. Nobody else had this feeling but her. There’s definitely something special about Rosie Cotton, if she was able to sense this out of nowhere.

But then, when Sam finally did return safe and sound, he was head over heels for his master and planning to move in with him.

How did Rosie react? She accepted that being with Sam meant including Frodo, that there wouldn’t really be just the two of them like a typical marriage. And she basically said to Sam, “Let’s get married anyway and live with him.” Her love for Sam never went away, and not even his feelings for Frodo could make her want to marry anyone else. She knew what she wanted and wouldn’t settle for anything less. She took Sam exactly as he was, Frodo and all.

Not only that, Rosie literally allowed Frodo to name her firstborn child. Not her husband, not herself, but Frodo. She settled on the name that Frodo chose for her own daughter: Elanor. Talk about generosity; that alone really shows just how closely she let Frodo into the family.

And it was Rosie’s presence that gave Sam strength and a will to live when he needed it most. If it hadn’t been for her, Sam would’ve been left all alone and heartbroken with nothing, because Frodo would’ve either left on the ship or withered away and died in just a few years, maybe even months. Even if Sam had left on the ship with Frodo, he would’ve yet again given up his life and dreams for Frodo and lost his chance at cultivating his beloved Shire and having a family. Frodo would’ve just felt guilty and it would’ve likely tainted their relationship. It was Rosie who gave Sam something to live for in the Shire, and gave Frodo the peace of mind that he’d be leaving Sam in good hands. And she accomplished all this just by offering Sam the unconditional love, care, and support that he needed, and by respecting and loving Frodo when very few Shirefolk did. This is why Samfro shippers should never erase Rosie or blame her for the separation; Frodo was forced to leave Sam, either way, and Rosie was the miracle that they needed in order to survive the separation.

And then Rosie proceeded to (somehow) birth and raise a total of 13 children(!!), while also rising from simple farm girl to the Mistress of Bag End, the grandest estate in all of Hobbiton, and the Mayor’s wife, essentially leading the entire community of the Shire alongside Sam. She got a total of 62 years with the love of her life - who she once thought she’d lost forever - and lived to be 98.

Regardless of who you ship, respect Rosie Cotton. She deserves it.

[i-cant-sing]

when are you gonna update the concubine dabi fic that you made😚 you dont even have to write the nsfw i just need to see the drama between hawks an dabi

The DRAMA is in the nsfw 😔😔😔 but I'm working on making it less NSFW and still keep the drama.

Let me give u an example of one of the scenes I plan on writing for the concubine story-

Dabi is feeling a little jealous ever since you allowed that winged whore into your harem. Obviously, Keigo had piqued your interest, and Dabi didn't like that. He never liked it when your attention deviated from him.

He made his way to your chambers. It was routine, he always came by to help you... "relieve" your stress.

But as he went to knock on your door, the guards outside blocked his way.

Dabi gave them a quizzical look. What?

"You can't go in, concubine Dabi."

"Why the hell not?" Dabi asked, slighted that the guard had the nerve to stop him.

"The Sultana is engaged with someone."

"Who?" Dabi looked at the two of them. "I said, who is she talking to?" They kept their heads bowed, the guards weren't allowed to look at the sultanas harem, especially not her favourite concubine.

The sound of your laughter came from the room, and Dabi narrowed his eyes at them again.

"You don't get to keep things from me, because if you keep things from me, I start bringing things to light. How is your mistress these days? Still pregnant like your wife is?" Dabi threatened.

The guard sighed in defeat before whispering his name.

"Concubine Keigo is in there."

"Was he summoned by the sultana?" Dabi interrogated. The guard shook his head in negative.

"No. He just walked up to us and before we could stop him, he loudly knocked on the door. The sultana asked who was there and again, he announced himself very loudly. The Sultana let him in, and he's been in there for the past 2 hours."

2 hours? And without being summoned? What kind of fucking nerve he has to think he can just barge in there?

"Announce me." He nodded at tge guard, who didn't bother arguing because he knew he would be threatened again.

Very gently, the guard knocked. The room became silent.

"Pardon the interruption, Sultana. Concubine Dabi is here." The guard called from outside.

A few more moments of silence. Then footsteps.

They weren't yours. Dabi knows.

The door opened just enough for Keigo to poke his head outside. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes half lidded, and his rosy cheeks were gracing a lustful smile.

"Uh- Dabi! How are you?" Slighted at the moment for dropping his honorific, but more jealous than ever when he caught the glimpse of his shiny, bare chest. "The Sultana says that she'll meet you later. She's a... very busy at the moment, if you know what I mean." He winked as he wiped something off his lip before licking his thumb.

Dabi remained stoic before turning around and leaving. But he knew .... he knew Keigo could see the absolute rage and jealousy that was coursing through his body.

As he was returning to his Chambers, passing by the harem, he could feel the other concubines staring at him from above, giggling among themselves and whispering something about "a new favourite" being in town.

Dabi lifted his head up, throwing one murderous glance at them was enough to have them courtesying and running away with their tails tucked between their legs.

A new favourite?

Impossible.

[war-is-bad-girls]

Commander x Mistress: touch her cheek by @keic24

source

Caption: Smooth, slightly cool, rosy cheeks. A commander who experiences for the first time the comfort of the touch of another person's skin.