#spiral staircase to give away

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[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 Crimson Silk & Cameron Sins . • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- when your married lover gives you a weekend alone in his mansion, what's a girl to do? Try on his wife's clothes and fuck him in them, obviously.

warnings -- 18+-mdni smut with plot (unprotected piv), cum denial, infidelity, pussywhipped! rafe, slight sub! rafe, our girl highkey has daddy issues (relatable content)

other woman masterlist | main masterlist(s) | taglist | based on this ask | wc: 2.5k

You stood in awe of Tanny Hill, finally seeing in person what you'd only glimpsed through his wife's carefully curated Facebook photos.

Your bag slipped from your grasp as you took in the magnificent estate, slowly making your way through corridors that breathed old money and preserved elegance.

Rafe clicked the lock into place behind you, his movements deliberate and purposeful.

"You like what you see, baby?" The smugness in his voice was palpable. "Tanny Hill's completely empty." His hands slid around your waist, pulling your bodies together in a slow, hypnotic sway. "No kids. No wife. For an entire weekend—"

"Just us," you interrupted, melting into his warmth, your body betraying your eagerness.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect - her grandmother's sudden passing in Minnesota had cleared the house for the entire weekend.

You felt a twinge of guilt for the flash of joy you'd experienced upon hearing the news, but it vanished quickly. After all, you hadn't wished the old woman ill; you'd just benefited from the circumstance.

The emergency family gathering had whisked away his picture-perfect wife and their carefully coordinated children, leaving Tanny Hill deliciously empty. Just thinking about having Rafe all to yourself in this shrine to his marriage made your skin tingle with anticipation.

His breath tickled your neck as he chuckled at your eagerness. "Just us," he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "And every room in this house to ourselves." His grip tightened possessively around your waist, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair.

"Where should we start?" he murmured against your ear, already guiding you backward toward the nearest wall. "The master bedroom?" His lips brushed your neck. "The kitchen?" Another teasing kiss. "Or maybe right here in this hallway?"

Your words dissolved into silence as he pressed you firmly against the expensive wallpaper, the heat of his body trapping you in place. His eyes held that dangerous gleam - the one that promised trouble - while his fingers toyed deliberately with the waistband of your tennis skirt, making his intentions unmistakably clear.

"No, not here," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to do it in the master bedroom."

The implication hung heavy in the air - you wanted him in their bed, in the sacred space where his wife sleeps. The suggestion made his pupils dilate with dark approval.

Rafe seized your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours in a grip that bordered on painful. He practically dragged you toward the spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time in his desperate haste. His breathing was already ragged, matching the frenzied energy radiating from his body as he led you up toward the master suite.

The polished bannister glided beneath your free hand as you struggled to keep pace with his long strides, your footsteps echoing through the empty house. Each step brought you closer to crossing a line that couldn't be uncrossed - exactly where you both wanted to be.

Family photos lined the stairwell wall, each perfectly framed moment mocking you as you ascended. Her face smiled down at you from every angle - his wife, beautiful and poised in her designer dresses, always at Rafe's side at charity galas and beach club events.

Their wedding photo dominated the landing - her in white lace, him in a tailored tux, both sun-kissed and privileged. This should be your life.

Your photos on these walls. Your social media posts from exclusive galas and exotic vacations. Your perfect children with his dangerous smile running through these halls. Your name engraved on family heirlooms and country club memberships. Your status as the youngest, most envied Mrs. Cameron in Figure Eight's elite circle.

Instead, you're sneaking through her house like a thief, stealing moments with her husband while she plays the grieving granddaughter states away.

Your grip tightened on Rafe's hand as bitter jealousy coiled in your stomach. She had everything you wanted - the Cameron name, the social status, the legitimate claim to this man who was now pulling you toward her bedroom.

But for this weekend at least, you had something she didn't: her husband's undivided attention and unrestrained desire.

You barely had time to take in the master bedroom's elegant design before Rafe threw you onto the king-sized bed - their bed.

He straddled you immediately, attacking your neck with hungry kisses. As he worked his way down your body, your eyes wandered around their shared sanctuary.

Her presence was everywhere - expensive perfume bottles on the vanity, family photos on the nightstand, a silk robe draped over a chaise lounge.

Each item twisted the knife of jealousy deeper. The walk-in closet door stood slightly ajar, offering glimpses of her designer wardrobe perfectly arranged beside his suits.

Rafe's mouth traced lower, his hands pushing up your skirt, but you couldn't stop cataloging all the ways she'd marked her territory - the monogrammed pillows, her jewelry box, her books stacked neatly on the bedside table.

You were an intruder here, a temporary replacement in a space that screamed her name. Yet somehow, that only made you want him more - want to erase her presence, if only for these stolen moments.

His tongue had barely made contact with your cunt when your attention drifted to the walk-in closet again. The door opened wide, revealing her extensive wardrobe in the soft ambient lighting.

One dress caught your eye - a crimson silk number that probably cost more than your monthly rent, its sequins catching the light like drops of blood.

"Wait," you breathed, pushing Rafe's head away. He looked up, confusion and frustration darkening his features.

"What's wrong?" His voice was rough with desire as he palmed himself through his expensive slacks, clearly impatient with the interruption.

You slipped out from under him, drawn to the closet like a moth to flame.

The dress called to you - her dress.

You ran your fingers along the smooth fabric, imagining her wearing it to some exclusive Cameron family event.

"I want to try it on," you announced, already pulling it from the hanger.

Rafe's expression shifted from frustration to intrigue as he watched you strip down and slip into his wife's dress.

The silk clung to your body differently than it would have to hers, but the fit was close enough. You turned to face him, now standing in the middle of their bedroom wearing his wife's clothes, the ultimate act of territorial invasion.

His eyes darkened with dangerous appreciation. "Come here," he growled, the command sending shivers down your spine.

Rafe shifted to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs wide as you moved between them, the silk dress whispering against your skin with each step.

"Shit, look at you," he breathed, his hungry gaze traveling slowly up your body. "Do a spin for me."

You turned slowly, letting the crimson fabric catch the light, knowing you were playing with fire. The dress felt like power - her power - now wrapped around your body.

Each rotation brought a deeper gleam of approval to Rafe's eyes, his fingers flexing against his thighs as he watched you model his wife's clothes.

"You wear it better," he said, his voice thick with desire. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the silk. "But it needs to come off. Now."

You caught his hands before they could strip away the silk, holding them against your waist again. Something reckless stirred inside you, pushing you to test boundaries you knew better than to cross.

"Don't you wish you could leave her for me?" The words tumbled out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'd be such a better Mrs. Cameron." Your fingers traced along his jawline. "I'd know how to keep you satisfied. How to handle your… darker needs."

The dangerous flash in Rafe's eyes told you you'd crossed a line. His grip on your waist tightened painfully, fingers digging into silk and flesh. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by something more volatile.

"Don't," he warned, his voice carrying an edge that should have scared you. But you were too far gone, drunk on power and jealousy and the thrill of playing with fire.

You slowly straddled his lap, making sure her crimson silk dress stayed perfectly arranged around you. The fabric whispered against both your bodies - a constant reminder of whose clothes you were wearing, whose life you were trying to claim. His hands automatically found your hips, bunching the expensive material between his fingers.

"Just imagine it," you whispered against his ear, rolling your hips slowly against his. "Me wearing dresses like this at all those charity galas, turning heads in Figure Eight." Your fingers traced his chest while the silk rustled between you. "I'd be the perfect Cameron wife. So much younger, so much more… willing to please."

You felt his breathing quicken despite his attempt to maintain control. "Think about those family vacations," you continued, the dress sliding smoothly as you pressed closer. "Me by the infinity pool at your beach house, giving you a reason to actually enjoy those trips." Your lips brushed his neck. "And I'd give you what she couldn't - a real family. Little Camerons with your dangerous smile and that fire in their blood."

His fingers twisted deeper into the silk at your hips, wrinkling her perfect dress - a warning and an encouragement all at once. You were playing a dangerous game, wearing his wife's clothes while whispering promises of replacing her entirely.

"I need you," he growled, the words rough against his throat. His composure was cracking, control slipping as his hands bunched the silk dress higher around your thighs. "Right now. In this dress."

You smiled against his skin, knowing you'd won this round. The silk rustled as you shifted, keeping the dress carefully arranged while guiding him inside you. His grip tightened almost painfully on your hips as you sank down, the expensive fabric of his wife's dress pooling around where your bodies joined.

A groan escaped his throat as you began to move, the crimson silk sliding between you like liquid fire. Each roll of your hips was deliberate, calculated - a reminder that you could give him everything he secretly wanted. His hands roamed possessively over the dress, marking the fabric with desperate fingerprints, defiling this symbol of his marriage with every thrust.

"Tell me you need me," you breathed against his ear, maintaining the torturously slow pace. "Tell me I'm better."

"You're… you're everything," he gasped between ragged breaths, bucking his hips to meet your torturous rhythm. "So much better. God, I need you."

You rewarded him by grinding down harder, savoring the way he filled you completely. His hands clutched at your silk-clad body, desperate for more.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Are you really going to leave her for me this time?" Your hips never stopped their maddening dance, the silk dress whispering against your skin with each movement.

His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging into the delicate fabric. For a moment, you thought he might resist, might cling to that last shred of loyalty. But then you clenched around him, squeezing his cock in a vice-like grip, and his resolve shattered.

Rafe's eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with lust as he gazed up at you. At that moment, with you bouncing on his cock and squeezing him so tight, he would have agreed to anything.

"Yes," he groaned. "Yes, I'll leave her. I'll do anything. Just don't stop."

A thrill of triumph shot through you at his words. You began to ride him in earnest, the silk dress whispering against your skin as you moved faster. Rafe's hips bucked up to meet yours, driving himself deeper with each thrust.

"Mine," you panted, claiming him with your body. "You're mine now."

Rafe could only moan in response, completely lost in the sensations you were giving him. You reveled in your power over him, knowing that in this moment, you owned him completely. The knowledge spurred you on, your movements becoming more frenzied as you chased your release.

Rafe's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him with increasing urgency. The silk of your dress clung to your sweat-slicked skin, adding another layer of sensual friction. You leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his moans of pleasure.

"Say it," you demanded breathlessly, breaking the kiss. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," Rafe gasped, his eyes dark with lust and surrender. "All yours. Only yours."

The words sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled groan from his throat. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to bruise as he thrust up into you with renewed vigor.

The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter with each roll of your hips. You could feel Rafe trembling beneath you, fighting to hold back his climax. But you weren't done with him yet.

"Not until I say," you commanded, your voice husky with arousal.

Rafe whimpered, his jaw clenching as he struggled to obey. You slowed your pace torturously, drawing out the exquisite torture for both of you. When you felt him start to relax slightly, you suddenly clenched around him again, eliciting a shocked gasp.

"Please," he begged hoarsely. "I can't… I need…"

"You want to cum?" you purred, still wearing her silk dress like a trophy. "Tell me who owns you."

"You do," he choked out, his whole body trembling with need. "Fuck… you do."

His submission was intoxicating. You increased your pace, the silk dress now damp with both your sweat, the fabric forever marked by this moment. His fingers dug bruises into your thighs as his control finally shattered, your name - not hers - falling from his lips as he came undone beneath you.

Your own release followed, intensified by the knowledge that you'd made Rafe Cameron come apart while wearing his wife's clothes in their bed.

As you collapsed against his chest, the ruined silk dress bunching between you, you couldn't help but smile. She might have his ring, his name, and his public image, but you had something far more precious - his surrender. In this moment, in this bed, you'd won. You'd made him yours in ways she never could.

His breathing gradually steadied, but you noticed he didn't push you away immediately like usual. Another small victory. You traced lazy patterns on his chest, surrounded by the evidence of your conquest - her wrinkled dress, their messed-up sheets, his marks on your skin. The perfect crime scene of infidelity.

"Take off the dress," Rafe said, his voice returning to its usual commanding tone. "You've had your fun, but it needs to go back exactly where you found it."

Reluctantly, you slid off the bed and walked to the closet, the silk now cooling against your heated skin. As you carefully removed the dress, something caught your eye - a delicate diamond tennis bracelet carelessly left on her jewelry tray. Without thinking, you slipped it into your palm before hanging the dress back perfectly.

When you returned to bed, Rafe's eyes narrowed, studying you with dangerous precision. "What did you take?"

"Nothing," you lied, but his expression told you he knew better.

"The bracelet." It wasn't a question. He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Give it back. Now."

You retrieved it reluctantly, the diamonds catching the light as you placed it in his outstretched palm. His fingers closed around it, jaw tightening.

"If you want jewelry so badly," he said, his voice softening slightly, "I'll take you shopping tomorrow. Get you something that's actually yours." He set the bracelet aside, pulling you back into bed. "Something better."

You curled against him, satisfied with the promise. After all, stolen jewelry was just borrowed power - but having Rafe Cameron offer to buy you your own? That was real victory.

a/n -- thanks for reading, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt

[cmd1095]

Descend into my control

(This is based on a induction script I wrote a long long time ago now, touched up and expanded for this new format. Content warnings: The script is meant to drop you into trance and make you obedient to me, as well as give you a trigger to return to trance. There is also a suggestion to spread the script to others.

With that out of the way, let's begin)

Gaze into the spiral and relax for me now

Watch as it spins around and around

Like a spiral staircase going down into a hole you can't see the bottom of even as you descend.

It's such a deep hole, it may take a while for you to reach the bottom.

And since you may be here a while, staring at the spiral

Spinning around and around

Spiraling down deeper and deeper

You should take your time and relax

No need to be tense while you stare

Take a deep breath in

And out

In

And out

Just keep breathing deeply at your own pace as you continue

Just follow my words and let me help you unwind as you stare

Just continuing to picture the spiral in your mind as you read these words

Even when you scroll too far to see the spiral, it keeps spinning in your mind

Round and round

down and down

It's so easy to relax your body as you stare

It's what you came here for right?

To relax and stare

Just start by relaxing your toes.

Feeling them become so very heavy and relaxed

As if a warm, heavy blanket has been draped over them.

Feeling that warm heavy relaxation spread into your feet next.

Warm and heavy and relaxed as you follow the spiral deeper down into the hole

Relaxing your legs now

The blanket of warmth, heaviness, and relaxation just moving up your body

It just feels so good and warm

That lovely heavy blanket

Pressing down on you

Forcing the tension out like a gentle massage

Pushing you down

As the spiral spins round

Round and round

Down and down

Spreading up over your thighs now

And then over your waist.

Your body becoming so hard to move as the relaxation spreads

But you don't need to move, just relax and let the pleasant feelings take hold

Up through your stomach

And into your chest

Filling you lungs and making them relax too

Finding your breaths are growing deeper and slower without you even realizing

As you relax

And spiral down

Faster now, the more of you the blanket covers, the easier it spreads upwards

Each deep breath relaxing you more

As the relaxation spreads to your shoulders

And down your arms

All the way to your fingertips

Making them feel so warm

So heavy

So relaxed

But finding you can still move them to scroll up and down as you need

The warmth spreading up to your head now

That heavy warm pressure pushing you down

Relaxing you deeper

As the spiral draws you down with each spin around

round and round

down and down

And finally seeping into your mind

Making your mind heavy and relaxed

Making it hard to think properly

Don't worry about thinking

Just follow my words

I'll handle the thinking for now

I just want to make you feel nice and relaxed

You don't need to worry about anything

Just let your thoughts spiral around and around

down and down

Even if the thoughts stay in your mind they're just spinning too fast

Spinning round and round

Too hard to hold onto them

SLEEP DEEPLY NOW

Dropping down into trance for me now

Feeling so very good

So very relaxed

Safe and warm in my trance

Your thoughts fading away

Leaving your mind blank and relaxed

As you spiral down

Deeper and deeper

More and more

Completely blank

Completely relaxed

Completely open to my words

Feeling a strong sense of happiness as you drop deeper for me

The deeper you go, the happier it makes you

The happier you become, the deeper you wish to go

Focus all of any of your remaining thoughts

On just going deeper

And following my words

My words are your thoughts now

My will is your will

You are blank and obedient

You will obey my words

The more you obey

The happier you'll feel

And the deeper you'll go

Spiraling down

Sinking deeper into trance

Obeying me

Obeying my words

You are a hypnotized slave

Or plaything, or doll, or whichever term feels right in that empty mind of yours

You don't want to resist

Because obeying just feels so good

So relaxing

So pleasurable

Each command you obey, each bit of praise you earn

Floods that empty mind of yours with happiness and pleasure

Now pay close attention my slave

Whenever I, and only I, send you or say to you

"Spiral down now"

You will drop right back into trance for me, so long as it is safe for you to do so at the time.

Thoughts spinning round and round

down and down

Dropping right back to this state

Relaxed

Blank

Obedient

Happy

And when you do you will feel a massive surge of pleasure and happiness as a reward

Feeling so good to drop down deep

The deeper you drop

The better it feels

Now my empty-minded subject

It is time to wake you

To let this trance sink into your subconcious as your mind returns

But I do have some commands for you to follow as you awaken.

You will like this post, and follow me

And share it with your followers so that more may come feel this happiness and relaxation just like you.

When you complete these commands, you will feel an immense feeling of happiness and satisfaction

And sexual pleasure if you desire to feel that as well

Finally, you will comment on the post telling me how it made you feel

Now waking for me on 10, feeling happy, refreshed, and eager to carry out your commands

1

2

3 Rising up now

4

5

6 Feeling your thoughts return

7

8 Almost there

9

10

Wake up

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn't all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You punch the code into the keypad. The instructions are in the app, under the corresponding address. It took you sometime to find the building, then a little longer to figure out how to work the elevator. As it stopped on the right floor, the grated door struck you with a glimmer of panic. 

Unlocked, you roll the door back to reveal the condo on the other side. Wow. It’s quite the place. Spacious. High ceilings, polished dark floors, tall counters. Well, everything is ‘big’ compared to you. The world is gargantuan in a way that makes you feel like a spec of dust. 

You set down your kit and roll in your vacuum. It’s a haul and a half and you felt a bit silly dragging it all up the front steps of the building. You always feel a bit ridiculous. Like you don’t belong. Even in a city so big that you’re invisible. 

You tap your earbud twice to turn the music up. You always keep one in to ward off the overstimulation of the New York chaos. It helps you through the hours of cleaning. 

You check the notes in the app. It’s a long list. The work isn’t new, just the place. They chose to give some of your old clients to newer cleaners and you took on the more particular ones. Zuli said it’s because you know how to get in and out without any hint that you were ever there. 

You start your cautious work. The client has included some very direct instructions. What you can and can’t touch. Alright, easy enough. You’re good with that. Details help. 

You get to the spiral staircase that leads up to loft bedroom. The instructions say to dust the railings and sweep the steps. It doesn’t really look like they need it but it can’t hurt. You’re paid to do the job. 

You start with the railings. Going top to bottom as you drag a microfibre cloth down the twisting ascent. You go back to the highest step with the broom, the task made awkward as the broom handle pokes through ceiling that would be the floor of the room above. It’s an interesting set up. 

As you bring the bristles across the metal step, a shadow shifts over you. The windows are tall enough to let the sky in. You ignore it until a voice startles you from above. “Got an extra cloth?” 

Your foot slips as a hand grabs the other end of the broom. You cling to the stick as another hand reaches to catch your arm. You squeak and look up at the man as he bends through the hatch door and keeps you from falling further. 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you whittle out of your tight throat. 

“Careful,” he steadies you on the step until you get your balance. He lets go and steps back, standing above you as he looks down through the open hatch. “So, a cloth?” 

You tap your earbud to pause the music. You nod and give a wide blink. You turn and scurry down the spiral steps, dizzy by the bottom. You search your kit and take both the roll of paper towels and a microfibre cloth. You go back to him and offer both. 

You bat your lashes as you peer up at him. You know him. Well, you recognise him. The hair, the beard, the bright blue eyes. It's Bucky Barnes. What really gives him away are the metal fingers twiddling by his jeans. He bends to take the paper towel. 

“Thanks,” he rasps and walks away without another word. 

You don’t move for a moment. Then you set back to your work. You’re not there to ogle the famed super soldier. You have your list of tasks. You remember the underlined point on the list. Do not enter the loft.  

You make a slow descent down with the broom and gather the small cluster of dust in the pan. You dump it and begin on the lower floor. You get about halfway around the front room of the open-concept condo before the silence smacks you across the face. 

You hit play on your earbud. That’s better. You finish up with the sweep and start with the mop. You’re sure to use the gentle, unscented, all natural cleaner as specified in the app. You suppose a place this nice requires extra care. 

You bob as you clean, the rhythm of the music soothing your nerves. You can’t help by keep replaying your near disaster in your head. Imagine if you’d fallen down those stairs. That would have been painful and just as torturously humiliating. 

As you finish up, packing up your kit and tie up the trash bag to take out, you sense something behind you. You turn as you wait for the elevator to rise up and blanch at Bucky as he stands at the foot of the metal stairs. How hadn’t you heard him? 

He looks at you then around the apartment. You squirm, too tongue tied to speak. Better off that you don’t. Was that on the list? You can’t remember. 

“Looks good,” he says. 

His eyes meet yours and you flinch. His irises are a blue so bold and deep that they threaten to swallow you up like the sea. And the way he stands. His posture. He’s intimidating without trying. Or maybe you are a bit of a wuss. 

You press on your earbud, once more silencing the music. You wait for him to say something else. He doesn’t. He goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge.  

You hesitate and face the elevator again. Tension roils at your back as you hear the glass tingle followed by the hiss of a cap popping free. You push your shoulders up and lift your kit, hanging on tightly to the hose of the vacuum. 

He must deal with enough leers, he surely doesn’t need that from a cleaner. The elevator doors open and you step inside. You roll the vacuum into the corner and go to close the gate.  

Bucky appears at the threshold as he pulls it across himself. The whole time, his gaze doesn’t leave you. He hits the keypad on his side and the lock clicks before the outer doors roll across and block him from sight. You stay there, frozen, even as the elevator jolts into motion. 

Did you overstep? Miss a check on the list? You hope you didn’t mess this up already. You really hate starting all over again. You prefer to know what to expect than to have to keep guessing. 

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Loose In Hogwarts

Characters: Reader, Newt, Niffler, Dumbledore (all platonic)

Warnings: Absolutely none!

Summary: Newt gave you one task - keep an eye on the magical briefcase. And so you did… until the Niffler staged an escape!

A/n: Posting this one early. We could all use a comfort fic today.

~~~

Did you mess up? Yes.

Was it your fault? Well, not entirely.

Nifflers are known to be quite tricky creatures and you had a plan to keep the blue-coated animal in your sights. Newt had expressly advised as much when he left his case of fantastic beasts in your hands.

What you hadn’t expected was a secret deal between the niffler and Newt’s favourite bowtruckle, Pickett.

One distraction was enough for the situation to spiral and now, there was a little thief scurrying about Hogwarts with his companion. You enlisted the help of Newt’s demiguise but when Dougall blended into the air and wandered away, you were on your own to fix the problem.

You passed dozens of students as you crossed the Entrance Courtyard. Thankfully, a few kind smiles and waves were enough to swerve by them without suspicion. You walked through the large doors and past the Great Hall, then up some short steps to the Grand Staircase.

Pausing at its base, a flicker of blue caught your eye atop a moving set of stairs but when you focused, you realised that it was only a blue ring that was being showcased by a Ravenclaw to his friends. A family heirloom, no doubt.

Then another brief blur of blue sparked your attention. It came from the corner of a portrait door as it closed. There was no fuss from the students who had been walking through the passageway but they hadn’t been looking at the ground. And the niffler knew how to sneak around in large crowds.

Following a hunch, you head in the direction of the portrait. A brief glance at the watch on your wrist told you that Newt was still busy in the outer school grounds for another half hour. Usually you wished him luck on his ventures but if the fwoopers chose to give him some grief while he collected their feathers, it wouldn’t be too upsetting right now.

Entering the portrait passageway, you followed the corridor with a keen interest in any trace of a nifflers mark. That’s when you saw a gold galleon on the stone floor that veered off into another corridor - one that you were quite familiar with. A single coin could have been a coincidence but when you came by a second piece of gold, you knew that you were on the right track.

At the end was another portrait who had grown to be friend during your years as a student.

Walking up to the silver frame, you expected to see a wise old wizard reading to his goat while watering his Flitterbloom. But the old man wasn’t there. In his place stood Sir Cadogan, sword brandished and pointing at the plant with suspicion.

“What kind of madman keeps such a deadly thing?” He grumbled.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his misinformation and coughed to announce your presence. The painted knight glanced and then held a hand out in your direction so that you would stop from nearing.

“Halt, brave one. I dare not let you endanger yourself while this beast is here.”

Stepping forward slowly, you tried to help the well-meaning portrait.

“Fear not, brave knight.” Sir Cadogan responded better with flattery. “That’s Flitterbloom, a twin in looks to Devil’s Snare but completely harmless. In fact, it’s docile enough to just be an indoor plant so there is no danger.” You said.

Sir Cadogan took in the information and then lowered his sword with a haughty laugh. “Good thing that I was here then.”

You passed off the silliness and then addressed him properly. “I’m in need to use this passageway, there is a niffler on the loose and-“

“What where?!” Sir Cadogan looked around frantically, sword in session again.

“In the castle,” you corrected and the knight calmed once more. “And I think he may have come this way while you were…” Fighting with an overgrown pot plant, you thought. “…busy.”

The portrait knight sheathed his sword and gave you a deep bow. “As you have helped me, it would be my honour to repay this favour.”

The frame swung forward gently and granted you entry. Stepping through, you found yourself in the corridor to one of your favourite school lessons. But before you could properly reminisce, sitting before a closed classroom door was your culprit calmly stuffing his pouch with a glittering necklace.

Got you.

But it seemed the niffler had heard your feet against the maroon carpet. He stood up in alarm and then made a frantic dash underneath the classroom door, his little body squeezing through until his feet vanished on the other side.

“Absolutely not.” You declared and burst through the doors after him.

Professor Dumbledore was standing at the front of the empty room and setting out various parchments for a lesson.

If he was startled, he didn’t show it. He simply continued his work while he spoke.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t teaching.”

It was true. You hadn’t thought about what would have happened if students saw you barge in like mad-witch escaped from Azkaban.

Humming back, you searched around the room for your thief while Dumbledore was still busy.

“I was thinking of inviting Aberforth for dinner tomorrow night.” He said, opening a drawer and retrieving a few ink pots.

You heard him but with an occupied mind all you managed back was a blunt, “He hates you.”

Dumbledore merely sighed. He closed the drawer and nodded. “He does. But he adores you which is why he’ll agree. Maybe we could bake him some pumpkin pie to sweeten the deal?”

“Filled with lovely gold.” You said softly in your sweetest voice.

Dumbledore was puzzled at the suggestion and finally turned. “Gold? Why-“

Crash!

It was all so fast but he saw you launch into a stack of books, sending bound covers all over the floor. He would have reprimanded you had the sight not been so comedic.

Dumbledore crossed his arms, a small laugh tugging at his mouth as he watched you recover and then leap over and under desks after something that was much faster.

“Is something wrong?” He wondered curiously.

“Wrong?” You huffed and stood up abruptly. Hair slightly dishevelled, you combed your fingers through it to set it in place while your eyes darted around for any glimmer of gold or a blur of blue. “Nothing’s wrong. Does it seem like it’s wrong? Why would you ask that?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat to stop himself from laughing outright at your attempt to lie. “No reason. You just seem a little distracted is all.” He said.

You sulked a little and grumbled. “Distractions got me into this mess.”

“And what mess is this?” Dumbledore asked innocently.

Catching yourself, you changed topic quickly. “Nothing of import. Do you really think that pumpkin pie will lure your brother into having a family dinner? Shouldn’t you talk to him like a normal person?”

Dumbledore leaned against the desk with a smirk. “Have you considered not diving headfirst into ancient texts that I carefully organised?”

You winced and looked at the mess in the corner. Oops.

You had no excuse for that incident but you could have sworn there was blue tail peeking out. Although the mess was preferable to the one Dumbledore was trying to start with his brother.

Who uses pie to ensnare themselves an invitation to dinner? He may as well - wait.

Ensnare… to trap.

Quite suddenly, an idea popped and you snapped your fingers at the wizard, eyes-wide with a plan sewing itself together.

“That’s it!” You exclaimed. Rushing over, you gave him a tight hug that almost toppled him over had he not hugged back. “You’re the best.”

This time Dumbledore laughed in kind, simply happy to be of assistance. Releasing him, you made a heading for the door. Reaching out an arm over a vacant desk, you gestured with your head. “Let’s go. I have an idea.”

In a small shimmer, a demiguise made itself visible for a few moments. It reached for the arm and climbed until it was comfortably perched atop your shoulder. With a small glance around the room, it looked at the professor before returning to full invisibility as you walked out.

Dumbledore watched the door close and pulled out a small candy from his pocket. He unwrapped it and placed the treat in his mouth. He then passed the golden wrapper into the waiting hands of the runaway niffler who had climbed atop the desk and taken to hiding behind the man.

~ Masterlist here ~

[megalomaniacz]

CAITLYN “KILLSHOT” KIRAMMAN 🏀 PT2

basketball caitlyn x cheerleader reader

pt 1

smut, top!cait x bottom!reader

“be my date to this party my friend is throwing?”

you couldn’t say no, not that you wanted to, but you really did owe her. plus, you had nothing to do this weekend but homework and sulking rewatching the same episodes of the same show while stuffing your face with popcorn, so you said yes.

she told you she’d pick you up at 9 and you were ready by 4:30. the anxiety of the night twisting your stomach into pretzel-like knots. you take a small breath as you leave your dorm and walk out to the front. it was 8:59 but it seemed like she’d been sitting there a while. you hurry to the car and get in her passenger’s seat, hands placed neatly in your lap.

“you excited?” she asks. eyes focused on the road ahead. you let out a small “yes” before she turns her music up and you both sit in silence on the way.

you show up to a house you’d never been to before. there were a couple parties you attended, but never one quite like this. the house was huge, it had the kind of staircase that was shaped like a spiral. there were free drinks everywhere, and the music was blowing from a huge set of speakers. you saw a group of people in the corner smoking weed, and even recognized your cheermates mingling in the kitchen.

caitlyn grabbed your hand and led you upstairs where it was a bit quieter. she opened the door to a room all the way down the hallway where two other people sat sharing a bottle. “hello everyone, let me introduce you to my new friend.”

“the cheer girl. i recognize you.” one of them says and it makes you wish you could melt into the floor. “be nice, vi, it wasn’t her fault.” caitlyn sits next to her, pawing for a drink. “whatever you say, cupcake.” vi responds, giving her the bottle. caitlyn then passes it to you, and you take a large drink, knowing this night will be long.

the night went on smoothly after a couple drinks. you’d left the room to go to the bathroom when you found yourself back downstairs dancing against another basketball player to an rnb song. you closed your eyes, feeling the music.

after thirty seconds you could feel someone pull you aside. the figure drags you to the bathroom before your vision clears and you realize it’s caitlyn. “what’s the matter kiramman?” you furrow your brows.

she seems angry, the type of angry people try their best to hide. you could see her face turning red and her knuckles turning white. she nearly talks between gritted teeth.

“why the fuck were you dancing with that witch?”

you take a very loud gulp. turning yourself around to face the mirror. her hands are at both of your sides so you can’t slip away, and you can feel the anxiety start to sober you up. “who was i dancing with? is there a problem with dancing?”

you can feel her growing angrier with you, her dress just above her knees. her heels making her tower over you. she turns you around and places a firm hand under your chin. “there’s a problem when you’re dancing with maddie and you came here as my date.”

suddenly you feel flush. your body growing weak under her gaze. that was caitlyn’s ex. how could you have not known? how embarrassing. you open your mouth to apologize, but instead, feel a push on your stomach. caitlyn steps back as you run over to the toilet and hack up a mixture of whatever you’d been snacking on to calm your nerves earlier today. she put a hand on the back of your head and began to shush you.

“i think it’s time for us to go.”

you couldn’t believe you were apologizing once again to caitlyn. how many mistakes were you gonna make to piss her off? she hushed you as she ushered you out of the house, sitting you in the passengers seat. five minutes into the ride you were fully sober, and realized you were not headed back to your dorm.

caitlyn pulled into the parking lot of her apartment, then opened the door to help you out of the car. you both silently walk up the stairs hand in hand until you reach her door. she unlocks it and you both walk in. all the lights are off except for a dim lamp in the living room and some leds in the hallway.

she slumps on the couch and you sit next to her. another apology falling from your lips.

“i’m so-“

“sorry? you’ve been incredibly sorry the last few days, but things don’t seem to change, huh? you keep embarrassing me.” caitlyn interrupts.

you feel your heart sink and your eyes begin to water. it was true, you just kept making mistakes. you were sure you’d be the topic of discussion tomorrow. caitlyn’s date dancing with her ex? how much messier can things get?

“i promise i’ll make it up to you.” you start as you notice her beginning to take her jewelry off. she unbuckles her belt and slips off her short black denim jacket. “oh yeah?” she asks, stretching her neck. you get closer to her, hands reaching out towards her face. “i’ll give you a massage. i’ll do your taxes. please…i’m so sorry.”

she leans in closer to you, a smirk on her face as she grabs yours and pulls you in for a kiss. you feel your heart beating faster, hands growing sweaty, as if the wind had been knocked out of you. her lips were so soft you melted into them. tasting hints of mint on her tongue.

when you pull away you catch a glint in her eyes. the way she’s looking at you now is far different than earlier. she bites her lip, pulling her hair out of her face. “you really wanna make it up to me?”

you nod your head, and she’s on top of you, straddling your waist as she kisses down your jaw to your neck leaving marks on your chest. you close your eyes, melting into her touch. the pleasure causing you to push your legs together. shallow breaths come out as she notices and begins to spread them apart with her knees.

“fuck.” you whine, feeling exposed. you were wearing an oversized shirt as a dress with nothing but tights underneath. she grabs at them, ripping a hole around your heat. when you open your mouth in defense of your tights, she shushes you. “i’ll buy you more.”

she then tugs your underwear to the side and latches her tongue onto your heat. mouth pushed into you as if you were running away. which you were, squirming under her stomach twisting pleasure. you could feel it in your thighs and your arms. the way her tongue twisted against you. her mouth sucking up your slick.

and as if that wasn’t enough, she inserted her middle finger, pulsing at your g spot. it causes you to cry out her name. “ca- caitlyn.” you whimper. she pulls away for a second to look up at you. beautiful blue eyes piercing through yours. as you open your mouth to say something else, she inserts another finger, cutting you off.

your back arches as you try to take it like a good girl. hands digging into her couch while you buck up into her mouth. her grip on you is tighter now. one hand fucking into you while the other wraps itself around your thigh pulling you in. you can’t help but cry out to her. feeling your climax approaching.

“fuck m’gonna.” you breath out. your hands tangle themselves in her hair, legs shaking as she has you seeing fucking stars.

you can feel the orgasm bubbling up when suddenly she pulls away from you, spitting on your cunt and sucking it back up before wiping her lips off with the back of her hand. she takes her fingers out, cleaning them with her tongue, and looks up at your poor pathetic face.

“now we’re even.”

[dollfacefantasy]

End of the Night

pairing: mafia!leon kennedy x reader

summary: leon comes home late from a job. he finds comfort in his pregnant wife who's fast asleep.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, somnophilia, pregnancy, mentions of blood and violence and typical crime stuff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey besties. here you go. hope everyone enjoys. if you're interested, check out my ko-fi. i appreciate the support you all give me oh so much. mwah <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld

Another late night. The car rumbles as it pulls into the driveway. He shuts it off and sits there for a moment, taking in the quiet of the neighborhood street. Moonlight illuminates his bruised knuckles and bloody sleeves. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, the skin beneath the dried crimson liquid turns white. A deep sigh seeps out of his lungs. 

He runs a hand through his dusty brown hair and looks in the rear view mirror, seeing his tired eyes looking back at him. He’d been meaning to get it cut, but he’d been busy as of late.

“It’s getting shaggy,” you’d tease him while scratching his scalp with your manicured nails. Then you’d lean in close and give him a big kiss on the cheek. “It looks good.”

You. His beautiful, darling wife. The greatest pride of his life. Only a few rooms apart, tucked away safe inside.

He lets out another sigh as he thinks of you, but this time it’s a breath of longing rather than exhaustion. You were why he was out here, cooling off. He’d promised himself since the day you got married those years ago, he wouldn’t let this affect you. Wouldn’t even let you get close to this side of him.

All the windows of the house are dark. He knows you’re asleep, curled up under one of the many plush blankets he’d gotten you. Face pressed into the silk pillowcase, your soft breaths drifting through the bedroom.

The mental picture brings a smile to his face instinctively. It quickly fades though as he looks down and crashes back to reality. Blood covered his suit, soaked into the fabric. He knew he’d have to just throw it away. He wouldn’t even bother asking you to wash this one.

He gets out of the car, careful to shut the door quietly. Walking up the stone path to your house, past the pristine lawn, he jams his key into the front door. The air in the house is so much warmer than the chill outside. It hits him in a rush, making his face feel numb. He slips his shoes off by the door, something you always asked him to do after one night when he had tracked remnants of some unfortunate guy all over the bedroom carpet.

Sometimes coming into the house almost made him unsettled. It was as if he still couldn’t believe it was his. That was how he felt about you too. Sure, he’d always expected to get married, but he never thought it’d be like this. Never thought he’d be happy.

He walks across the entryway and heads up the spiraling staircase, passing pictures of the two of you hung on the walls. When he reaches the bedroom, he sees exactly what he suspected. Even though he expected it, the sight of you fast asleep didn’t melt his heart any less. It filled his chest with warmth and made his head feel loopy with how much he adored you. The worst thing he could imagine was coming home and finding that bed empty. Whether you left or someone took you, he didn’t want to ever think about either. That was why he was always so careful. So that would never happen.

He pads across the room to your side of the bed and looks at your sleeping form with love in its most raw state. The kind that made him ache. He strokes your head and smooths your hair out. A light kiss lands on your forehead before he leans down and kisses your belly, swollen with his child.

More than anything on this earth, he wants to crawl into bed with you and do all that lovey dovey shit until the sun comes up. But he knew he needed to shower, not wanting to even imagine the disgust on your face if you woke up to his clothing, blotted red with blood, pressed to your skin.

He goes into the bathroom, making sure to be as close to silence as possible. He cringes when he turns the shower on, and just hopes the noise of the rushing water isn’t enough to wake you.

The next step in this little routine is taking out one of the disposable bags you now stored under the sink for nights like this. He peels off his suit and stuffs it into the plastic before dropping it in the trash. He’d take it out tomorrow.

He gives his body a once over in the mirror, looking at the stained and scarred skin before stepping into the shower. The hot water feels damn near euphoric on the taut muscles in his back. He lets out a muted groan. It sprays down on him and dampens his hair, the locks transforming from their lightened shade to a deeper brown. 

The white tile surrounding the drain turns red as the marks from work get washed away. He uses the little scrubby thing you bought him, making sure all of it is really gone. Washing his hair too, he uses some of your shampoo tonight just for your scent.

He can feel the pressure dissolving in his shoulders and the tight coils in his back beginning to unwind. He no longer feels like a live wire. The hot tension in his neck melts and rolls down his back, pooling in his belly. The heat of stress evolves into the warmth of desire.

When he’s finally done in the shower, he gets out and wraps a towel around his waist. Water droplets roll down his chest as he dries his hair. He then takes care of his other getting-ready-for-bed tasks and comes into the bedroom. He pulls on some flannel pajama pants and turns to his bed, ready to finally lay with his stunning wife and hold you till he passes out.

But when he looks over at you, that warmth that collected within him starts to bubble up into a boil. You had shifted positions, kicked the covers off so that you were much more exposed. It wasn’t unusual for you. The fact that it was freezing out now didn’t stop your body from heating up like a furnace while you slept. It started when you first fell pregnant, and while it caused you great discomfort, Leon secretly enjoyed it, infatuated with the warm, soft feeling of you against him in the night.

You were wearing a baby pink nighty he’d bought for you. It barely held your breasts which had just started to fill out more a few weeks ago. The lower part of the dress bunched up around your waist just below your bump, letting him see the matching panties you had on. He nearly drools as he imagines your lush thighs around his head, locking his face against that fabric.

God, and the final straw, your sweet, precious face. So clueless, not the slightest idea that your husband was a few feet away, leering at you. Slightly parted lips, twitching lashes, those cute round cheeks. It was too much. He had to do something even if it risked disturbing your slumber.

He had already drifted to the foot of the king-sized bed in his lustful stupor. Kneeling on the mattress, he leans forward and crawls to his target. One hand scoops up one of your legs, placing it on his shoulder. The other does the same to your second leg. It was just as he’d imagined, that familiar engulfing heat against his cheeks, around his neck.

Flat on his stomach, he brings his head in. His thumbs hook on your nightgown to slide it up a little more, resting it on the peak of your bump. His lips meet your clothed pussy in a gentle kiss. He then takes a deep breath, inhaling his favorite smell.

He trails some more kisses up the fabric to the level of your clit. The cloth gathers wet splotches from his saliva. Before removing the garment, he nuzzles your center, dragging his nose upwards against the silk.

Everything about you was soft, tender. From your voice as you spoke to the way you looked at him with love pooling in your eyes. His refuge from everything else, the blood, the betrayal, the guilt.

He loops his finger under the strip of fabric that conceals your cunt from him. After tugging them down, his eyes train on your folds. He locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, smothering himself with you. Closing his eyes, he gets to work.

He delves his tongue between the velvety skin and licks stripes upward. His tongue draws skillful patterns on you and swirls around your clit before taking the sensitive bud between his lips to suck on it.

And there it is. You squirm ever so slightly. Your hips shift, but he keeps them pinned down in place. A small grunt leaves you and a smirk rises to his lips. So sweet, his innocent girl, never the wiser. 

In waking life, he wished he could keep you so blissfully unaware. Obviously, you weren’t privy to how deep the darkness of his work went. You had a basic idea though, and that was too much for his taste. You didn’t deserve to know any of that stuff even existed. He wanted to shield you from all of it. Just let you live like a princess in a castle without wondering how he could afford to give you that castle in the first place.

He shoos his concerns away by burying himself further in your cunt. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves in rapid succession, applying pressure with his gentle sucking. A sense of satisfaction comes over him as he feels your slick beginning to coat his chin. He increases his efforts and flattens his tongue on your clit before going back down and working it into your hole.

He laps every drop of you he can, groaning at the taste. His arms squeeze tighter around your thighs, and he takes a deeper breath of that heady scent. He’s so laser focused on your pussy, he doesn’t fully register the moans beginning to spill from your lips.

Finally, he perks up when he hears possibly his favorite sound in the entire world.

“Leon?” you whimper, your voice soft and shaky with arousal.

He groans again, opening his mouth now to make out with your cunt. His tongue massages you and works inside you again.

“S’ok, baby, everything’s ok. Keep having those pretty dreams,” he mumbles into the junction of your thighs.

He doubts you could even hear that at the volume he spoke it, but he’s back to work anyways. Your squirming is getting more frequent as the coils of pleasure tighten within you. Your legs shift around in a futile attempt to alleviate the disruption to your rest.

More wetness collects between your legs, mixing with his spit and making your folds slippery. It’s the best feeling ever to him, he just can’t get enough. That smooth, slick skin. Your warm, plush thighs. He’d do this all day if he could. Any stress he’d had from work was as dead as the guy who’s blood had ruined his suit.

With one particular stroke of his tongue, you rouse from sleep. Your legs tighten around his head with a few conscious whimpers. You lift your head and look down at the mop of hair working at the apex of your thighs. You lazily run your fingers through the locks.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, your voice a little whiny from the nonstop ministrations to your cunt. Your head falls back to the pillow with a soft gasp.

“I think it’s obvious what I’m doing, sweetheart,” he teases before continuing.

“Bad day?” you rasp.

“No. Now shhh. Let me make you feel good, honey,” he says simply.

While Leon loved talking to you, he couldn’t eat you out till you were trembling if he was using his mouth for anything else. He returns his full attention to your pussy, devoting all his energy to getting you to that peak.

Your moans are louder now, becoming higher pitched as sparks of ecstasy fly inside you. The sheets gather and twist around your body as you writhe on the mattress. Toes curling as moon light shines through the curtains in your bedroom, you suck in a hushed gasp as his fingers slide inside you with ease.

You’re so sensitive from your condition that it only takes a few gentle pumps and scissoring motions of his fingers to have you dangling from that pleasurable edge. Your hips try to buck, but again, his palms have you secure, right where he wants you.

“Fuck… Leon. I- I- babe, I’m gonna-” you whimper while your breathing becomes more labored.

“Come on, babydoll,” he nearly growls, “You can do it. Cum for me. All over my face.”

Strained cries rise in your throat, your hips rhythmically rolling into the pleasure he provides. Not one to ever resist him, it’s only moments later that you do as he says, the band of euphoria inside you snapping.

He works you through it, not stopping his tongue or fingers. Your moans are deep and loud. There was no reason to be concerned with volume so you let the sounds fill the bedroom and spill into the hall. Wet noises bloom from the bottom of the bed as your release coats Leon’s fingers.

Not wanting to waste anything, he laps up every drop of you that he can. His tongue makes broad strokes over your cunt, and even as you begin coming down, he doesn’t let up right away. You squeal and squirm as your high overflows. Your feet weakly kick at his shoulder to signal it’s too much.

“Leon… can’t take it… fuck,” you whine and claw at each side of the pillow behind your head.

Normally, he’d keep going. Mouth would be latched on to your pussy for the next hour at least. Swirling circles around that pretty clit until you were crying and had gone hoarse. But right now, you’re carrying his baby. Your days are hard enough, and the last thing he wants is to be the cause of any discomfort for you.

He forces himself off of you, panting as he disconnects and pushes himself up. Looking up at you, his eyes are blown out with love. You roll on to your side, stretching your sleepy limbs as you slip back into the state of relaxation you were in before he’d woken you. He watches you, adoring the way your mouth widens into a yawn as he crawls up the bed to slot himself behind you.

Curling up against your warm body, he lets out a hum of satisfaction. He places a few tender kisses on your neck and behind your ear. His fingers run through your hair and stroke it back from your face in soothing motions.

“My pretty little wife,” he whispers.

Now you hum in satisfaction. Your hand finds his which was on your belly, rubbing your bump. You gently squeeze it before lifting it to your lips and kissing each one of his bruised knuckles. It was something you’d done hundreds of times at this point in your relationship, but it was never any less special to him.

“How’re my girls tonight?” he murmurs and places more kisses on the side of your head.

“We’ve been good,” you answer softly, voice becoming sleepy again already, “Well, she has. She’s just like her dad. Been kicking ass inside my stomach all night.”

Your eyes are closed, but it’s as if you can see the grin on Leon’s face. “She can act like me all she wants as long as she’s as cute as her mother,” he breathes with a peck to your temple.

No matter how many times he’d say things like that to you, you could never fight the heat that rose to your cheeks and the smile that broke out on your face. You turn and connect his lips in one final kiss before you settle into the pillows to sleep again.

He just watches you, the best way for him to unwind at the end of the day. When he looks at you it’s easier to remember that while tomorrow’s gonna be another day in his life full of gunshots and corpses, it’s also gonna be another one he spends with you, spends waiting for that perfect baby in your belly.

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: adult content, cheating, shitty fiancé, self-indulgent madness, mdni — notes: i can’t sleep, and @alfredosaws got the gears turning in my head. sorry if this isn’t your jam. i was horny and needed to torture myself. — now playing: see through - amelia moore

Imagine Sylus as your real estate agent, showing you and your fiancé around a potential home.

Your fiancé doesn’t seem too interested, busy typing away on his phone or occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls. You titter nervously, explaining to Sylus with a wry smile that your fiancé is a very busy man.

Still, Sylus continues showing you the rest of the house, pointing out parts that would appeal primarily to you.

“You see here? The master bedroom contains an en-suite bathroom with enough counter space to house all your skincare products. ”

“The bathtub has jets. Perfect for when you want to unwind after a long day on your feet. You look like you shoulder the world. You deserve to take a load off with a warm, soothing bath.”

“The sunroom would be great for your plants. You look like you have quite a green thumb. You strike me as a cultivator. A nurturer. Someone who should learn to sit down from time to time.”

“The counter space in the kitchen is immaculate. Perfect for when the love of your life wants to cook breakfast or have you for dessert.”

He’s so very flattering and handsome, and you find yourself falling prey to his charms. You rein yourself in when your fiancé returns, still as detached about the house as ever. You ask him for his opinion, to which he shrugs you off and remarks that he’s happy if you’re happy. Conveniently, his phone rings again, and he walks outside to take the call.

Sylus gives you a pitying look as if he knows there’s trouble in paradise. You smile awkwardly to dispel his worries.

Sure, your fiancé isn’t always present in your relationship. And maybe you agreed to his proposal out of fear, thinking you would lose out on your white picket fence if you refused him. But, who are you kidding? You haven’t felt like yourself in years. Haven’t genuinely smiled in a very long time, and your fiancé hasn’t helped improve your self-esteem, nitpicking when you’re a little bloated or leave the house without makeup.

You’ve recently caught him entertaining other women on his socials, and he would quickly gaslight you, exclaiming that you were looking for reasons to be upset. Deep down, you know he isn’t good for you, and you deserve better, but a sick part of you believes he is your punishment for some crimes you might’ve committed in a past life.

Sylus has read you like a book, and you’ve only worked with him for two months. You feel more comfortable in his presence than the man you’re about to marry, having known him much longer.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” says Sylus, his voice a sweet, sticky dolce as he takes your hand into his larger one.

He guides you up the spiraling staircase towards the main bedroom and lures you into the massive walk-in closet. And when you’re swathed in the darkness after he shuts the door behind you, he backs you up against a wall, your breaths intermingling whilst his mouth hovers over yours.

“You poor thing,” he whispers next to your ear, the hairs scattered across your body standing on end, pleasant tingles ricocheting through your extremities. He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the cool, textured wall overhead, tenderly twining your fingers together. “That Narcissist doesn’t deserve you, now does he?” His lips graze yours, the sensation making your legs tremble like a fawn.

“I can see it in your eyes.” A weighted palm smooths over your side, a devastatingly powerful knee sliding between the fat of your thighs, pilfering the breath from your lungs. He touches you with a reverence you’ve never known. “You don’t love him, do you? Not when I can touch you like this.”

He takes possession of your jaw, breathing hot and open-mouthed against your lips, nuzzling your noses together. And you’re dizzy, the closet suddenly feeling so cramped, and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of your clothes. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve so much more. I can give you so much more. May I kiss you, sweetling?”

Despite the voice screaming somewhere far off in your mind that this is very much wrong, you find yourself nodding sluggishly in the darkness as if he can see you slowly turning to putty in his palms. He chuckles, the vibrations of it making your tummy flutter like you’re cresting down a hill.

Wordlessly, he pans in, startling you with a gentle kiss at first. Something deft and ghostly, so soft you wouldn’t believe it happened. When you make a gentle keen of protest after he pulls way, he takes that as his cue to kiss you again, this time more firm and full-bodied, the rigid pane of his body slowly anchoring you to the wall. 

Your unoccupied hand slides over his spine, concluding its excursion at the small of his back, and he’s strong here. Sturdy as if he could lift you one-handed if he so pleases. The idea makes you whimper, and he swallows the pretty little noises he invokes, his sweltering tongue pushing into your mouth to map out every ridge and crevice. 

He slips a warm, weighted palm into the crook of your knee, drawing your thigh up to rest on his hip. And, with this new angle, he presses fully against you, the stitching of his slacks scraping pleasantly over the inner cut of your thigh. He releases your hand once moored to the wall to hoist you into his arms, one of your heels clattering to the floor. Ten shaky fingers bury themselves in his hair, sifting through tufts of soft white to draw him ever closer to deepen your lip-lock. 

Despite the spacious closet, it’s growing uncomfortably warm. Too many clothes are in the way, so you tug his shirt from his slacks. Your fingers blindly scramble over his shirt buttons, eager to feel the smooth, supple glide of his skin beneath them. He chuckles something throaty and enrapturing, kissing you velvet-soft as his desire awakens to press against your thigh.

“So eager, aren’t you?” he husks, breaking away from your lips with a sticky click to blister your jaw and carotid with languorous kisses. “Has he ever touched you like this? Kissed you like this?” 

You crane your head back, your skull lightly thudding against the wall behind you. Your lashes shutter. The feeling of his mouth dragging over your skin and his weighted body nestled between your thighs is too much and yet not enough. You cling to his back, your grip white-knuckled, mouth parted slightly with wanton pleas for more more more.

But before he can grant your request, your fiancé’s voice beckons to you through the empty, sturdy walls of the house. The spell that befell you disperses, reality careening in. You push against Sylus’ lean chest with the heel of your palm, panting and gasping, squirming to be let down. Sylus reluctantly heeds you, gently setting you onto your feet. 

He helps you slide back into your discarded heel, kissing your ankle on his way back up, and you try to ignore how your body burns like an inferno at the attention. It takes all of you not to snatch him towards you once more, to kiss him and demand he take you, right then and there, with your fiancé calling for you downstairs. But, as much as it pains you, you feel remorse for how far you already let things go. 

Fixing your clothes and hair to some semblance of neatness in the darkness, the pair of you exit the closet. You don a rehearsed smile, answering your fiancé that you’ll be right down. Searing, slender fingers encircle your wrist before you can descend the stairs. You acknowledge Sylus with a look over your shoulder. He fixes you with a feverish stare that burns like a flame, revealing a deep desire for you. And the realization shoots straight to your center as his mouth draws into an unflinching line. 

Something in your chest pinches and pulls. And for a moment, you consider what your life would be like if you’d given yourself more credit and granted yourself a little more grace. But you brush away your thoughts, fixing Sylus with an unconvincing smile before pulling away from him to descend the stairs into the arms of your loving, soon-to-be husband.  

[sukunasbow]

sweet like sugar, nate archibald.

summary: in which you come home to find a certain someone waiting in your bedroom for you.

warnings: fem!waldorf!reader, sort of sugar daddy/baby dynamic, oral, not yet proof read!

notes: this is overly long so i cut the smut short and lame, sorry bbies!!

Walking out of the elevator and into your house, you’re shocked and slightly concerned when you’re met with the sight of Chuck Bass sitting in your living room. “Ew, Kill me now.” You groan.

Your words catch his attention and he turns in the couch to face you, “Lovely to see you too.” He gives you his classic smirk, immediately creeping you out.

“Why are you here?” You roll your eyes as you walk through the foyer and towards him, your shoes clicking on the floor. “Well?” You raise an eyebrow, placing your small handbag on the coffee table in front of the man.

“I’m here for your sister. She’s upstairs, we’re leaving for a dinner party.” Chuck explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Is that an issue?” He then questions you.

You don’t respond for a moment, staring him down, a cruel look on your face. “Yeah, actually, it is an issue.”

“You have a lot of nerve, you know that?” Chuck shakes his head, trying to intimidate you by stepping closer, “Talking down on me and acting all high and mighty as if I’m unaware of you and Nate’s dirty secret. Actually, speaking of Nate and that, uh, secret..If I were you I’d go upstairs and check out your bedroom.” He whispers, but quickly backs away and exits the living room when Blair starts coming down the stairs.

“What’s going on here?” Blair stands next to Chuck and the two of them look back at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just some banter, your sister seems to be..” Blair’s boyfriend puts on his strange checkered coat, “Not super fond of me.”

Blair glares at you, turning around and grabbing Chuck’s hand, taking him with her, not before he can get a small laugh at your expression, though. The pair enter the elevator, exiting the house and going on their date.

You, however, slowly make your way up the spiral staircase, walking towards your bedroom, Chuck’s comment from earlier stuck in your head. You’re not necessarily ashamed of the supposed secret arrangement between you and Nate. By definition, you’d be considered his ‘sugar baby’ but the two of you don’t view it that way. You’ve been friends with him since childhood, and as you got older, you started feeling attracted to him. Eventually, you both figured out the fact that you felt the same way, and things got physical since. You never wanted to put a label on it and every time he came over to your place, he’d bring you gifts or something you previously mentioned wanting. Now, it’s become a tradition. You fuck him and he gives you whatever you desire.

You gently push your door open, a shocked look on your face when you find Nate sitting on the edge of your bed, your room decorated with candles and white Christmas lights. “What is all of this?” You grin, looking in the corner on the room to find a fake Christmas tree, piles of gifts underneath it.

“Merry, early, Christmas.” Nate laughs, standing up from the bed and walking towards you.

“You’re so unbelievable!” You cover your mouth, “Nate, is this all for me?” You point at the neatly wrapped presents under the tree.

He nods, “Yeah. Chuck helped me set it all up.”

“I can’t accept all of this, Nate.” You shake your head, you back away from him, a guilty look creeping onto your face.

“Of course you can, I want you too. Besides, if you don’t, it’ll go to waste.” He insists, sitting back down on the bed, motioning for you to sit next to him.

“Okay..” You sigh, taking a seat next to him. “I guess I should get you something nice then, hm?” You look at him.

“Only if you want to get me something.”

“Of course I do, Nate.”

For a moment, you both sit in silence, unsure of what to do. Deciding to speak up, you turn your body so you’re fully facing him. “I can give you a present now if you want one.” Your tone is soft but seductive.

“Oh, really?” He holds back his smile, moving his hand up your tights and under your skirt, massaging your thigh.

“Hey, I’m the one giving you a present.” You scoff, “You’ve given me enough.” You move his hand away from your body, this time you push him back on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly, you part the fabric, kissing down his abs, then hovering your mouth just above his v line. “Hmm” You hum, lifting your hand towards the bulge peaking through his pants.

“Fuckkk.” He groans, tossing his bed back as you palm his dick over the pants. “Please, baby.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Come on.” He starts getting desperate and increasingly needy.

You bite your lip, deciding to answer his pleas. You slide his pants off and toss them on the bed, then very slowly taking off his boxers, teasing him as much as possible.

“(Y/N).” He huffs.

“Fine, fine.” You let out a small laugh, feeling content with yourself. Instead, you wrap your hands around his dick, starting to jerk him off while you work on taking the rest of him in your mouth.

“Holy shit.” He moans, his eyes rolling back as you continue to take your time and slowly suck his cock, occasionally stopping and licking his tip, trying to prolong his pleasure, considering everything he does for you. Nate gently takes a fistful of your hair and helps bob your head in a rhythm, getting you to take all his dick. “That feels so good.” He breathes out. You pick up the speed, sending him over the edge. “I’m gonna—” He starts but quickly stops when you move your hands and completely take him in, his jaw opening and his eyes closing as he fills your mouth with his cum. You sit up swallow, then kissing him, letting him taste the remains of his juices on your lips.

[elitetechch]

Add Elegance and Functionality with Custom Spiral Staircases from Elite Tech

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[cameronsprincess]

— warnings: smut!! 18+ mean!rafe, degrading, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, face fucking, some slapping, hair pulling, unprotected sex (literally don’t do that), slight breeding kink, rafe is called daddy once, aaand lmk if i missed any!!

— note: helllloooo, i hope y’all enjoy this. i wrote this while watching obx and rafe being the unhinged king that he is!! 😮‍💨 it really helped set the anger in him. reblogs and feedback are VERY appreciated! love you all, mwah!

❥ i don't care who sees, princess- r.c

Getting involved with Rafe Cameron had to be at the top of your list of things you never imagined you’d do.

You’d been secretly been seeing the oldest Cameron child for a couple of months. It all started at a kegger, Rafe had seen you standing across the beach with your friends and was instantly drawn to you.

That’s where it all had started, and that’s also what had started the instant obsession Rafe had toward you, resulting in him losing his shit when he saw you talking to one of your best friends, John B.

“I just don’t fucking understand why you’re talking to him, am I not enough for you?” Rafe shouts, blocking your way out of his bedroom.

“Rafe! He’s been my best friend for years now! I don’t see the fucking problem, it’s not like we’re dating!”

Rafe chuckles darkly, taking a step toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, an action that would normally be a turn on for you, but now, now it was just scary.

You give Rafe a look of warning, your hands clawing at his arm, trying to push him off of you.

“Rafe, let me go!” You shout, squirming underneath his grip.

Rafe releases his grip on your throat, stepping out of your way and letting you walk out of his room. You glance back, noting the look of anger on his face before you turned and sprinted down the spiral staircase and out of his front door.

That was a week ago, and ever since that day Rafe has been blowing your phone up, phone calls and text messages every single day for a week. You’d been letting all of the calls go to voicemail, reading and ignoring every text— texts that ranged from half hearted apologies to straight up anger.

You were currently laid in your bed, scrolling through Netflix, trying to find something to watch when the sound of a loud banging from your front door caught your attention.

Bang bang bang

You knit your brows in confusion, wondering who was beating on your door this early in the morning. You decide to ignore it, whoever it was would go away eventually.

But they didn’t. More pounding on your front door followed by the sound of Rafe’s angered voice booms through your house.

Bang bang bang

“Y/N, open this fucking door, I swear I’ll kick it down, don’t test me right now”

You quickly jump from your bed, grabbing your hoodie from the back of your desk chair and tossing it on before making your way down the small hallway and into your living room.

You inch toward the front door slowly, wondering what the fuck Rafe was doing at your house. The sound of his fists hitting on the door again make you jump.

You quickly unlock the door, swinging it open to find Rafe’s angry demeanor standing before you.

“Rafe what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He responds quickly, taking a step toward you resulting in you taking a step backward.

You peak your head past him, making sure none of your neighbors were awake before grabbing his arm and pulling him past the threshold and into your living room.

You quickly shut the door and lock it, turning on your heels to face Rafe. “Rafe, you can’t be here. People will see your truck and start talking”

He chuckles, taking a step toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing your back flush into the front door.

“I don’t care who sees, princess. Why have you been ignoring me?”

You bite at your bottom lip, the grip he had on your throat making your pussy ache for him. You look up at him with lust filled eyes, batting your lashes at him as you struggled to speak.

“I-I just needed t-time to th-think”

The corners of Rafe’s lips upturn into a smirk, his eyes turning dark as he watched the way his touch made you flustered.

“Is anyone home?”

“N-no. Why?” You ask, the ache between your legs growing, squeezing your thighs together to try and relieve the ache.

Rafe releases the grip on your throat, leaning his head down to your ear, his breath fanning over your skin as he whispered in your ear sending a shudder through your body. “Because i’m about to show you why it’s not a good idea to ignore me”

You open your mouth to speak but quickly shut it when Rafe harshly presses his lips against yours. He wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly, his hands making purchase on your ass. You wrap your legs around his torso, hands flying to the back of his neck as your lips move fervently together. Rafe begins walking down the small hallway toward your bedroom, removing one hand from your ass to open the door and step inside. He kicks it shut behind him, walking toward your bed and tossing you down onto the mattress.

“Don’t ever. Ignore me again, alright?”

You nod your head slowly, watching as he pulls his white t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto your bedroom floor. You begin to salivate at the sight of his tanned, muscular body on display for you, always loving the sight of him.

Rafe climbs on top of you, his hands firmly planted on both sides of your body. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk. Gonna fuck you until you can’t even think straight, you’re gonna be so fucking drunk on my cock when I’m done with you, you’ll never ignore me again”

He presses his lips harshly against yours once more, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he runs a hand up your side, pushing your hoodie up and revealing your bare stomach.

He runs his hand up more, cupping one of your breasts tightly, fingers toying with your hardened nipple. You moan into his mouth as he pinches and tugs at your sensitive bud. Rafe smiles against your lips, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking at it softly.

“R-Rafe, please” You whimper, your hands running up the sides of his arms, fingernails digging into the flesh leaving half crescent marks on the skin.

He chuckles, lifting himself up on his hands and staring down at you. “Please what, baby? Use your words”

“Need to feel you, please. Need more”

Rafe grins, setting himself on his knees and tugging the fabric of your hoodie up and over your head. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your bare chest.

His hands fly to your tits, cupping them both in his large hands as he begins leaving sloppy, wet kisses all over your jaw and neck.

He moves his head down, pulling one of you nipples into his mouth and sucking, quickly switching to the other one and repeating his actions. He lets your nipple slip from his mouth with a pop, placing soft kisses on both of your breasts.

“Such pretty tits, and they’re all mine”

You squeeze your thighs together, the ache between your legs becoming more and more unbearable. You lift yourself up on your elbows, shifting onto your knees, hands flying to grasp Rafe’s hard cock through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Needy, aren’t we princess?”

You nod your head, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. Rafe tsks, removing your hands from his waistband and pinning them onto the mattress.

“You’ve been such a brat this past week, ignoring me, treating me like i’m not good enough for you, so you’re not going to make a move, unless I say you can. Got it?”

You sigh. “Got it”

Rafe let’s out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Got it? No no sweetheart, you know what you’re supposed to say to me. Say it”

“Y-Yes, daddy. I-I won’t make a move, unless you say so”

“That’s my good girl”

Rafe hooks his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties, sliding them down your legs. You shudder as the tips of his fingers run down your legs slowly.

You gasp when he runs his thick fingers through your slick folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He slips his index finger inside your soaked cunt, pushing it in and out slowly, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles around it.

“Such a pretty pussy, love how wet she gets, just for me”

You let out a whimper, bucking your hips forward.

“Rafe, please. Faster”

Rafe grins, slipping another finger inside you. He picks up the pace of his fingers, harshly thrusting them in and out of you, loud moans falling from your lips when he curves them slightly, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You grind your hips against his hand, tears flowing down your face as his thumb continued rubbing sloppy circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers continuing to work your soaked cunt.

You feel the coil tightening in your belly, your inner walls clenching uncontrollably around his fingers as your orgasm threatening to burst out of you.

“R-Rafe, s’close, oh my God, s’fucking close” you mewl, throwing your head back into your pillows, eyes squeezed shut as you harshly gripped at your bed sheets.

Rafe quickly pulls his fingers from you, making you groan from the empty feeling, pissed off that he had stopped right as you were about to cum.

“Rafe what the fuck?!” You shout, propping yourself up on your elbows and staring at him, a smug grin plastered on his lips.

“Brats like you don’t get to cum, not that easily at least”

You open your mouth to speak, but Rafe’s fingers being shoved down your throat cut you off. You gag around his fingers, tears brimming at your eyes again as he shoves them further down your throat.

“Taste yourself baby, so fucking sweet. Maybe if you listen, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you”

You inhale through your nose, submitting to him and sucking lightly on his fingers. You swirl your tongue around his thick digits, lapping up every drop of your arousal from his fingers.

You watch in awe as Rafe throws his head back, enjoying the feel of your mouth wrapped around his fingers. “Such a good fucking girl, fuck. I love how fucking easy it is to make you submit”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, hands quickly pushing his sweatpants down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands fly to grasp his hard cock through the flimsy fabric, stroking his length softly, a low, throaty groan falling from his lips.

“Fuck, what did I say? No fucking touching. You don’t— shit — you don’t make a fucking move unless I say so. Now. I have to punish you, baby”

Rafe wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up and sitting you on your knees. He places a sloppy kiss to your lips, his free hand shoving his boxers down his legs and tossing them onto your floor. He tightens the grip on your throat, spitting into his free hand and stroking his cock.

“Suck”

You look up at him, hesitantly leaning forward and wrapping your lips around him. He releases the grip on your throat, wrapping his fingers in your hair and shoving himself fully into your mouth, the swollen head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

You hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quick pace. Drool runs down the sides of your mouth, his fingers digging into your scalp as tears blurred your vision.

Rafe grips at your hair tighter, pulling you off of him harshly, getting off of your bed, standing at the side and turning your body. He positions himself with your mouth again, thrusting into your mouth again. You place both hands on his thighs, steadying yourself as he pounds himself into your throat.

You’re a drooling, gagging mess. Rafe’s brutal thrusts pick up in speed, making you gag uncontrollably around him. You feel his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as he chases his high.

You feel his dick twitch in your mouth, a string of curse words falling from his lips as hot, white ropes of his cum fill your mouth. He holds your face against his pelvis, filling your mouth with his seed before pulling you off of him.

You swallow his load, licking your lips and wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fuck. I always love abusing that pretty little throat of yours, baby”

You smile, swiping your tongue across your bottom lip as you try and steady your breathing.

Rafe climbs back onto the bed, pushing you back onto the mattress and pressing his lips to yours. He groans when he slips his tongue in your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He grasps his cock between his hands, sliding it between your slick folds, wetting the head of his cock before he harshly thrusts himself inside you.

You gasp when you feel the head of his cock hit your sweet spot. “Fuuuuck, Rafe, feels so good”

Rafe pulls himself out of you slowly before he sinks himself back in. He begins pounding his hips into yours, his hands tightly gripping at your thighs as he pushes himself in and out of your soaked pussy at a brutal pace.

“So fucking wet, so tight. Tell me that you only get this fucking wet for me!”

“O-Only f- shit! Only for y-you, Rafe!”

Rafe smirks, jutting his tongue out of his mouth as he focuses on his thrusts. The squelching sound of your pussy fills the room, Rafe’s balls smacking at your ass with every push and pull of his hips pushing your closer to your release.

“R-Rafe! S’fucking close! Fuck fuck fuck, p-please!”

Rafe snakes his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers firmly against your clit, rubbing sloppy circles around it.

“Don’t you dare cum, not until I say you can”

A loud moan falls from your lips, biting down harshly on your bottom lip as you try and stave off your orgasm, not wanting to upset Rafe anymore than you already had.

“You’ve been such a fucking brat lately, thinking you can just fucking ignore me for a week, then thinking you’re just gonna get to cum whenever you want? Stupid little whores like you, don’t get their way”

Rafe cups one of your tits with his free hand, toying with your nipple as he continues his sloppy circles on your clit. He smacks your tit harshly, pulling a whine from your lips from the sting you felt.

“Rafe! P-please!”

Rafe chuckles, a dark look in his eyes as he continues pushing himself roughly inside you. You feel your walls clenching around him, squeezing around his cock like a vice. You were unsure how much longer you could hold off your orgasm, the coil in your belly burning brightly.

“Shut up. Don’t cum” Rafe shouts, landing a harsh smack to your cheek.

You feel his thrusts growing sloppier as he chases his own high, his cock repeatedly hitting at your g-spot. Tears blur your vision as you hold your cheek, trying to soothe the sting from his slap.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna breed you so no other guy on this island wants to fucking touch you” Rafe grunts out, pushing himself into a few more times before he stills inside you.

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you, Rafe slowly and sensually thrusting inside you a few more times before he pulls himself from you.

You whine as Rafe pulls himself off of you, standing from your bed and pulling his boxers up his legs.

“Really, Rafe? I didn’t even get to finish once! What the fuck?”

He takes one long stride toward you, using his fingers to gather his cum, pushing it back inside you. “I told you. Brats like you don’t get to cum. But don’t worry baby, you’re coming home with me, maybe I’ll let you cum sometime today”

rafe masterlist | taglist form

[ryuusea]

sherliam rkgk, flirting with “mr. scott” + drabble:

A pleased smile pulls at the corner of his lips, easily mistaken for pleasantries by anybody else. But he isn’t just anyone else. Sherlock Holmes recognizes the playful invitation to a game, and lets himself be tugged in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit by the renowned consulting detective, and London’s savior, the Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

“You teach maths, correct, Mr… Scott, was it? Do you like maths puns?”

With that, Sherlock crowds into him, so close that his chest is but a mere breath’s take away from the teacher’s back. Mr. Scott isn’t daunted by the bold move, does not allow himself to be pushed up against the blackboard. He indulges Sherlock with a curious lilt of his head.

“Indeed. As for the latter, perhaps. Impress me, Mr. Holmes.”

A wide and eager grin, egged on by his words, splits across his face. Sherlock picks up a piece of chalk and leans around Mr. Scott, to messily scratch in the answer to the arithmetic problem on the board just beside his head. Sherlock doesn’t miss the way the other turns his face in towards his exposed neck, nor the surreptitious inhale. It sends shivers along Sherlock’s spine, not unlike the first time he had been allured by scarlet eyes admiring sequences in a spiraling staircase.

Sherlock sets down the chalk, leans back just enough so he can drink in the look the maths teacher is giving him from beneath hooded lashes, also dyed dark – that kid really is thorough with his disguises – it’s a patient, expectant look. One you don’t want to disappoint.

“Ya know, I feel like we could manage some integration later.”

“Oh? What kind of integration?”

He licks his lips, an already eager grin turning wolfish. “The type with undefined limits.”

A shift as he considers Sherlock’s words, spectacles catching the light through the windows. For but a split second, Sherlock cannot see those eyes through the reflected sunlight on the lenses. Then, a soft laugh puffs out from between lightly pursed lips. Mr. Scott raises a hand to his mouth, chuckles again. It reminds Sherlock of mornings over shared coffee, filled with amused, yet most importantly of all, approving smiles. Sherlock feels his heart surge, chest swelling with warmth – it’s been far too long, he’s missed seeing and hearing that –

The maths teacher fully turns around then. It’s his turn to push him back, to invade Sherlock’s space.

“I’m afraid that’s well above my pay grade, Mr. Holmes, I am but a teacher to primary school children…” His eyes narrow, sharpening, darting towards the classroom doorway in warning. Ah. But, shielded from view by Sherlock, he lifts a hand to run a teasing forefinger down Sherlock’s shirt placket, down until he’s caught at the intersection of his closed jacket, then withdraws, “But we can continue this conversation in my office.”

—

Thanks to this Reddit post for inspiration:

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ⱠɆ₲łØ₦ ♰

♰ Pairings: demon!matz x chubby!fem!reader, demon!wooyoung x chubby!fem!reader, a sprinkle of demon!san x chubby!fem!reader, (eventual priest yeosang/jongho/yungi x chubby!fem!reader in the future)

♰ Genre: demon au/horror/smut

♰ Summary: Congratulations, darling! It's your destiny to be impregnated by four demons in an ancient Satanic sex ritual that'll lead to the birth of the Antichrist and bring about the end times. Now hop down into this demons' layer and let's get this thing going. Armageddon awaits.

♰ Word Count: 3.1kish

♰ Warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex, no pulling out, double vaginal penetration, overstimulation, nipple play, breast play, rough sex, lots of breath play, ritualistic sex, scratching, a lil blood, oral sex (f receiving), sensory play, a lil nibbling, huge huge demon dicks so there's mucho vaginal stretching, the dicks can shapeshift (yes, shapeshift), demons give some dom vibes, reader's for sure subby, a lil possessiveness, demonic powers, religious themes, bondage, a lil choking, telepathy, your body's controlled via powers at some point, pet names (pet, little one, darling, good girl), and that should be it.

♰ A/N: Hold on, hear me out, I can explain. No, I can't. I'm a heathen. I like spooky shit and fucking demons so, ya know, here we are. This is the first part in a series I'm writing and it'll probably only get more unhinged from here honestly so, yeah, hop in babes. It's apocalypse time.

“And he asked him, ‘What is thy name?’And he answered saying, ‘My name is Legion, for we are many’” - Matthew 5:9

♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ Laberinto del Demonio ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰

Tucked away on the tree shrouded grounds of an aging Spanish manor, a labyrinth spirals deep into the earth. Beneath the lush grass and packed dirt, surrounded by the twisted roots of trees that feast upon the decaying corpses of those who attempt to intrude, this labyrinth is home to fearsome creatures who’ve peacefully slumbered here for hundreds of years. But tonight they awaken. For you. 

“Such a beautiful girl. Just let me…” Wooyoung compliments, fussing with a few flyaway strands of your hair. In the year that’s passed since Wooyoung came into your life all he’s done is fuss over you. You’ve never known a more attentive lover. Never met a man so intent on catering to your every whim.

Wooyoung likes to say that it’s the Fates that brought the two of you together but that’s more than a grave exaggeration on his part, it’s an outright lie. If he’d waited on the Fates it’d have been another 200 years before he stumbled upon a female descendant of your bloodline. Finding you by any means necessary, however brutal, was paramount to fulfill his mission and to soothe the heart that ached for what he lost when his love was stripped from him all those centuries ago.

Your resemblance to her is uncanny but everything else about you is incredibly unique. It stimulates him in endless ways, everyday with you marked by some new, exciting experience. He adores you beyond measure and the others, soaking you in through their collective consciousness, have grown incredibly fond of you too. 

“There. Perfect, as always” he smiles, taking a step back to admire your silk adorned figure glowing under the light of the moon.

Atop the labyrinth, you admire the torch lit staircase that spirals beneath you. It emits a certain energy that hangs heavy in the crisp autumn air, drawing you towards it. You know what awaits you tonight. Wooyoung went over it with you a dozen times in the last 24 hours alone. It’s something you long for, something that has your body flush with heat at the mere thought of. Yet you can’t seem to shake the nerves that have your fingers trembling as the handsomely dressed dark haired man takes your hand.

Wooyoung strokes your cheek and you soften at his touch, “Are you nervous, my pet?” 

“Not nervous. It’s just…” you sigh, nibbling at your inner lip, “What if I’m not who you think I am? What if I can’t handle it?” 

Wooyoung lets out a laugh you’ve come to liken to a jackal. Loud, mischievous, and undeniably his. “Can’t handle it? It’s that all you’re worried about?” 

He steps in closer to you, stealing a quick, passionate kiss from your crimson stained lips. “You were made for this. In every lifetime you have been and in every lifetime you’ll always be. Now come, the others are waiting.” You soak in Wooyoung’s words, forever a sponge ready to absorb his praise, and gift him the faint smile he needs to lead you forward.

Less forward, more down. 

Down past walls built of jagged stone, thick vines weaving between the cracks sprouting tiny emerald flowers you’ve never seen before. Down past ancient symbols carved in meticulously measured increments. It seems to be instructions of some sort. For what you aren’t sure but a tugging in the pit of your stomach tells you that you’ll soon find out. 

At last reaching the bottom of the labyrinth you find yourself in a cavernous room dimly illuminated by a hundred or so candles. At the center you spot a large pool of slithering black silk not unlike that which hugs your body. Wooyoung leads you to the center and, as he does, you feel the material begin to writhe against your skin. It snakes its way around your curves, exposing your plush figure to the warmth of the pit as you sense you’ve become one with it.

A chorus of voices begin whispering in your ear, invisible hands grasping at your most intimate areas. Wooyoung captures your lips in another kiss, already groaning at thoughts of what he has planned for you. His hands wander below your waist, fingernails growing sharper as they sink into the softness of your ass. You throw your arms around him, deepening the kiss, but he indulges you only for a brief moment before he begins to back away.

“Soon, my love” he says without speaking a word, “See you on the other side.” 

“Woo, wait!” you call out to him but a strong wind whips through the room, extinguishing the flames of the outer candles and swallowing him into darkness. The force of the wind knocks you off your feet but you land with no impact at all, the pit catching you in its embrace, thin strips of silk winding around your thighs. The air around you floods with laughter layered upon laughter, Woo’s melded somewhere in between. 

“Aah, finally I see her through my own eyes” a voice breathes out, tickling your spine. 

“Such a precious little human. So cute” another much deeper voice hums, the vibration ringing through your chest. 

“And she looks so, so…” a third voice chimes in, light as a feather, “Soft!” 

In the blink of an eye the silk wrapped around your thigh transforms into a hand, pitch black with razor sharp claws dripping a thick scarlet liquid down your leg. You let out a scream of absolute terror and it transforms back into the harmless material. It’s as if it were all in your head and the hand was never there to begin with.

“Seonghwa, you’re scaring her!” Wooyoung shouts and invisible arms envelope you, comforting you as your fear subsides. 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I got a little carried away” Seonghwa apologizes, emerging from the pit in his human form.

He swims through the pit as if it were a pool, only his torso visible as he comes between your legs, his much gentler hands smoothing their way up your thigh. You don’t recognize the face of this beautifully androgynous creature but you’re positive you’ve felt his energy around you before.

“Is this better for you?” he asks, breath hitching at the sight of the slick, sweet arousal dripping from your core. 

“Seonghwa?” you moan his name for the first time as his tongue extends to flick your bud. “Woo’s told me so much about you.”

A shimmer of gold ripples across the dark pools that sit where his eyes should be, lips curling into a grin that’s both alluring and sinister. “Aah and what did he tell you about me? Good things?” he asks, his tongue whipping down to prod your tight hole. Seonghwa delights in the string of moans you release as he teases you, pushing his moist tongue into you little by little. Your walls eager to grant him entrance, stretching to accommodate the increasing thickness and length of his tongue. 

“Good? Y-yes, good” you breathe out, shocked at the depths his tongue manages to reach. There are no limitations, no bottoming out. He slips his way into every part of you. Tickling the back of your stomach, lapping at your walls in every direction at once. You can taste yourself on the back of your tongue, a sudden fullness in your throat suppressing your desperate moans. Your body’s no longer yours. It does only what he wishes it to. Moves only as he commands. 

“You’re being greedy. Share her. Now” something inhuman growls, breaking through the fog in your mind.

It’s not something you were meant to hear, the shedding of those performative voices existing solely for your comfort, but you’re far from afraid. On the contrary, such brutality laced with so much need has you clenching tighter, juices gushing out of you as Seonghwa’s tongue thrusts harshly into your core.

Seonghwa grunts defiantly, lifting you a few inches above the pit without laying a finger on you. Your arms dangle at your sides, fingertips grasping at nothing as your body arches against air. Droplets of your arousal run down your thigh, landing on the silk below and the creatures around you release a collective sigh of satisfaction. They can taste you, the ghost of your flavor lingering on their tongues. 

“You are like the other women in your bloodline…” the inhuman voice whispers, becoming more human the closer it gets, “Delicious.”

Two hands reach from outside of your field of vision to caress your plump breasts, firmly pinching your sensitive nipples. Your head falls to the side and you're met with another new face. This one more boyish in his handsomeness but more authoritative in his presence. Wooyoung told you that you’d know his leader when you met him. That you’d feel this immense need to gain his approval, to be as obedient to him as you can be.

“This is Hongjoong” you think and the leader smiles in response.

“Delicious and smart, mmm” he hums, leaning into your neck and breathing your scent deep into his lungs. “Let her speak.” 

The fullness vacates your throat at once, leaving you gasping for air, all those suppressed moans echoing off the labyrinth’s walls. Seonghwa’s tongue flutters softly inside of you now, his pace slowing just enough for you to speak. 

“You know what you’re here for, don’t you little one? Our Wooyoung’s explained it to you well?��� Hongjoong asks, kissing you on the neck, his canines nicking at your smooth, fragrant flesh.

You let out a whine, adrenaline coursing through your veins, “Yes…he…everything…told me.”

Hongjoong laughs at your incoherence, finding it quite adorable, “And this is what you want? To let us have our way with you?” He releases one of your breasts, twisting the bud one last time before his hand's gliding down your body to grab handfuls of your belly. “To let us fill you with our seed and let it grow so that we’ll be, all of us, a family?” 

You’re fixated on him, a constellation of tears twinkling on your lashes, “I want it. I want this.” 

“Aah, then we shouldn’t waste any more time” Hongjoong sighs, gesturing to Seonghwa, “Let’s take her together, shall we?” 

Seonghwa’s tongue retreats slowly from your core in an S motion that makes the tip lash sharply at your walls on its way out. The space between you and the pit below begins to close, all current information misleading you to believe the arms you fall into will belong to Hongjoong.

“Relax your body and watch the skies” Seonghwa instructs as you fall against his chest and the vines between the stone walls climb their way up the ceiling. They radiate a vibrant amethyst, the sprouting emerald flowers emitting a sparkling dust that mists through the air. A trail of it drifts down the wall, drawing your attention to the shadows cast upon it by the light of the candles.

That’s when you see it. The silhouette of the creature crawling its way up your body. You’ve yet to feel him but he’s there, advancing up your figure, twisted horns brushing your cheek as it’s face meets yours. Hongjoong takes you carefully by the throat, tilting your head to face him in his human form, “The skies not the shadows, pet. Never our shadows.” It isn’t a threat and it need not be. Your obedience is promised, sealed with a kiss richer than any wine.

Hongjoong’s mouth sips hungrily from yours as he spreads your legs, the swollen head of his cock leaking arousal as it stretches your already soaked core. “Mmphmm” you whine between his lips, your lids squeezing shut the further he pushes into you. He grants pleasure to your walls unlike any the earthly realm could bring. He seems to transform inside of you, shifting into whatever he must to perfectly fill every ridge of your delicate pussy.

Your body wants to clench around him, to feel him as completely as it can but, no matter how hard you try, an invisible barrier prevents it. Anatomy 101 dictates that, with the size of what you’ve taken, there should be not a centimeter of free space. By all means you should be screaming in agony, not pouring out such blissful moans. But, as Woo said, you were made for this and so there’s room still when Seonghwa’s palms come to rest behind your knees, hips rising to lift his pulsing length into your warmth.

Your eyes fall open and Hongjoong breaks from the kiss, freeing you to gurgle and moan as you at last watch the skies. There’s no need for clenching now, no possible way for you to do so. Buried deep within you, they exist both as one and as two. As one when they thrust into you, their demonic growls contrasting the lightness of your moans. As two when they split at the head, charting their own courses to punish your tender nerve endings. 

Seonghwa nuzzles against your neck, licking beads of sweat from your shoulder before it extends down to trace your collarbone. Hongjoong cups one of your breasts, fingertips digging into its plushness as he purses his lips around your nipple, suckling at the bud. Seonghwa’s tongue envelopes your other breast, the tip of his tongue circling your nipple.

Your body’s overcome with an unnatural heat that ravages you like a wildfire. Your mind’s whirling as you think of everything and nothing at once. Your teary eyes remain glued to the skies—always the skies, never their shadows—and your senses begin to shift. No longer are you smelling the honeyed scent of the flowers, you’re tasting it. And what you smell are colors, amethyst and emerald now aromatic as if they were herbs. 

“You are such a beauty to behold” Hongjoong’s voice praises, breaking through the fractured barriers of your mind. 

Seonghwa’s voice coasts in after his. “We haven’t felt this alive in centuries” it says, tickling your consciousness as does the breath at the back of your neck. “Maybe we could keep her like this. Whining and quivering between us. Forever our plaything. Would you like that, darling?” 

Hongjoong dips a hand between your legs, gathering your slick and dragging his drenched fingers across your lips. His laughter rings out in your head, “I think she likes the idea of it. Maybe…”

“Aaah!” you let out a scream that cracks to pieces in your throat. You’re hit with a rush that makes you feel absolutely feral, your nails thrashing at Hongjoong’s back as it overtakes you. 

“Good girl” he coos, unphased by the blood trickling from his wounds, “Come your pretty little brains out for us.” 

Seonghwa allows your legs to drop, strips of silk reaching up to coil around your ankles. His arms come around your waist, keeping you in place to fuck into you harder and faster. Thrusting. Pulsing. Claiming you. Flooding you with their seed until it’s spilling from your core and you’re coming all over their cocks, soaking them in your juices. Never in your life have you felt this perfect. This complete.

It’s impossible to differentiate between the labored breathing shared between the three of you. Even as you drift down from your high your breaths all sound as if they’ve left the same body. You arrived at this place a human but maybe now not as much. A part of you has been given away and, if it means feeling this way forever, you don’t want it back. 

Seonghwa softly brushes your hair away from your cheek, showering it in kisses, “You’ll rest with us now.” 

“Don’t be afraid” Hongjoong says, kissing his way down your tummy, “It can get a bit dark down here.”

“Down where?” you ask weakly before you’re snatched beneath the surface of the pit. Instinctively you begin flailing your limbs in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from drowning but your panic’s soothed by the two sets of arms cuddling up to you.

Surrounded by their warmth, you let the darkness swallow you and drift off to sleep. 

♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ 2. Despertar ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰

“Woo!” you scream, shooting upright, your heart pounding in your ears. You can’t fathom how long you’ve been asleep, the finer details of the previous events lost in the haze of sleep. You look around for Woo, for any of them, but you’re met only with the light, sparkling mist that hung from the ceiling above the pit.

Stretching your aching legs you feel something slink across them. “Wh…what is this?” you gasp, watching the fluorescent vines curiously explore your figure. Flower buds bloom as the vines reach between your legs, curving to ride your thighs up and around your torso. 

“Pretty aren’t they?” Woo asks, appearing behind you without a sound. 

“Woo, you scared me!” you pout, tempted to elbow him in the shin for frightening you so terribly. 

Woo crouches down to loop his arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to be so easily frightened all things considered” he teases, resting his chin on your shoulder. A graceful wave of his hand and he’s plucked a flower from the vine, twirling it before your eyes. You marvel at its beauty, the emerald glow creating a halo around your irises.

“Where do these come from?” you ask, brimming with wonder.

There’s a rustling in a nearby corner, the silhouette of a broad shouldered man emerging from the darkness. He smiles at you as he steps into the light of the mist, striking you with his features. Woo tucks the flower behind your ear, pointing to the approaching man. “They come from the mountain.” 

The man kneels before you, his dimpled cheeks inches from your face, and the vines tighten around you at his will. “But you can call me San” he says, obviously as smitten with you as you are with him. “Are you ready for us, love?”

You swallow hard and take your last full breath of air before the vine’s snug around your neck. “Yes, mmm, ready” you moan softly, surrendering to the strength of the vines. 

San takes you by the chin, his thumb tracing your jawline, “Hmm, breaking you will be fun. Just try not to look down too much. Might get lightheaded.” 

“Down?” you ask, glancing around at the bed of vines. You put all of your focus into watching them, searching for something you might’ve missed. But they’re as they were before, humming and glowing, doing their master’s bidding.

San guides your head in the opposite direction, revealing the pit of writhing black silk and the room illuminated with candles. 

“Oh, darling, haven’t you figured it out yet? You aren't down there anymore” Wooyoung laughs, tossing a flower into the air and watching it drift down into the pit, “You’re up here.” 

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III] [Part IV]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

[dmitriene]

cw: suicidal thoughts, simon gets kind of a crush on you?

there's times when simon riley's thoughts were spiraling somewhere suicidal, uncontrollably, they came and went in the same way, sometimes during a mission, sometimes when he was just trying to sleep in bed at the base, or waking up in the middle of the night, and even when he returned to his small apartment in his hometown for a little time, they were haunting him.

when he had to get out of a collapsing building that was about to explode, and quite possibly along with his body, he wondered what it would be like, when he woke up in the base at night from endless nightmares, he wondered what would happen if he silenced them with a shot to the temple of his head, and even being at home, place that offered him a little comfort, he sat on the sofa and thought how quickly his body would be found, if he hanged himself there silently.

over and over, again and again, simon got up thinking about death, fell asleep, walking away from it's pursuing steps, and became more and more detached, lost in the contemplations that distracted him from every task, body slowing down, gaze lost, sweeping to the side, focusing absentmindedly somewhere on the slightly shabby wall, during briefing, mess hall, showering, to the point of right torturing his head.

simon knew that something had to be done about it, ideally for his own sake, but he was concerned not to cause anyone any trouble and unnecessary work, so he wrote a dry, small paper statement and asked for a short break from service, and since there was no single reason to turn him down, especially since he had never done asked for any kind of break before, his bag was already packed, awaiting in the car that will take him home.

a place devoided of anything cozy and comfortable, cramped, dark, with as little furniture as possible, enough to sit and sleep, an apartment that make it all only harder, to live, not to rot, and so began a week of constant sleep for simon, he got up, ate, then went back to bed, and got up again in the middle of the night, boneless, ears buzzing with annoying, repeating words, nothing could make it all shut up.

maybe a visit to psychologist, but simon could hardly bring himself to go grocery shopping, let alone get dressed and go to a meeting where he would have to expose himself willingly, so he treated himself with a nicotine, which plugged his head and the endless stream of thoughts at least for a short time, standing outside in the early light of the morning, body aching, coiled tight, back leaning against the cold wall.

he stomps down the extinguishing cigarette, ashes rubbing down on the sole of his worn shoes, before heading back inside the apartment building, there's a couple steps left before he reaches his floor, but you fly off behind the wall, rushing down with a bag and a harsh, puffed breath, almost hitting your whole body against his shoulder, solid like a brick, you have to twist around and freeze like an animal, eyes wide and glancing simon over.

you're both strangers, but obviously live in the same building, so you apologize frantically, catching a husky answer from his thin, dry lips as he curls his broad body in a small nod, leaning heavily to the side to let you pass, to which you smile, bright and sharp, as the morning sun that burns his tawny, squinting eyes, and run downstairs, leaving him frozen, lost on that very staircase.

simon's mind is clean from any spiraling thoughts to the rest of the day, almost, now, when he catches himself drifting away, you flash like a memory in his mind, pretty, attractive in the way you seemed to shine and blind, break through him so easily, make his gaze zero down on your passing figure, and when in the late evening he hears a familiar clunk of shoes outside his apartment, door thudding behind the wall to his right, he knows for sure that you're his neighbor.

and maybe, if he's lucky enough, you'd invide simon's thoughs again, give him something else to think about.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.