#the ONLY way they can turn that around is if they use it for another hen activism comment

[sceletaflores]

couldn't help it, i had to kiss the teacher!

pair: professor!logan howlett x fem!reader wc: 3.6k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, age gap (reader is mid twenties...logan is...his age), gratuitous nickname usage, public sex (classroom), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), an impromptu clitoral anatomy lesson, scent kink, hair pulling, light traces of a foot fetish (i'm literally not even sorry), nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, nat trying to sound smart, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n. a/n: based off of me going to my a&p lab today and getting super bored which somehow led to thoughts about professor logan who teaches a&p…that then spiraled into this very quickly. p.s this is like a t.a!reader not a student lol

professor logan has a special way of helping you retain information...

You've been huffing and puffing for the last twenty minutes.

Logan has been blatantly ignoring you for the last twenty minutes, because that's the only way a man with enhanced hearing can ignore someone.

Blatantly.

He's been at the chalkboard since you came in a little after his last class ended, busy mapping out his lesson plan for tomorrow.

The chalk squeaks rhythmically as he writes, you tap your foot in time with it.

You're perched on top of his desk, different stacks of papers messily scattered all around you like a tornado of ungraded essays and homework assignments tore across the glossy cherry wood of it.

You glare at Logan's back harder, forcing yourself to ignore the way his muscles glide and flex beneath the thin fabric of his flannel with every move. You've got your chin resting on the palm of your hand that's propped against your knee, the other holding a red pen down by your shoe.

You sigh, long and overdramatic, for what feels like the millionth time.

Logan doesn't turn around, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all. His hand hardly even slows, jotting down different tissue structures with infuriating disinterest.

You shift on his desk with a huff, dragging your eyes back to the paper in front of you. You scan over the messy handwriting and tiny diagrams littered over the page as you tap the pen in your hand against the toe of your shoe absentmindedly.

"Knock it off," Logan mutters from across the room, not looking at you as he does. It's the first thing he's said to you since you showed up.

You instantly perk up at the attention, flicking your eyes back to him.

“Knock what off?” you ask innocently, tapping the pen on your shoe harder than before. The tiny 'clack' sound it makes is sharp in the quiet of the room.

Logan finally turns, fixing you with a look that’s equal parts annoyance and amusement. “The sighin’, the tappin’, the huffin’ like you’re a broken radiator. You’ve been makin’ noise since you sat down.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unrepentant. "I’m bored."

He lets out a dry chuckle, turning back towards to board with a amused shake of his head. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

You frown, dropping the pen and sitting up straighter, as if you’ve just been handed a challenge. "You could try and help me," you suggest, gesturing to the scattered pile with a wave of your hand. "You know? Like a good professor would."

"I don't grade papers, kid. That's what you're here for." Logan shoots over his shoulder, seamlessly picking up where he left off. “Besides, I’m good with the chalkboard for now. Better company.”

“Chalk doesn’t talk back,” you grumble under your breath.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, so now you can hear me?"

Logan doesn’t bother replying, but you can see the barely there smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

You scoot forward on his desk, pushing papers out of the way so your legs can dangle over the edge. You swing your feet back and forth, just enough to disturb another pile of papers sitting nearby, watching them slide closer to the edge.

One more swing and the corner of a stack teeters precariously. You bite your lip, considering whether or not to send it tumbling just to see if that would get him to turn around again.

Logan, of course, somehow knows exactly what you’re thinking without even glancing towards you. “Don’t,” he grumbles lowly, a warning.

You freeze mid-swing, but the urge to push his buttons is too tempting. "What?" you say, all wide-eyed innocence, nudging the pile ever so slightly with your knee.

Logan lets out a deep sigh, giving you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes, you know that? I doubt Hank's help nags him half as much.”

You grin, taking that as a small victory.

"I was recommended," you remind him, tone overly cheery and saccharine.

"Must've been desperate," he mutters, finally stepping away from the board and dusting chalk from his hands. Logan turns, crossing his arms as he leans back against the chalkboard, giving you a look that says he’s just on the edge of being amused

You raise an eyebrow, fixing him with a blank stare. "I’ll be sure to pass that along to Professor Xavier."

Logan shakes his head, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “Yeah? Be my guest. Make sure you tell him you’re spendin’ your time testin' my patience instead of your job.”

You slump back on the desk with a groan, head tilted towards the ceiling. "It's been forever since I've taken this class," you whine, rolling your head to the left lazily. "I hardly remember any of this, how am I supposed to grade it?"

"Barely remember any of this?" he repeats back to you, brow raised in disapproval. He pushes off the chalkboard and starts to make his way towards you. His steps are slow, deliberate, like he’s sizing you up—though you know it’s mostly for show. 

Mostly.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, still splayed back on your palms and kicking your feet languidly. There’s chalk dust littered over his chest and the front of his thighs, coating them in a thin layer white. Your gaze trails the path of his steps, a slow smile tugging at your lips the closer he gets.

Logan stops in front of you, his towering frame almost filling your view entirely. You’re able to look him in the eyes perched on his desk like this, the green of them is darker than normal.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes glint with a teasing challenge as he tilts his head slightly, like he’s daring you to keep going.

“You got cotton in your ears when I’m up there talking or what?” he asks, voice dipping lower than before.

Your smile widens, and you shrug, trying to keep your cool under his heavy gaze. “You know I can’t listen to you when you wear jeans that tight.”

His eyes lock onto yours, their usual sharpness softened by something more dangerous, something that sends a thrill down your spine. "Maybe if you paid a little more attention," he says, voice a low rumble, "you wouldn’t need to whine so much."

You roll your eyes, even as the heat between you starts to curl in your chest. "Or maybe," you counter, leaning back a touch more and tilting your head up to meet his gaze better, "you could actually help me instead of being a complete pain in the—"

Before you can finish, Logan’s hands slam down on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours now, that barely-there smirk playing on his lips again.

You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the sharp edge of his stare cutting through your casual defiance.

“—ass,” you finally finish, voice slightly more breathless than before.

Logan just stares at you, the intense and unwavering attention you were itching for earlier makes you want to squirm in place now. His gaze is almost predatory, as if he’s taking in every flutter of your eyelashes and the quickening pace of your breath. 

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down.

You lean forward a little, tilting your head. "So, what’s it gonna take to get you to grade just one of these?" You pick up a paper from the pile and wave it in front of him teasingly. “I really need your help, professor.” 

The word drips from your lips like a challenge, a taunt.

Logan’s eyes flicker with something dangerous, a flash of heat that tells you he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. His fingers brush against the desk right beside your thigh, close enough to feel the warmth of him but it’s still too far.

He leans down slightly, inches away from your lips. His breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting, as the tension in the air thickens.

The scent of him—woodsy and masculine—invades your senses, and you can’t help but feel exhilarated. Your pulse starts to race, a mix of excitement and a hint of challenge flashing between you. 

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut as you lean forward almost involuntarily.

Just as you’re about to close the gap, he pulls back, straightening up with a smug grin.

“Tell you what,” he starts, voice gone casual like he isn’t testing the very limits of your sanity. “I’ll help you.”

You open your mouth, cocky victory speech on the tip of your tongue, but Logan cuts you off.

“Not with grading,” he clarifies with a shake of his head. “It’s more like a," he takes a slow pause, like he's trying to find the right words, "personalized lesson.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse thunders in your ears. "What kind of lesson are we talking about?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but it still comes out breathless.

His hands move from the desk, gliding up your legs until they rest just above your knees, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve ending in your body. 

“Logan—”

Anything you were going to say dissolves into a breathy gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you.

Your thighs clench together, arousal pooling in your panties sticky and wet. Logan's nose twitches, eyes darkening as he scents the headiness of your essence in the air.

His mouth twitches into a slow, deliberate grin as he catches the shift in your scent, the change in your body language betraying your desire. 

His hands, firm yet careful, slide higher along your thighs, fingers brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. The fabric rucks up ever so slightly under his touch, exposing just a little more of you to the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze.

"Real quiet now," he teases darkly, voice husky and thick with tension, his thumbs tracing small, maddening circles against your skin. "Not so mouthy anymore, huh?"

Your breath hitches, a low heat sparking in the pit of your stomach and spreading outward.

Logan's grip tightens slightly, as though he’s testing the weight of your response, the way your thighs tense beneath his hands. He looks up at you, eyes dark and gleaming with an intensity that makes it impossible to think straight.

“You talk a lot of game, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill down your spine, “but I think it’s time to show me you can learn something."

You tilt your head back, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Your body’s betraying you, hips shifting slightly forward, your legs spreading just so, inviting more of his touch—inviting him to make good on that unspoken promise that hangs between you.

Logan’s smirk deepens, dangerously close to devouring the last of your composure. "All you gotta do," he drawls, his breath hot against the inside of your thigh, "is ask for it."

His hands slide up a little more, his fingers catching on the edge of your panties. You can't help the sharp inhale that escapes you.

His challenge hangs in the air, thick and heavy, but you're past the point of hesitation. The words leave your lips before you even realize it.

"Teach me."

Logan’s grin spreads like wildfire, the kind that sparks and sets everything in its path ablaze. His eyes never leave yours, holding you captive as he flips your skirt up.

Something low and gritty tears its way from his chest at the sight of your panties, soaked fabric melded against the shape of your aching pussy. The sound echoes in the quiet room, low and primal, stirring a deep thrum of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He shoves his way between your thighs, spreading them even further to make enough room for the width of his shoulders.

"You're a smart girl," Logan says easily, leaning down to trail kisses along the skin of your inner thigh, just inches from where you really need his mouth. "You should be able to tell me what tissue this is made of."

He dips his head, trailing his nose along the soaked fabric of your cotton panties until it nudges against your clit.

"Logan, I– ah!”

A sharp slap to your thigh cuts you off, pinpricks of pleasure making you cry out as they bloom red across your skin.

“Is that what you call me?”

It takes a second to click in the haze of your mind, what he’s asking for. When it finally does, you're whole body shivers, a broken moan falling from your lips as you take in the expectant look in Logan's eyes.

Your mind whirls, but the answer tumbles from your lips like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

"Professor," you gasp, voice soft and laced with need.

Logan's grin is devilish, hands gripping your hips tight enough that you can feel the strength behind them.

"Good girl," he growls, voice thick with approval, the heat in his gaze burning you from the inside out. 

You let out a soft whimper, hips instinctively tilting toward him, silently begging for more. But he doesn’t move. Instead, his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you firmly in place.

“Uh-uh," he rumbles, his mouth inches from you, but not close enough to touch. "You know how this works. You haven’t answered my question."

You can’t respond, silent as you stare down at Logan, wide-eyed as your mind races for anything to say that’ll get him to keep going.

"Come on, baby," he urges, thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin. "Just tell me somethin' smart, I'll give you what you want."

You try to focus, try to remember something—anything—about what he taught in class. But all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your thighs, the heat of his breath, the maddening nearness of his mouth.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your panties, just shy of where you need him most, and you can't help the frustrated groan that escapes you.

“What's sweet thing made of?" He nudges the soaked fabric against your clit again, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"Fuck...erectile tissue," you manage to breathe out, mind fogged as you claw for the right answer. "But it's—it's surface is covered in epithelial tissue."

Extra credit.

Logan hums, the sound low and approving. 

"Very good," he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your panties, pushing the fabric aside. The first touch of his fingers against your bare skin sends a shiver of pure pleasure through you, your body arching off the desk in response.

His fingers tease along your slit, and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to spill out. Logan watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he spreads you open with his fingers, exposing the slick heat between your legs.

Your back arches off the desk with a loud moan, hands gripping the edge hard enough that your knuckles turn white with it. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, sliding his index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. “This is all for me? This pretty pussy all wet for your professor?

He presses a finger against your entrance, teasingly pushing just the tip inside before pulling back, relishing the way your body instinctively arches toward him.

You shake your head, peering down at him with glassy eyes. “You were never my professor,” you shoot back breathlessly, unable to keep from pushing against him even now.

Logan hums absentmindedly, eyes glued to the space between your legs. “Lucky you,” he drawls, sinking two fingers inside you without warning.

Your head falls back with a cry, thighs tightening around his shoulders as sparks go off at the base of your spine. 

“Now, tell me how you feel,” Logan prompts, his voice gravelly and filled with that dark, teasing edge. His fingers glide up, slick as they draw tantalizing circles over your clit that set your nerves ablaze.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, embarrassment mixing with arousal as you wrestle with the overwhelming sensations. “I—uh,” you stammer, trying to organize your thoughts, but they slip away like sand through your fingers. “I feel–ah!…good.”

Logan lets out a chuckle. “Good, huh? Just good? You can do better than that. Don't get shy now, baby.”

His hand speeds up, the lewd noise of your slick pussy fills the room with each thrust. “What’s it feel like when I’ve got my fingers in you, hm?”

The dam breaks inside of you, all the embarrassment leaving your body as your hips start rocking down against him lightly.

“Feels so good,” you slur, head lolling to the side to watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Your fingers feel so good in me, professor.”

You’re playing with fire and you know it, but when your eyes slip down his body to find the hard imprint of his cock more than visible through his jeans, you can’t help yourself.

You slide your foot up his toned thigh until the chunky sole brushes against the tented denim.

Logan’s eyes flutter shut for just a second, his grin turning almost feral as he feels the pressure of your foot against him. His hips rock forward slightly, just enough to acknowledge your touch.

“You’re pushin’ your luck, kid,” he bites out, voice rough as gravel, but there's a thread of amusement running through it—like he’s enjoying this game just as much as you are.

You give him a slow, languid smile. "Maybe I like pushing," you breathe, dragging your foot up and down the length of him slowly.

Logan groans darkly, sliding his fingers out of you in one slick motion that makes you whine in protest. His hand moves to grip your ankle, firm but not painful, keeping you pressed against his cock. 

“God, you smell so fuckin’ good,” he says quietly, the words passing through his lips like he couldn’t hold them in anymore. He brings his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan. 

"Taste even better." His voice is rough, filled with desire that matches your own. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily, begging for more.

His grin widens, and finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, he gives in. Logan lowers his head, his mouth pressing against your clit in a slow, deliberate kiss that has your back arching off the desk, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you guide him closer, urging him on. His tongue flicks against your clit expertly, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin with every drag of his head. The heat builds in your core, faster than you can control, a coil winding tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

Your body feels like it’s been set on fire. The heat builds in your core, faster than you can control, a coil winding tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap. 

“I—I think I’m going to—” you stammer, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he picks up the pace, fingers moving faster.

“Tell me,” he growls, the rumble of it vibrating against your clit as he holds your gaze, plunging his fingers back inside of you. “I want to hear you say it.”

“God, Professor! Fuck, Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body trembling, ready to explode. Your pussy weeps around the stretch of his thick fingers, soaking his hand and his wrist with your wetness.

"Atta' girl," he growls, pressing his thumb over your clit to send a jolt of ecstasy through your core. "Makin' a fuckin’ mess all over my desk, just like that.”

He leans in, wrapping his mouth around your clit and sucking while his fingers keep up their relentless pace. With barely any pressure, he drags the harsh edge of his teeth over your clit and sends you tumbling over the edge, your body arching into his mouth as you come. 

The sheer force of it has your whole body tensing, your foot pressing on the clothed length of his cock harder than before. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as his hips buck up against the heel of your shoe. 

As you ride the waves of ecstasy, Logan’s eyes stay locked on yours, watching. Greedy eyes taking in every detail of your face, every moan and whimper that falls from your slick lips, every tremor of your body.

He doesn’t relent, his fingers working you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, heart racing, and utterly spent. 

As you come down from the high, you glance at him, chest heaving with exertion. 

Logan’s already looking at you, his gaze has a little more softness mixed in with the heat still simmering. He drops one last kiss to the slick skin of your thigh before pushing your foot off his lap and standing. His lips and chin glistening with your release, that cocky smirk still firmly in place as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Your eyes fall to where he’s still hard and tenting the denim of his jeans, pre-come leaking from the tip to stain the fabric darker.

“Ready for another one,” he whispers, leaning in close. His lips brush over yours, hips slotting between your thighs to grind the hard length of his cock along your sensitive pussy.

You can’t help the smug smile that takes over your face, your arms raising up to circle around his neck. Your eyes trail along the boards forgotten lesson plan over his shoulder, to the papers that were sitting on his desk scattered on the hardwood. 

Your legs circle his waist, draagging him closer.

"I think so."

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[entitled-fangirl]

War prize.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: The North hates Cregan's wife and shows it rather harshly. Cregan is there to tell them off.

Warnings: violence, sexism, talks of losing virginity unwillingly, the poor reader just going through it😭

A/n: My writing is kinda eh on this one but I got it done which is all that matters. Huge italicized sections mean like a little flashback in case you needed to know that. Based on an ask!

Masterlist

........................................................

She watched her guard lock the door behind him.

How long had she been stuck in this castle?

She felt used. Taken as a trophy and nothing more. Purely a way to show status.

Purely a way to show who won the war.

Cregan Stark had won the war. And now she was his.

He was kind and caring, quick to compassion and slow to anger. If not for the others, she could've seen this as a happy marriage.

But the others made that impossible.

For the door was not locked to keep her in, but to keep others out.

Cregan saw the very actions his people tried against her, and he was concerned. 

It didn't help that all of her dresses were green. A reminder of what had come to pass.

Anytime Cregan's back was turned, something happened to her. Whether it was harsh words, spitting at her feet, or even once a manhandling that almost turned into a mob.

Cregan knew she deserved better. She was kind. He hardly believed her to be a Hightower. At first glance that day in the Keep, he thought perhaps she was Aemond's wife, or another one of Aegon's whores he had always kept around.

But no. Aemond's twin sister.

…

He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness when two men threw the woman to the ground in front of him.

Her dress was torn in places. Her hair was tangled and dirt ran from her temple to her chin, clearly having been thrown around a lot. She wiped the falling tears from her face with bruised hands. 

"What is this?" He asked the men. Others began to crowd around them to see what would become of her.

The men had only seen prostitutes along the path from the North to the Keep, and even those were few. Seeing a highborn lady was a rare sight.

"Found her hiding away," the man on her right commented.

Cregan sighed and reached down, pulling her chin up so he could look at her. He tipped her face from side to side, observing her. "And what did you hope I'd say when you threw a princess down at my feet? Did you expect me to reward you?"

The man paled. "Well, this is a traitor, my lord. Surely-"

"-Her only crime was the womb she was born from."

"She wear their colors still, Lord Stark-"

"Is she? I can hardly tell under the mud you've drug her through." He huffed, "I want you two out of my sight."

They looked at one another and nodded, moving to pick up the girl again. She jerked back in fear. 

"Leave her," he grumbled. "Well? Be gone. All of you!"

Slowly, they filed out of the room. "Are you gravely injured?" He asked softly.

"Not particularly, my lord," she whimpered.

He sighed and bent at the knee, joining her on the ground. "Did any of them truly put their hands on you? More than to drag you here?"

She wiped her face again, "Are you hoping to take my innocence, my lord?"

A noise involuntarily left his throat. "What?"

"I… It is yours. Just please don't harm me," she sniffled.

Any motion he made to comfort her, he pulled away as if burned. "I'm not going to do that."

"No, no please don't leave me to them," she begged when he pulled away. "Please don't let them have me. I'll do anything."

"They won't have you," he tried again. "Nothing more is going to happen to you. Now, go get redressed and come back. You're not leaving my side until I get this situated."

…

After a few hours, Cregan unlocked the door and entered their shared chambers. "My love?"

He cursed under his breath when he noticed she had fallen asleep on the bed. He wouldn't have been so loud had he known.

He sat on the bed and brushed her hair from her face. "Wake up, dear wife."

She hummed in discontent.

His lips pulled into a thin line. Things had gone especially wrong lately and it had begun to show in her actions. 

"C'mon." He began to pull her up. 

She whined and began to lean into him, tucking her face into his neck.

He chuckled, "I have something for you."

Her eyes opened, "Oh, do you?" 

…

There was outrage when Cregan took her as a wife. The North fought against the idea of having a Southern traitor as their Lady.

He had promised King Aegon III to be fair and just, and the boy said okay, knowing that he would stay honest to his word. 

But the North hated her all the same.

Cregan never considered to fear for her safety, for she was the Warden's wife, and he thought the people would know better than to touch her. 

That, and she hadn't told him of the things said right to her face when he wasn't around. She figured he knew. 

They walked through the city, her arm in his as he showed her around. She took in every sight she could, entranced by the culture of the North. 

But that also welcomed the stares.

Cregan had noticed them immediately, and he flipped her hood up. He didn't care about them, but he knew she would. So by doing so, he was hoping it would bring her a little more comfort. 

Anyone in Westeros would recognize that silver hair.

He leaned down just a bit. "Just tell me when you grow tired or cold."

She nodded, "May I go explore?"

He smiled, "So eager to get away from me?"

"No," she corrects.

"I'm only jesting. Go on."

She grinned and began to look around, trying to decide where to go first.

"Don't wander off too far," he remarked as he moved towards a lord to chat.

She nodded and went, walking a little further down the road. She looked back occasionally to make sure she was still in his line of sight. In doing so, she bumped into a woman harshly.

Y/n pulled back and apologized. "Forgive me!"

The woman set her basket down and straightened her skirt. "Foolish girl. Watch where you step next time."

"I do apologize." She dug in her pocket, pulling out a few coins. "Here. For your trouble."

The woman's eyes widened. She pulled the coins from her hand accusingly. "Where did you get these?" She hissed.

"Well… I… just from…" she turned back to where she could see Cregan. 

The woman grabbed her arm. "Did you steal these? Tell me where."

She jerked against the woman's movements. "No. No, I didn't."

"My lady, is this girl bothering you?" A tall man interfered, helping the woman.

The woman tilted her head, "She's throwing around coins like she's something of value. Look at 'er."

The man eyed her and reached up, pulling the princess' hood down. Their eyes widened. 

She turned to try to catch Cregan's attention, but the man pulled her to him. "A Targaryen, eh? The usurper's bitch sister, aren't you?"

"Please let me go," she whimpered.

"A green traitor in Winterfell? Seems the rumors were right."

She tried to pull her arm away, "Unhand me."

"Shut it, traitor scum."

"CREGAN!" She yelled out of instinct.

Cregan's head snapped immediately, his heart dropping to his stomach. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find her amidst the people that had begun to gather. But he couldn't see her. His worry grew and he began to step out into the crowd in hope of finding her.

She fought against the man's grip. She remembered this feeling of helplessness from only weeks before. "Stop! Please… Please, I'll do anything! Just stop!" 

Anyone around them was stopped now, onlooking or shouting at what was going on.

Cregan's jaw set as he figured she was in the midst of it, and he rolled his shoulders back.

"CREGAN!" He heard again, and that was all he needed.

He began to shove people to the side in an attempt to move through the mob that had begun to form. His angered shouts were drowned out.

Luckily, the Northern Warden was burly and built like a wall, so he was able to work through the crowd by sheer force alone. 

Once towards the middle, he finally saw her. 

The man held her tightly by her silver hair. Her hands were trying to lighten his harsh grip on her as she cried. She couldn't stop the others’ hands from pulling at her skirt or the way they spit at her, but she could at least try to stop the pain erupting from her scalp.

"ENOUGH!" Cregan yelled. He finally made it to them, and his hand gripped the man's throat tightly and he leaned down to his ear. "Unhand her."

She sunk to the ground and clutched at her dress.

Cregan kept his hand firm but looked out at the others that still surrounded them. "Leave." he growled through his teeth. "All of you." When no one moved, he threw the man to the ground and turned to them in rage. "LEAVE!"

One by one they left quietly. He looked down at the man. "May the gods have mercy on you, for I have none."

…

"Keep your eyes closed," he chuckled when she almost stumbled. "I've got you."

"How far must we go?"

"Almost there, I assure you."

After a while, he finally sat her down and instructed her to hold on her arms.

A heavy weight was placed in them. Something soft. Something moving.

"Open."

"A dire wolf?" Her eyes widened.

"Mere pup now, but a mighty predator later. I felt I owed you one."

She frowned, "You don't owe me a thing. I… I feel as if I owe you."

He couldn't stop a bright laugh from escaping his throat. "Hardly."

"Cregan," she began, trying to ignore the way the pup cuddled into her for warmth. "You have saved me time and time again. Without you, I would be in some brothel, or maimed by a man without heart, or…" her voice faltered, "Paraded through King's Landing as a true war prize. But I am not. I'm your wife instead. That is a fate I did not deserve."

"But I failed you. I promised to protect you, but I find that I cannot do that as well as I had hoped. This war was hard on my people. While I cannot fault them for their anger, it is wrong to use it on their Lady of Winterfell." His voice grew persistent. "You are mine. You are no Hightower anymore. You and I both know that."

She nodded and began to pet the wolf. "I pray that the North does one day."

"They will," he confirmed. "I shall make them if I must."

"I just don't want to be stuck in this room anymore. These walls are driving me mad," she admitted.

He sighed. "I'm sure they are. But soon you shall have a protector for when I cannot be there." He leaned down at pet the small pup on her lap. "This too will pass eventually."

"Once I give you an heir?"

"Once we have a child," he corrected, "I'm sure they shall be lighter on you."

"And until then?"

He smiled sweetly, "I'll do all I can. Now." He brushed hair from her face. "Please say you like it," he said as he looked down at the pup.

Only then did she let herself truly consider that she now had a dire wolf. "It's beautiful. I just…"

He held a finger up, "Enough of that. I promise you that I and this pup will not let another hand touch you."

She flushed lightly and smiled. "Thank you. I do not say that enough."

He shrugged. "You do, it just usually looks like other things instead."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he looked down at her dress, "wearing the dress that I had made for you is a thank you in and of itself. Blue suits you well. I could name things for all eternity. You are a perfect wife. And I admire you greatly."

"You've only known me seven moons."

"And that is seven moons enough to know."

"Cregan, I am a trophy of your accomplishments."

"You are hardly that."

She sighed, "But that is what they see me as."

"Do I?"

She considered his question. "I don't believe so."

"Then does it matter? I respect you, and with time, I will make sure they do as well."

She nodded and adjusted the dog in her arms. "Very well. I trust you."

He smiled and stood. "That's all I ask for. Now, name your pup and dress for supper. I'll come collect you myself. Is that alright?"

She nodded again.

"The North will like you," he left off with as he closed the door behind him.

She heard the lock behind him.

In time. 

In time.

Either they learn to like her, or they shall meet a Stark dire wolf closely.

The actual dire wolf or Cregan Stark, it didn't matter.

Their jaws would both equally snap at any threat.

.................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[romanceyourdemons]

it’s a pretty well-known phenomenon that you only get a couple seconds with your horror creature fully visible onscreen before it gets “chuckied,” a term coined by yours truly referring to the shift between the first and second acts of child’s play (1988) as the audience gets used to seeing the little chucky puppet moving around and consequently can no longer buy into the film’s serious slasher tone in the absence of the horror of the unknown. the tuunbaq in the terror and the dogomorph in alien 3 (1992) are also famous victims of chuckying—just like how lovecraftian horror usually falls flat on the screen, too much visibility and your scary, amorphous creature will become a very morphous puppet or cgi’d in picture. the easiest way to combat this is of course to keep the creature obscured for as much of the piece as possible; for instance, despite their oppressive presence throughout their respective works, the beast in over the garden wall is shown for less than six frames and the eponymous kaiju of cloverfield (2008) is never properly shown, allowing each to retain their mystery and danger. another route is to simply lean into the campiness of it, like the later child’s play franchise and alien resurrection (1997). in the case of the blob (1958) a mere satirical title sequence song is enough to completely transform a fairly standard creature feature into an enduring masterpiece of hokey fun. the third option to combat chuckying is for the horror creature to constantly transform—the thing (1982), the fly (1986), and aliens (1986) show their creatures in loving detail, but there is always something the audience hasn’t seen yet, something they don’t know to brace themselves for. it’s a fine line to walk, of course, but that’s the nature of the game when you want to turn the concept of the unknown into something knowable enough to bite you

[sugurouge]

— can you try me? nanami kento x f!reader

summary: after a rough day, there's only one solution to kento's pent up frustrations

content warnings! smut, pet names (little devil, perfect / good girl), dirty talk, reader gets carried around and manhandled, wall sex, teasing, size difference, praise, one or two spanks

wordcount: 3.2k

Days like these are the worst, Nanami thinks once he closes the door to your apartment and allows himself a moment of breather. He can already hear your favourite creator talking in the living room, the sound of the TV mixing with your clueless giggles to leave no room for Kento’s tired sounds to arrive in the next room.

The best course of action is to shed himself off his belongings and make his way over to the kitchen. The ghost of his tall figure dances in your peripheral vision, luring you in to immediately get up to follow your grumpy-cat of a boyfriend towards his desired destination—the stash of treats hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets.

“Oh, oh, somebody had a rough day…” you conclude upon his silent search for something sweet. He can’t help but feel caught red-handed. So Nanami only leans back for his head to pop up behind the door, tired eyes swiftly roaming over your figure before his attention gets redirected towards the treasures inside your cabinet. “Yeah,” is his quiet reply, and the crinkle of wrapping paper follows suit.

You won’t even attempt to hide your chuckle upon his little pick-me-up ritual, you’re too used to him being a softie by now. “What about having proper dinner instead of sweets, Kento?” you propose while you stalk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist as you place a chaste kiss on his back.

He cringes at the drawl of his name, well aware of how counterproductive and immature his cravings for sweets as comfort are, yet plops another chocolate in his mouth. “Maybe later.”

How a man his height frees himself that quickly from your hug always leaves you dumbfounded, but you let him play his game of hard to get. “Well, anyway… I’m going to continue watching that travel series, feel free to join me,” you tease, knowing exactly that he can’t resist the temptation.

But at least you give him some time and space as you’re sat on the couch. Nanami continuously fiddles with the wrapping paper of his recent chocolate while his attention lingers on the screen, eyes glued to the TV and the heavenly beach scenery. He definitely needs to book a vacation with you soon.

You close the gap between your bodies over the course of the night, slowly shuffling towards his figure as you adjust your sitting position. From leaning against the arm of the couch to sitting cross-legged and finally, carefully, your fingertips brush over his hand once you lean your head against his shoulder. You feel a soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head and smile to yourself, hiding your face behind the firm muscles of his biceps. “Meanie,” you mumble, and your eyes peek up to his face.

Nanami’s head is already turned towards you, a certain gentleness lingers in his eyes that are illuminated by the TV screen as they meet your curious gaze. “Come here,” is his demand while his hand already holds the back of your knee, to swiftly pull you on his lap to straddle him.

Your arms find rest around his neck to allow yourself to bask in his scent, the lingering fragrance of his body wash calming you down as you place soft kisses on his cheek. The gentle pressure applied on his neck by your fingers tempts Nanami to close his eyes, his arms moving to rest around your waist, pulling you in for a close hug. “Wanna talk about it?” you question with a soft voice. The use of your fingernails on his scalp sends shivers running along Kento’s spine.

“No…” Nanami starts but interrupts himself with another sigh, “maybe later. I don't want to burden you with troubles you cannot help me with.” You gently cup his face and redirect his gaze to meet yours, hoping for him to notice the love pooling in your tender gaze. “You’re the best,” the words are whispered against his lips, yet you don’t fully close the distance to let him decide the course of the evening.

Don't play games with him tonight.

You feel his fingertips dance upward your spine to cradle the back of your head and let his lips crash with yours. He’s so greedy, so needy for love, you can tell by the way he prolongs the kiss until he nearly runs out of breath.

And despite enjoying these types of kisses more than anything, you break away. A slightly annoyed groan slips past his lips while his arms return to lay around your waist as his forehead rests against your shoulder. Once this man gets a taste, he turns greedy; you’ve learned that this not only applies to sweets—but to you as well.

So he tries once more. Kissing you once more; ever so gently while thumbing your cheek. Nanami’s soft lips mould against yours as your tongues meet between parted lips at such an awfully slow pace, he can practically feel you grow needy in his hold. His teeth nibble on your lower lip, tugging on the sensitive flesh before pulling on the soft flesh. Tender eyes immediately meet yours, lust hidden in both pairs as you stare at each other. “I missed you a lot today,” Nanami murmurs, while featherlight touches explore your sensitive body. His kisses roam along your neck and the burning trail of his fingertips flows along your calves and thighs.

“I missed you too,” you exhale, craning your neck for him as your eyes fall shut, fully basking in the he addictive feel of his touch ruling over your body and mind.

The whispered demand of “tell me what you want,” sends goosebumps to spread over your skin. Long fingers pull the straps of your top and bra off your shoulder, allowing Nanami’s lips to fully explore your collarbone and litter kisses along your body like you’re his favourite candy. The rough pads of his tongue wet your skin as he licks over the irritated areas where he previously sucked.

“Is it—, is it weird if I just… just want you to use me tonight?” Nanami curses beneath his breath, and you feel his grip on your body tighten, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he hums in reply, head dipping lower until his bangs tickle your collarbone.

His kisses lead to your chest, where he tugs at the hem of your top to further expose your breasts. “You wear so much… how do you expect me to spoil you like this?” he complains with a trace of irritation in his voice. His hands dip beneath the hem of your top and tease your skin. “Be good for me and take it off.”

Yet his patience seemingly runs thin as he already lifts the fabric to expose your figure, carelessly throwing the top over his shoulder as his lips immediately attach to your chest once more. Sloppy kisses cover your skin until he arrives at your breasts, his hands gently squeezing your soft mounds above your bra—desiring to hear your moans for him as his teeth graze the sensitive skin.

With his warm palm pressed flat against your back, he shares warmth and strength with you as you lean back further, allowing his kisses to cover your sternum. “Kento,” you practically mewl his name, your fingers tugging at his roots as your hips roll against his, seeking friction where you need him most. “Kento, please…”

Nanami pulls back almost immediately, the tip of his nose following the path his lips created on your skin until his mouth meets yours. “Patience is a virtue,” the words nothing but a husky murmur. But your fingers know better than to hold still, already palming his biceps and shoulders. You brush your nose against his, the plea in your eyes clear as day as you drive him towards madness. “Want to feel you inside me... Can’t be patient if all I want is right in front of me, Kento—,” a surprised yelp interrupts your words as he simply hoists you up.

The sheer strength behind his actions makes you jump in his hold and your arms fly around his neck to stabilise yourself. Nanami simply chuckles right next to your ear, teeth nibbling at the flesh. “Not so cheeky anymore,” his hands guide your legs around his waist, carrying you out of the living room to make his way to your bedroom.

If it wasn’t for the little demon inside you, convincing you to already move your hips against his, moaning sweetly just for him. You break one of his rules by marking his neck, lips attaching to his perfect skin and sucking a deep patch of red, which causes him to hiss and land a spank to your ass, quickly followed by a particularly painful pinch.

You won't even attempt to hide your amusement, giggling so innocently while further pushing yourself against his body until your back meets the cold wall of your hallway and Nanami forces you to look at him, grip on your hair strong as his face hovers above yours.

You simply stare at him, challenging him for actions. Nanami’s expression seems calculated as his eyes roam over your face until they lock on your lips—which widen into your cheekiest grin. “Kento~,” is your sinfully innocent sigh of his name. You arch your back and place one hand on the nape of his neck, pulling his face towards your breasts while you unclasp your bra with your free hand.

“Little devil,” he mumbles, but complies as he takes one nipple between his lips, letting the tip of his tongue swirl around the nub as his teeth play with your sensitivity.

Your hips grind against his clothed erection, slow and teasing, to have him grunt and seek further pressure. “Sometimes…” he breathes, but pauses to clear his thoughts. “Sometimes…?” you repeat. The audacity to chuckle over his struggles annoys Nanami further as his icy glare meets your twinkling eyes. “Sometimes I could simply—,” Nanami leans closer, exhaling a breath over your ear that makes your eyes fall heavy. “Simply fuck you until you beg me to be nice again. But you want that, don’t you?” Your nod follows before he even finishes his words, and you turn your head for your lips to brush against each other once more—greedily pulling him down to kiss him again.

Your moans meet between your parted lips, mouths hungrily moving against each other as flimsy fingers rake over his clothed chest. The desperate whine from your lips upon not being able to directly feel his muscles beneath your touch is almost too cute.

Your feet reach the floor once your lips part, leaving you awfully aware of your usual size difference as you gaze up at him. 

Nanami follows your request in a heartbreak, unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing the fabric carelessly aside, so unlike his usual prim and proper behaviour. You really bring out the worst in him. 

Your shameless gaze tracks every little crevice on his built figure as you subconsciously wet your lips. “Greedy,” he mumbles, yet he knows he isn’t much better, as his fingers already run along your hips and dip beneath the fabric of your shorts and panties until they fall to the floor. 

You stand on your toes as you search for his lips, one hand tracing over the shape of his erection beneath his pants before finally freeing him from his restraints. His cock rests heavy in the palm of your hand, but the satisfaction your smaller hand offers him is worth millions. Nanami’s hands rest against the wall behind you, his head lolling forward until his erratic pants fan over your skin.  “And so, so impatient,” you complete his previously started sentence as you pull back. 

The moment you bring your fingertips to your lips, your eyes meet his, to ensure Kento witnesses your tongue cleaning off his pre-cum from your hand. You love to make his composure falter. 

He exhales a shaky curse before you see his jaw tighten, brows creasing in frustration, or confusion(?). “How—, why do I still want to ruin you even when I’m in a bad mood...” His quiet confession draws your bottom lip between your teeth, it makes you clench around nothing as desire starts to overflow inside you—a selfish part of you loves his sour mood. The slow kisses you plant along his chest only make it harder for him now. Nanami’s hands land on your waist and pull you close against him, his subtle moans meeting your ear right away. “Then do it,” you mumble as your hand returns to move along his shaft. 

Yet you don’t expect his fingertips to immediately dig into your ass and lift you once more. You squeak as your hands grip onto his shoulders, searching for some sort of stabilisation. Nanami presses your back against the wall, his chest cages your body between the hard wall and his muscular frame, with the tip of his cock prodding against your entrance. Yet he refuses to lower your body in his hold. 

“Do what?” he asks, seemingly clueless, while the tip of his nose bumps against yours. He can see the answer clearly in your eyes, but it's just so much more satisfying to hear it coming from your lips. “Ruin me.” You demand with a gentle whisper. It rewards you with a rare smile to soften his stern features, while Nanami steadily lowers your position, allowing you to feel each drag of him inside your walls—despite the almost embarrassingly easy entrance thanks to your arousal. 

Nanami presses your back against the wall as he straightens himself to stand at full size. Your limited mobility leaves him in full control, his cock slowly thrusting inside you until he feels you adjust to his girth. Your hands wander over his body, appreciating his broad shoulders or tugging on his hair as his movements gain strength. You moan his name in return, arms snaking around his neck for support as he keeps pressing you against the wall while his cock drags along your clenching walls. 

The desperation of your walls trying to keep him inside seems utterly amusing as a rare tease slips past his lips right into your ear: “Greedy, always so greedy.” 

He moans lowly and leans his forehead on your shoulder as he keeps thrusting—bouncing your body up with each push inside you with ease. His hands squeeze your hips, further controlling your movements when he creates some space between your body and the wall. 

Your eyes widen in shock—the fear of falling makes you involuntarily clench harder. “Afraid I can’t manage to hold my woman?” Nanami feels challenged, the struggle in his voice clear as you refuse to loosen up around his shaft. Until only your shoulders rest against the wall and his gentle grip helps you grind against his pelvis. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips subconsciously applying further pressure until the delicious friction of his cock has your thighs twitching against his hips. 

Your moans meet between your bodies as you slowly circle your hips, grinding against his pubic bone as you feel your orgasm approaching. Nanami busies himself by dousing your chest and stomach with deep kisses, holding still to the best of his ability despite the need to simply thrust into you. 

“You feel so good,” he murmurs. Groans escape him as his hips stutter against you, his cock throbbing inside you and twitching in utter despair. Your legs jerk at his actions, your back arching just a bit more as another moan falls from your parted lips. 

You lure his eyes to open again with a seductive drawl of his name, forcing him to witness your hands roaming over your body; along your chest as your fingertips redraw the round of your breasts before you cup them. Gently fondling them in front of him and playing with your nipples, you don’t even try to hide your deep moans. 

Nanami clenches his jaw, biting back his groan as you pulse around him so perfectly. How badly he wants to play with your breasts. 

He returns to fully press your back into the stone, his hips leaving no room as he grinds up into you, stimulating your clit once more. You paw at his chest and shoulders, your head leaning back as you gasp for air. The way he holds you open and simply thrusts into you is erratic. 

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and he feels your nails scratching his back, leaving careless marks like he was your personal scratching post. “So close,” you promise, biting your bottom lip as a smug little smirk decorates his handsome features. “Good girl, such a perfect girl.” 

Yet even the strongest man gets overtaken by exhaustion eventually. And spoiling you with his deep thrusts and his kisses, moans and groans can get tiring.

You kiss him almost frantically, your back lifting off the wall as you fully cling onto Nanami. Overwhelmed with your need, he topples a few steps back. Luckily, he is a man of quick solutions—opting to get down on his knees and place you on the carpet of the hallway. His hands grip your thighs and press you against him as he ruthlessly snaps his hips against you, his cock hitting just the right spots. 

The mess you’ve turned him into is the prettiest version of Kento you’ll ever see, sweat dripping down along his temples and over his chest—highlighting his lean and strong build as his brows furrowed in deep desperation. 

Strangled moans and harsh pants come from his lungs as he makes you cream all over him. Your fingers nearly claw at his wrist thanks to the perfect pressure applied by his thumb on your clit as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The countless moans of “Kento” and “so good” sound like music to his ears, he never thought he’d be a man who could listen to a song on repeat.

Once he finally allows himself to let go, he blankets your smaller figure with his frame. Nanami’s hips maintain a shallow pace, spreading his cum inside your deeply stimulated cunt while he touches your figure with tender care until his arms reach around your back to hoist you up into his lap. 

Your body feels almost limp from your orgasm, making it awfully alluring to allow yourself to lean into his chest and close your eyes. Nanami’s fingers brush your hair out of your face, the thrumming of his heart hammering against his ribcage quite clear for you to witness as he holds you closer against him. 

“Are you okay?” both of you ask at the same time, to which he offers a rare chuckle as he shakes his head. “Let me clean you up, yes?” A simple hum is all your tired reply consists of, simply letting him carry you to your bathroom. 

You could already pass out once the soft cloth stops teasing your sensitive body parts—if it weren’t for the curious fingers touching your figure while water begins to surround both of you. 

Actually, days like these are the best, Nanami concludes, as long as you’re there.

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[fartcloudfartcloud]

What about Logan meeting a reader with more dominance than him? Like what would he do, what would he want to do to them?

*giggles and wrings hands together* You've found my achilles heel mr.69

i dont know if this is what you wanted but im using this as my excuse to write FREAKY SUBMISSIVE LOGAN PORN!!!

warnings: Edging, Logan being mean and then begging on his knees a second later, i do say reader is "5 foot whatever" but if that doesnt apply just ignore it lmao, I do describe him as almost crying every now and then so if that turns u off this might be a skip

This is short (1.5k) but I love submissive men so do NOT be afraid to lmk if you want more :)

Personally, I was raised by a woman way too strong headed to ever be the stereotype of submission, and I'm sure a lot of you share the same sentiment in some way or another. I was always told to never let a man tell me what to do, and I can picture a reader being the exact same way. 

Not mean, not bullheaded or rude, but strong. Tough. Logan had expected to blow through you like he had the rest of his team (or at least how he thought he did, though he was a lot tougher in his head than in action). But when he stood up to you, all 5 foot whatever of you, it felt like you were standing eye to eye.  

You did exactly as you were taught, chin up and shoulders back as you spoke with confidence, and it easily had you slipping into positions of power in the mansion with ease. He admired you from afar for a while, watched as you seamlessly commanded a room, effortlessly organizing missions and handling insubordinate children like it was nothing.  

Logan couldn't describe where the attraction came from. Originally, he thought it was his manly man urges to take a dominant woman and make her pine for him, but you and I both know that's not why you got him going. 

If you were to ask him right now in his current scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell you which was his favorite part. Not sure if it's you under him in between his knees, looking up and fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him like has something to behold; or if it's your firm grip around his cock, effortlessly bringing him so close to the edge before you manhandle him back down to earth. 

It had only been once so far, but you had gotten him bad. Your hands all sloppy and wet working up and down his length with vigor, your filthy loudmouth a never-ending record of come on baby, let me see it, let go for me. 

All that build up, just for you to -right as he whimpers out a breathless "going to fucking cum"- halt all action and grip your flingers tightly around his base. 

It ripped a deep growl from his chest, the feeling almost painful as his finish line is so rudely ripped from him.  

He should've known, he knows you too well too have assumed he could get you all pretty on your knees without some anterior motive.  

"You want something?" You ask him innocently, that stupid pretty smile still spread across your face. He grinds his teeth as the pressure in his stomach slowly simmers down, not enough air in his lungs to formulate a response.  

You slowly start stroking him again, an agonizing pace that has his cock flushed a deep red and practically throbbing in your hand. The sound is pornographic and it's all too much for him. 

He's whining now, head thrown back and noises getting increasingly high pitched as you keep his release just barely out of his reach. If he could focus enough to use his ears, he’d hear you laughing at him. 

He so rudely tries to interrupt you, tries to bring his own hands down to just get himself there, but you wouldn't allow it. You'd make him sit on his hands if you had to, and when you grabbed each wrist and planted them next to his thighs and told him to "stay," he knew better than to disobey. 

"Gotta ask for the things you want, Wolvie." You remind him. It's just basic manners, really, frankly he should be thanking you for still touching him after being so rude.  

"Don't gotta ask for shit," He spits out through clenched teeth. 

See, that was Logans problem. He had too much fucking pride, needed someone to teach him a lesson. Guess today he needs it to be you. 

"Mm you're right, Logan," you've got a smile on your face as you speak that Logan can't read. Either way, he's scared. 

None of it matters though as your hand picks up speed and pressure, resuming your prior ministrations as your fingers suddenly massage every spot with precision. His breath is gone as his head hangs limp on his shoulders, his fingers gripping the comforter like it would save him from your attack.  

"You don't gotta do shit," You're talking but he's not listening. It's all too good, he's being hurdled towards his orgasm faster than ever, he couldn't hear your jests even if he wanted to over the pressure in his ears. He’s gonna cum, he's so fucking close, and your hands feel so fucking good so perfect and it's all so much and- 

"But neither do I," and just like that you're off him. Not like before, this time you stand up and physically take a step back from him, watching his form head to toe as he's forced to cope with his second lost orgasm. 

The groan he lets out is primal, you expect to see him start ripping the pillows and sheets with how his writhing on your bed. He’s on his back twitching, practically crying from the ache pulsing through the center of his body. It hurts, he's so desperate it physically hurts, his hips rutting into the air in search of anything. 

He has no sense anymore, no control over any of his limbs as he falls to the floor and crawls to you, the only thing he can make out in his fogged-up mind is need.  

"Please baby," He begs mindlessly, "You're so fucking mean to me," He's kissing your thighs and pulling at your hands, buttering you up and wallowing in any contact you'll give him.  

Neither of you know how it happened, know at what point in the night he broke and became a whimpering messy puppy, but God did it feel good to watch, to see him yearn for you so desperately. 

His eyes are teary eyed and hazy as he speaks, "I'll do anything princess I'm sorry," He kisses you palm and knuckles and up your wrists, "Please baby I'm sorry I'm sorry just fucking-" His hips involuntarily grind down, his thighs twitching and his hard cock bobbing between his legs. "Please touch me baby I can't fucking take it,"  

He’s a mess, his cock is leaking all over his thighs and the floor, and his lips won't leave your body, lathing kisses anywhere he can, worshipping your body as you stand still and look down at him.  

"Why can't you just behave the first time?" You ask, wrapping your fingers in his hair and gently tugging his hair back, making him look at you as he speaks.  

"Was just playin baby," He kisses the wrist of the hand in his hair, "shouldn't have teased you baby I'm sorry, please baby please," his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzles into you. It's pathetic, and if anyone else ever saw him like this he's sure he could just explode on the spot.  

"Get back on the bed." You order, taking pleasure in the way he scrambles back to his spot, his legs spread for you and his hands pressed back into their spot next to his hips. He’s disheveled, his hair falling over his face and sticking to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat covering him head to toe. Youd keep him like this forever if you could. 

You decide to take mercy on him though, the sight of him on his knees begging like a dog more than enough to satisfy your cravings. Now, all you wanted was to do was so how pretty he looked once he actually finished for you. 

You find your spot between his legs again, looking up at him all pretty just like before. God you were going to ruin him. 

"Go on. Tell me what you want," you give him one last instruction before giving in. His breath is shaky, his words coming out in a whole different tone than before. He sounds small, on the brink of tears as he whimpers out one last desperate, "please," before you spit in your hand and wrap it back around his cock.  

Instantly he's gone. He doesn't even have the energy to moan or cry, he's just paralyzed. His eyes roll back and his hand clamps over his mouth, no air left in his lungs as the most mind-numbing wave of pleasure works up from his core. He wasn't even cumming yet and it already was making him shake. 

He should've just trusted you, should've known that you'd make him feel so fucking good if he just listened. Never again, he'll never say no to you ever again. 

By the time his orgasm actually hit him, he's laid out flat on his back on the mattress, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes squeezed shut. Both his hands are wrapped in the sheets, stuck in place by his claws that slowly inch out with every rope of cum that comes from him. There's no sound until it's all out of him, your hands not stopping till he's whining and pushing you away from him. 

You watch as he recovers, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he desperately tries to get air back into his lungs, aftershocks still tumbling through him. His eyes flutter back open, not enough energy to focus on anything else though as his claws start sheathing back into his knuckles.  

He sits up as you return from the bathroom with a washcloth, gently cleaning off his stomach and anything that was coated in a thin layer of his finish. He’s sensitive, hissing and gasping as you gently clean his slowly softening length and thighs.  

Once all evidence is taken care of, you look up at him with soft eyes. He looks so amazing like this, his eyes can't focus on anything while his lips slowly pull into a big dopey grin. You let him take you in for a moment, just staying like this with him till he has the strength to speak.  

"Jesus Christ," Is all he says before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before falling back onto the bed.  

"Are you going to make it?" You tease, cuddling up under his arm where he lay and resting your head on his bicep.  

"I don't think so," He giggles, enough oxygen in his system now, enough strength in him to wrap himself around you and kiss your head. "You were a lot closer to killing me then you think,"  

You giggle and smack his chest, "keep being mean like that and next time I actually will," 

[submattenthusiast]

brat

no summary because i cannot for the life of me write one.

pairings ; bratty!sub!matt x mean!dom reader (no use of y/n)

contains- smut, spanking, pain kink, degradation, orgasm denial, mommy kink, crying, all that good stuff.

notes - sorry this took so long ! for @luvs4matt thank you for requesting :) . not proofread lowercase intended.

walking up to the register, you had a handful of clothes and your boyfriend matt trailing mindlessly behind you. “you know you could help me carry these clothes instead of staring obnoxiously at my ass matt” you spoke, breaking him out of the trance he was in. “no you got it, plus i’m already paying” he said, fumbling in his pockets for his wallet. you put your items on the counter and greeted the cashier before jolting forward with an “oomph”. ignoring the hand on your ass, you continued the transaction, only turning around to grab matt’s card.

a cheeky smirk was plastered on his face as you strolled out of the store. “what the fuck was that?” you spoke through gritted teeth. “what? i told you i would pay” he casually said. “groping and smacking my ass?” you shot back, shoving your bags in his hands. he shrugged it off.  “make yourself useful please” you smiled, walking towards the next store. he was dumbfounded by your words but adjusted the bags and trudged into the store. 

“which one do you like better matt?” you questioned, holding up two shirts. matt looked up from his phone for a second before shrugging, “the black one, can we go home after this i’m tired” he complained, returning his attention to his phone. you sighed, choosing the opposite shirt than the one he picked, knowing he picked the first one he saw instead of actually paying attention. “you can go home i’m still shopping, just leave your card with me” you were irritated with him, and just wanted to shop in peace.

“how are you gonna get home then smart one” he rolled his eyes, thinking you were joking. “i’ll find a way” you casually said, rummaging through the rack of clothes. matt’s eyes widened as he realized that you were serious. without another word, he slipped his card into your back pocket and kissed you on the cheek before walking out of the store.

۶ৎ

you finished shopping and got a ride home from a friend, avoiding an awkward uber ride. “thank you for the ride, text me when you get home safe” you yelled to your friend before stepping into the house. you slipped off your shoes and made your way upstairs. the various shopping bags pushing against eachother alerted matt of your presence.

matt lifted up off the couch and walked towards you. “he-” he started. you held your hand out to his face stopping him in his tracks, his brows furrowed as he frowned. you handed him your shopping bags and pointed to the bedroom. you turned on your heels and walked into the kitchen, grabbing water and a snack. matt was frozen in place, unable to process what just happened. you never greeted him like this, you always gave him a hug or a kiss. he blankly stared at you as you moved around the kitchen, waiting for you to speak to him.

 after grabbing what you needed you headed toward the room, a confused matt trailing behind you. “ma-” he tried again. “go in the room, take my clothes out of the bags, and then sit down” you instructed, he nodded and walked into the room. you strolled to the hallway closet to grab a towel then made your way back to the room. walking in you were met with matt sitting at the edge of the bed nervously and your clothes folded neatly next to him. you walked around to the nightstand at the side of the bed to place the items in your hand down, except the towel, throwing it on the bed.

“since you wanted to be an ass earlier you’re gonna watch as i try on all the clothes i got and if i hear a single sarcastic comment you’re in for it, got it?” you said, reaching for the shirt on top of the pile. “yes ma’am” he nodded.

you tried on a few shirts, jeans, skirts, and a hoodie. you were excited to have a fashion show for your boyfriend, so far he hadn’t said anything out of line and it started to make you reconsider the punishment you were planning to give him. after you tried on the last item he fucked up. “this is the shopping you wanted to do so badly, it’s been hours and this was all you got?” he sighed in disbelief, standing up.

you let go of the bottom of the shirt you were about to take off and took a deep breath, matt was doing so good but he just had to be a smartass. 

“get on your knees, now’’ you demanded, tone filled with anger. matt had been acting up all day and you were beyond sick of it. his body tensed at your words, realizing that he was fucked.

“make me”, he shot back, keeping up the attitude as if he wasn’t scared shitless. matt stood firmly in his place in front of the bed. your body moved before your mind as you quickly switched from in front of the full-body mirror to standing in front of your boyfriend. in fear and anticipation, he watched you intently, shivers traveling all over his body. your hands traveled up his body feeling the goosebumps under your fingertips, slowly reaching his broad shoulders. the grip you had on his shoulders tightened as you pushed down, forcing him on his knees.

matt hit the ground with a huff, whispering a soft ouch. “you know your safe word’’ you said while grabbing his face, forcing him to look up. “orange, no need for it, i can take anything you give me,’’ he said boldly. “I hope you can tough guy” you mocked, knowing how easy it was to break him.

his blue eyes gazed into yours as he waited for your next move, feeling another smart comment on the tip of his tongue. you let go of his jaw to softly caress his cheeks, beard pricking at your fingertips. matt leaned into your touch, a sigh falling out of his lips as your soft hands moved.

you removed your hands from his face, tangling one in his hair and raising the other. your palm met his cheek, catching him off guard. matt pursed his lips together, trying to hold back the sounds he wanted to let out. you put a finger between his lips, pulling his bottom lip down. “don’t hide those sounds from me, you were talking so much earlier, why stop?” you said, leaning down over him.

“hit me again please” matt spoke, moving your hand from his mouth to his cheek. you obliged and landed another harsh slap, leaving his cheek stinging. he whimpered at the contact, it hurt so good, he craved more. his cheeks were bright red by the time you finished, a few tears fell but he hadn’t told you to stop yet.

“take your pants and boxers off” you ordered, moving to sit on the bed. he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them off with his boxers, and kicked them off. the cold air hitting his bare lower half made him jump. his semi-hard cock caught your eye, looking at it and then back at his face. matt noticed your stare and felt a bit awkward he wasn’t small by any means but your stare made him feel like he was.

once he undressed you patted your lap, confusing matt at first until he realized what you had planned. He took long strides over to you, stopping to glance at you once he was in front of you. “lay down matt” you instructed, leaning back to give him room.

matt kneeled on the bed beside you before hovering his stomach over your thighs. He stretched his arms over you to balance himself before gently laying on your thighs. Careful not to hurt himself or you, he scooted up so his ass was more in reach for you. he rested his head on his arms once he was fully adjusted.

you glided your hands across his bare asscheeks, attempting to soothe him before starting. He shivered at the contact, your hands were freezing. “use that mouth for something good and count for me” you said, squeezing his right cheek. matt gasped at the unexpected touch but shook his head. You placed your right hand on his lower back and used your left one to spank him. you lifted the hand up, and brought it back down, giving his left cheek a hard smack, his body jolted forward at the powerfulness of the slap “ah–fuck one” he cried out.

you delivered 5 more strikes to his left asscheek before moving on to the right. matt was still keeping his tough guy up even though tears were staining his cheeks. “what are we at now?” you questioned, “six” he sniffled, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “good now stop all that crying,” you said before spanking him again. “seven”.

 the more you hit him the harder he got, his cock was fully erect against your thighs, a bit of precum leaking onto your skin. your hand made contact with his ass again and his act began to falter. “mama hurts please” he whined, you snorted at his words. “should’ve thought about that before being a brat all day yeah?” you responded, moving your hand from his back to tug at his hair, making him groan. 

“you wanted this no? acting out like a whore, begging for attention” you degraded, tightening your grip on his hair. he whimpered at the degradation and at you pulling his hair. continuing to hold his head up, you spanked him again, harder than before. “answer me”. “y-yes i did m sorry” matt sobbed. “if you wanted this so bad why are you crying?”.

“I don’t know i’m sorry” his brain was clouded at this point so clouded that he almost forgot to keep count. “e-eight” he whispered. “good boy, can you handle two more?” you cooed, releasing his head, setting it gently back down. “yes please keep going” he begged, cock jerking at the praise.

your hand struck his ass once again, harder than the last time. you wanted to make these last two spankings count. His body flew forward at the contact, a pained moan falling out of his mouth. “nine fuck” his cock was painfully hard now, and everytime your hand touched his bottom it moved against your thigh, giving him a bit of friction. you raised your hand for the last time tonight, matt sucked in a sharp breath, preparing himself for the pain.

your hand swung down and hit both of his ass cheeks, he yelped, not expecting this from you. “t-ten ah–shit” he stuttered out, and tears were beginning to form again. you caressed his ass gently, trying not to cause more pain. matt groaned at your touch, ass still stinging from the last hit. you tapped his ass gently, telling him to get up, he whimpered out “can’t so sore”. 

“not so tough now huh” you teased, rubbing his back soothingly. “no i’m not mommy’m sorry” he apologized, pouting a bit. “that’s what i thought, now what are we going to do about this boner you have hm?” you ask. “need you please”.

“I thought you were so sore?” you mocked his words from earlier. “am but i still wan’ you, don’t care if it hurts,” he desperately said. “prove it” you challenged. “fuck me good, show me how sorry you really are”. your words flipped a switch in him, a few minutes ago he was ready to tap out, and let his boner go away on its own. now he just wanted to feel your pussy around him as he rutted his hips into yours.

he cursed under his breath as he got up from your lap, legs threatening to give out. you laughed at his eagerness. you stood from the edge of the bed to remove your skirt and panties, now having as much clothes on as matt. you threw the skirt on the floor but kept the panties in your grasp, saving those for later.

you laid back against the bed, into the various pillows before waving matt over. he stood shyly beside the bed waiting for his next to command, quickly moving when he saw your hand. He climbed on the bed and kneeled in front of you. while he was in front of you you took a good look at him, eyes tracing his body. he was sweating horribly,his hair was now a dark almost black brown, the white t-shirt he had on clung to his body showing you his tattoos and the outline of his stomach. your eyes went lower and lower eventually making contact with his cock, precum smeared at the tip and was an angry red now.

while you were eyefucking him he got shy, he hated when you stared at him in silence like this. matt began to get impatient though, taking matters into his own hands and spreading your legs so he could get in between them. you gasped at the sudden motion, giving him a mean glare. “you were taking too long,” he shrugged, focusing his attention on your pussy.

your folds were glistening, something about putting matt in his place got you worked up, wetness collecting in your panties the whole time you punished him. matt brought a finger down to play with your cunt, spreading your arousal all over. he traced a few figure eights on your clit before inserting a finger inside your hole. you moaned at the intrusion,his long finger massaging your walls. 

before you could enjoy him fingering you he removed his fingers, wrapping them around his cock instead. matt dragged his cock against your folds, using your wetness as lube. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. he planted one hand on your hip and the other beside your head as he pushed his cock in, stretching you out. matt let out a deep grunt as he filled you.

matt bottomed out and you groaned, his size never failing to leave you speechless. he gave you a minute to adjust before pulling back and thrusting back into your pussy. a few thrusts in and matt was already close. “close–shit” he groaned, your walls squeezed him deliciously. “just pathetic, it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet,” you spat. “y-you just feel so good please” he pleaded with you. “not a chance in hell” you spoke, denying him of his first orgasm. 

you pulled him by the shirt so he was face to face with you to whisper, “don’t you fucking cum until i do, understand?”. he nodded and you connected your lips with his, you both moaned at the feeling. the kiss was short lasting as you pushed him back by the chest, remembering his actions earlier, he didn’t deserve a kiss from you.

matt’s thrusts got rougher and it got harder for him to contain his impending orgasm. He unlatched your left leg from around his waist and hitched it over his shoulder, wanting to be deeper inside you. your thighs stung at the stretch but he was so deep inside you, you didn’t even mind. you threw your head back as matt buried his cock deeper, the head hitting your cervix every time he snapped his hips against yours.

your hands found their way under his shirt, nails scratching down his back. matt hissed at your nails digging into his back, only increasing the pleasure he was feeling. “if i had known misbehaving was gonna l-land me in this position i would’ve done it way sooner–fuck” he grunted. 

“shut up i’m close” you couldn’t even think of an insult to spew at him, his dick was too good. hearing that you were close he rutted his hips into yours, desperate to cum now. “please can’t hold it anymore” he whimpered, cock twitching with each thrust. 

 “cum with me fuck–” you moaned, juices spilling all over him. “shit shit t-thank you mama fuck–” he babbled, orgasm taking over,. matt’s thrusts slowed as he came, streaks of white filling you up. you breathed heavily as you came down from your high, letting your legs fall from his waist and shoulder. his dick went limp as he pulled out. a mixture of cum dripped out your pussy as he did. matt was worn out now, the attitude from earlier completely gone. He fell forward onto your chest, getting comfortable there before whispering multiple thank you’s and i’m sorry’s.

a/n this is really the worst thing i've ever written sorry but i hope you enjoyed!!!

taglist; @mattybsgroupie @frnkocnlvr @fratboychrisera @issysh3ll @zariyam @bellassturniolo @thepubeburgler @gwennybenny @matts-myloverboy @luvs4matt @floralsturniolo @karttpet @benardsgfs @sturniolo-fann @cuntendipity @heartsforvin @ifwdominicfike @rain-likes-purple

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 2

prev

You....really shouldn't have bitten Alastor.

It was a threat, yep, and the guy did need to learn his actions had consequences, but...er. Was that really worth this?

The Radio Demon had practically been your shadow for the past week. His expression never changed, his tone never shifted. You were like, 90 percent sure he was thinking of the best way to kill you for maximum pain.

Pain wasn't good. You were allergic to it.

...That line usually got a chuckle out of whoever heard it, or in your case, whenever you thought it. However, this time, it didn't quite tickle your funny bone as it usually did.

Because Alastor was standing right there.

And staring at you.

In your goddam bedroom.

"....Hi." You said, chewing on your bottom lip.

Alastor's gaze darted for a second to your lip, then back to your eyes. And he said nothing.

"...Did you need something?" You said.

He continued to stare at you, unblinking.

You sighed "Listen, if you're going to kill me can you just hurry up already? I'm sure it beats how awkward this is."

Other than the slightest twitch of an ear, he still didn't respond.

You huffed, narrowing your eyes as a growl permeated through the air. "At least say something!"

He didn't.

"OKay, fine!" You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air. You crossed them over your chest with a pout, giving Alastor a mean side-eye. "Keep standing there doing nothing. I guess I could use a new hat rack anyway."

"...You don't have any hats?" He said, tilting his head to one side.

"I'll get some so I can justify having a hat rack." You said, tail flicking.

"Mhm... So, how sincere is this threat?"

"What?"

Alastor straightened his posture, taking a couple long strides to stand right at your bedside. "You make a lot of threats, my dear. And I've only ever seen you carry 1 out."

"Usually people listen to me." You said, rolling your eyes.

"So you've never actually follow through before?" He tilted his head to the opposite side than before. His grin seemed to stretched a bit, ears becoming less stiff.

"Does that make you happy?" You said, turning to face him "That you're the first idiot who made me actually do something?"

From how he practically beamed you can only assume it did. You sighed, flopping down onto the bed on your side. The intent was to ignore him until he got bored and went away or got sick of you and killed you.

Instead you found a shadowy tendril wrapping around your middle, rolling you onto your back. Alastor grinned down at you, his body a perfect 90-degree angle bent at the waist.

"I'm the first one you've bit?"

"...Yeah?" You said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean. I think I bit people when I was little and pretending I had rabies, but not really intending to hurt them..."

His grin widened. "How did I taste?"

...

"What."

"I want to know. How did I taste?"

Oh right he was a cannibal. You grimaced internally. Was that just something cannibals got giddy about? 'Hey I'm the first person you've eaten hurrah!'

The tendril around you gave a firm squeeze. You sighed and met Alastor's crimson eyes, giving him a flat look of your own.

"Dry and tough- like badly made jerky."

He laughed. "Well, of course! You bit into my jacket! Silly creature, you."

"....Well, you asked."

"That I did, that I did." Alastor hummed. He tilted his head too far to one side, leaning in closer to you "Would you care for a taste without my jacket?"

"No." You responded curtly.

The silence was palpable. Neither of you broke eye contact or changed your expressions for several moments. Those moments seemed very, very long.

His eye slowly twitched up and his ears dropped ever-so-slighty-

"Hm. Well, it's not like you'd manage that anyway."

"Probably not. Are we done?"

Another beat of silence passed before the shadows tendril dissolved into mist and Alastor was standing up straight again.

"Now, I wouldn't say this matter is done, but I suppose it could wait."

You sat up, staring at him. The more you stared, the more his eyes couldn't seem to decide on what to focus on. Was he...nervous?

That encounter didn't go anywhere else significant. He simply said a farewell and left you to your own devices.

===========

Your eye twitched as you took a long, deep breath.

Alastor was being so horribly, horribly annoying.

The last couple days he resumed his role as your shadow, but this time solely with the task of irritating you. He'd chew loudly, he'd step in an off-rhythm on purpose, he'd claw the surface of things you couldn't stand the sound of and it made your ears hurt and your jaw ache from how much you were grinding your teeth.

You had enough.

"Will you LEAVE ME ALONE!?" You snapped at him. He didn't so much as flinch, simply tilting his head and he leaned closer to you.

"Or what?"

"I'm going to shove your hooves so far up your ass you'll be coughing up horseshoes for a week-"

"I'm a deer, not a horse." He said, eyes crinkling up in amusement at your 'threat'.

You hissed out an agitated breath before taking a couple deep, long breaths and you felt your jaw lax (a little) and your temper die down a bit.

"...Yeah, you're right." You said after a moment "And I'm sorry. I didn't really have much of a reason to snap at you like that."

His eyes narrowed and you couldn't be bothered to wonder why. You said a curt goodbye and meandered off, feeling his eyes trained on your retreating form. You couldn't be bother to think about that, either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi it's me the writer. Letting you all know that this is not planned in the slightest and i'm just winging it. No smut will happen EVER though because I don't wanna write it. So kindly look elsewhere if that's what you want. I will put a poll here though with considerations for potential next installment

[amirasainz]

Could you please do leclerc brothers x reader, the whole family plus the girlfriends go on holidays, the brothers so excited to spend with their precious little sister but so are the girlfriends cause they adore her and the brothers and girlfriends fight over reader cause the brothers feel like the girls are taking there sister away from them?

Of course, my love. I hope you like it😘😘

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-xoxo

Leclerc summer

The Mediterranean sun shone brightly over the azure waters, casting a golden glow on the white sandy beaches of Mallorca. The Leclerc family had rented a luxurious villa overlooking the sea, a perfect getaway for everyone to unwind and spend quality time together. Charles, Lorenzo, and Arthur were particularly excited for this trip, eager to spend time with their precious little sister, Y/N. Despite their hectic schedules, they cherished every moment they could steal away for family time.

“Can you believe how beautiful this place is?” Y/N sighed as she leaned on the balcony railing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She turned to her brothers, who stood beside her, all wearing matching grins.

“It’s amazing, but what’s even better is that we get to spend time with you,” Charles said, nudging her playfully.

Arthur, who was standing on her other side, nodded. “Yeah, it’s been way too long since we’ve all hung out like this.”

Lorenzo wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “And this time, we’re not letting anyone steal you away,” he said, half-joking, but with a hint of possessiveness that only an older brother could have.

As if on cue, the girlfriends—Charlotte, Alex, and Carla—appeared from inside the villa, each holding cocktails and looking as glamorous as ever. Charlotte was the first to spot Y/N and immediately rushed over.

“Y/N! Come see this, we’re planning a girls' spa day!” Charlotte exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a hug.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “That sounds amazing!”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “A spa day? You can do that anytime. We have plans with Y/N.”

Charlotte pouted playfully. “Oh come on, Lorenzo. We never get to spend time with her either. Right, girls?”

Alex nodded enthusiastically, her arm draped around YN’s shoulders. “We’ve been planning this for ages. Y/N deserves some pampering.”

Arthur crossed his arms, a small frown forming on his face. “Pampering? She’s pampered enough at home. We were going to take her jet skiing today.”

“But we’ll have her back by then,” Carla said, smiling sweetly. “Right, Y/N?”

Y/N looked between her brothers and the girls, feeling caught in the middle but amused by the whole situation. “I mean, I could do both, right?”

Charles was not ready to back down so easily. “We didn’t come all the way here to lose you to a spa.”

Charlotte playfully rolled her eyes. “Charles, you’re acting like we’re taking her to another planet.”

Arthur leaned in closer to Y/N, whispering dramatically, “They’re trying to take you away from us.”

Carla laughed, overhearing his comment. “Oh please, Arthur, we’re not kidnappers.”

The playful bickering continued as they all moved back inside the villa for lunch. The table was filled with fresh seafood, pasta, and all kinds of Mediterranean delicacies. But the real entertainment was the ongoing competition between the brothers and the girlfriends, each group fighting for Y/N’s attention.

As they ate, Charlotte was showing Y/N something on her phone, laughing and chatting, while the brothers shot each other looks across the table.

“Remember when we used to do family karaoke nights?” Lorenzo said, trying to steer the conversation back to their shared memories. “We should totally do that tonight.”

“Or we could all go snorkeling,” Charles added quickly, desperate to keep Y/N involved in more active family time.

Alex smiled, not wanting to be outdone. “How about we plan a sunset boat trip? Just us girls, a little break from all the testosterone.”

Y/N chuckled, putting her fork down. “Guys, there’s no need to fight. I want to spend time with everyone.”

Lorenzo sighed dramatically, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just... you’re our little sister. It’s hard to share.”

Charlotte leaned in and squeezed Y/N’s hand. “And we just love having you around, Y/N. It’s not about keeping you to ourselves. We just love you.”

Arthur, trying to regain control, suggested, “Okay, how about this: we all do one big activity together? Something fun and adventurous that everyone would enjoy.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “Yes! Let’s do something everyone can join in on. What do you guys think?”

There was a moment of silence as they all considered it, then Lorenzo nodded. “Fine. But only because you suggested it.”

After some debating, they all agreed on a zip-lining and adventure course, something that combined fun, a little adrenaline, and the chance for everyone to bond together. They piled into two cars, with Y/N strategically placed in the middle of the three brothers in one car while the girlfriends followed in the other.

The adventure park was a vibrant blend of lush greenery and high-wire courses that zigzagged between towering trees. As they got harnessed up, the competitive spirit quickly resurfaced.

“I bet I can finish the course faster than you, Arthur,” Charlotte challenged, tightening her helmet.

Arthur scoffed. “You’re on. But don’t cry when you lose.”

Alex nudged Charles. “Want to make it interesting? Whoever finishes last buys dinner tonight.”

Charles glanced at Y/N, who was laughing at everyone’s trash talk. “As long as I’m teamed with Y/N, I’m good.”

Y/N beamed, feeling the warmth of everyone’s attention. “Let’s just have fun, guys. No sore losers!”

The course was exhilarating. They swung across ropes, zipped through the trees, and balanced on tight beams, each one cheering the other on. The brothers stayed close to Y/N, offering to help her across the more challenging sections, while the girlfriends provided a constant stream of encouragement, snapping photos and laughing the entire way.

By the end of the day, everyone was breathless and sweaty, but their spirits were high. Y/N was sandwiched between her brothers, her cheeks flushed with joy.

“That was awesome!” she exclaimed, hugging Arthur, then Charles, and finally Lorenzo. “Thank you, all of you, for making this so much fun.”

Charlotte, slightly panting, smiled as she caught up. “This was the best idea. We should make this a tradition.”

“Agreed,” Alex said, giving Y/N a high-five. “You brought us all together, and that’s all that matters.”

As the sun began to set, they gathered on the beach, sitting on a large picnic blanket with a cooler full of drinks and snacks. The tension from earlier had completely dissolved, replaced by the shared laughter and warmth that only family—and those close enough to be considered family—could bring.

Charles raised his drink. “To Y/N, the heart of this family trip.”

Everyone echoed his words, glasses clinking under the fading light.

Y/N smiled, feeling incredibly loved. “To all of you. The best brothers and sisters anyone could ask for.”

And as they watched the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that this vacation, filled with laughter, a bit of bickering, and unforgettable moments, would be one for the books.

[natlovesls2]

Romeo and Juliet

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: no use of y/n, set some time in the 19th century, angsty fluff or fluffy angst?, shit post/ rushed, let me know if i missed anything, Part 1 of 2, not proofread

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.2k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Oscar love each other despite not being allowed to even interact with one another. Or just a forbidden romance trope fanfic.

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

You stood at the edge of the ballroom looking out at the dance pairs twirling around the dance floor, glancing down at your nearly empty dance card– your father's presence no doubt contributing to that lack of young men approaching you. 

“Would you happen to have any space left in your dance card? Perhaps you could pencil me in,” a voice said, from beside you, snapping you out of your entranced state. 

You couldn’t even begin to formulate a thought before your father intervened, “She cannot,” he replied for you, his voice full of contempt for the young man who stood in front of you. 

The young man frowned slightly, quickly regaining control over himself and smiling again, “What a shame,” he said, giving you and your father a curt nod before walking off. 

You turned to your father, your exasperation and frustration clearly present in your expression. How could he turn away such a fine-looking gentleman when you had only danced with two men? All he did was shake his head at you disapprovingly, turning to speak to your mother. You would find a way to dance with that gentleman one way or another. 

Your opportunity to slip away from your father's attentive, hawk-like supervision came when an old friend of his had him engaged in conversation. Your mother gave you a slight nod, signaling that it was the perfect opportunity to proceed with your plan— you did just that, wasting no time to escape your tyrant of a father. 

“You’re a bit of a rebel, aren’t you?” Said a slightly familiar voice as you scanned the ballroom for the gentleman who had asked you to dance, causing you to startle. 

“It’s you.”

“You were looking for me?” He asked slightly amused. 

“Yes, I wanted to dance— only if you would still like to,” you nervously stumbled over your words. 

“Of course, it would be an honor to dance with such a beautiful lady,” he extended his hand to you, taking your gloved hand in his own, leading you towards the dance floor. 

“What's your name?”

“Oscar, and what might your name be?” 

You danced for what seemed like an eternity, song after song after song. No doubt turning heads at such an inappropriate scene, though you couldn’t have cared less. 

“Will I see you again?” you asked as you finally parted ways. 

“If you will allow me the pleasure.” Of course, you would let him see you again, as many times as he wanted. You had, so many times, scoffed at the idea of love at first sight but you finally understood. It was as if the stars had aligned and brought Oscar to you. 

The content sigh you let was short-lived as your father approached you with a stern look. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out as he pulled away towards the exit of the ballroom, your mother trailing behind.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You continued to meet in secret, your lady's maid guarding your secret love with her life– it was nice knowing that at least someone was on your side. She often snuck in and out the letters you both wrote to each other. 

Your father clenched the letter he had intercepted, glaring at you, his anger rising as you reached out for the letter. 

“You cannot do this— tell him he can’t, mother… it’s unfair,” you desperately watched as he tore the letter into pieces.

“You do not tell me what I can and cannot do! I am your father, I know what is best for you!”

“Perhaps you’re overreacting, dear,” your mother attempted to calm your father. 

“She deserves better than him, better than a man of such… a dishonorable family” your father scolded both you and your mother, continuing to voice his disdain for Oscar and his family. 

“I deserve what I very damn please!” You say, challenging your fathers words, to his face, for the first time in your life. 

“Who do you think you’re speaking to with that tone, young lady? Mm? Have you lost your mind?” 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold night air bit at your skin as you stalked through the empty streets in search of your lover. 

“I knew you’d make it” he said as he saw your figure approach the alley in which he was hidden. 

“I almost didn’t. My father knows, he intercepted the latest letter you sent.”

“It was purposeful.”

“Purposeful?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, squinting your eyes at Oscar to catch a glimpse of him with the dim light of the moon. 

“I need him to know about us” he began to explain, his hands reaching out to grasp your own.

“Why?”

“I love you,” he began again, “You are the stars of my night sky. The center of my universe. My beginning and end. You are all that has been and will ever be. Without you… I cease to be, love. Don’t you get it?” 

“My father will never let us be,” you tried to reason, knowing it would be of no use. There was no changing his mind; he was set on loving you. 

“We could run away. Forget about your father– forget about who they want us to be. It could just be us. Just the two of us, happy and in love forever.”

“Oscar,” you futilely attempted to interrupt him.

"Can’t you see that I am a fool– blinded by the most dangerous weapon we as humans have ever created, love," he whispered into your hands, placing small kisses on them, “Please, tell me you love me. Tell me you feel the same as I do— that you feel that undeniable urge to destroy everything we’ve ever known to have the privilege of loving each other.”

“You cannot say such words, Oscar. You know the implication, it’s not as easy as we want to make it seem,” you whispered, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail.

“I know, you’re right, but you have irrevocably marked my being with your presence– and I find that I cannot live without you. You have bewitched me: mind, body, and soul. You, my beloved, hold my heart in the palm of your hand. I feel as though I am suffocating without you. You are the very air that brings life to me," Oscar said, pulling you closer, searching your eyes for any sign that you loved him just as much as he loved you. 

“I– we… cannot be. You know this–”

“No, I will not take that as an answer,” his grip on your hands tightened, eyes blown out wide and wildly scanning over your face with a hint of betrayal. He was sure that you would immediately reciprocate his all-consuming love, but you had failed to confess as he had done, “I love you–”

“As do I,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his own. 

“Then let's go, tomorrow night.”

“Alright.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Can you believe it, Mary– He loves me and tomorrow night we shall finally be together,” You sighed longingly as you spoke to your lady's maid of your night with Oscar. 

“You’re so lucky to have each other” she helped you into your nightgown before slipping out of your room. 

She made her way towards your fathers study, knocking softly, waiting for permission to enter before slipping into the room. “Sir, I have some news that you might find interesting.”

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I was going to write more but my classes have been kicking my ass. I'll probably make a second part. I just wanted to post something since I haven't posted in so long.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request headcanons for Leviathan, Satan, Beleth, Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mammon reacting to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush please?

WHB demons stuck in a room/area with their crush

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Characters: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Beleth, Lucifer

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tries to play it cool, but if you look a bit closer, there is some pink tint to his cheeks

Definitelly a show-off

Will snap at other demons around him just to show off his powerful kicks and slaps

For some reason, though, you're immune to his anger

If you just keep doing your own thing and don't acknowledge or even look at him (out of fear you'll be the next), he'll slowly move towards you by kicking everyone in his way

But sadly, by the time he gets to you, you're already walking away

       ༺☆༻

This moutain of a demon can buy a lot, except for a game

He's confident enough to walk up to you and try and compliment you on something you're wearing/have on you

That's the part that fails though, since he during that accidentally insults how cheap the thing is

He'll even ask you out on a date, but if you accept is solely on you

If you don't, there's always another time

If you do, expect to be picked up in his expensive car, wearing clothes you received the morning prior that he bought for you

Congrats, you've bagged the sugar daddy!

       ༺☆༻

Exact opposite of Satan

Levi tolerates everyone except for you

How dare you make him fall for you and then get you two stuck together in this place

You're lucky you don't have a noose on your neck

But still, try not to make any noise or draw some attention to yourself, because that death void is calling your name for at least as long as it takes Levi to get over his feelings

       ༺☆༻

If Beel has a crush on you, you will know

You're going about your day, maybe get a bit sweaty from trying to catch your bus, when all of a sudden there's a small gust of wind as if somebody sniffed you

Then you notice that some of your worn underwear tends to disappear and then magically reappear before the next wash cycle

Getting Beel stuck in the same room/space as you is near impossible given his physics-defying abilities

And if you somehow are, Beel kinda forgets that he hasn't had that talk withou you, so he just assumes you already are a thing

       ༺☆༻

Beleth's eyes are on you at all times, protecting you

He'll walk up to you, but only once the window of opportunity presents itself

The plan is tried and true: walk up and ask if you happen to have light or a cigarette, if you're a smoker too

Even if you don't, he'll then on stick around and try to get some conversation going with you

Uses his charm on you and if everything else fails, he mentions his cat form

       ༺☆༻

At first nothing seems off about Luci

Just a normal checkup, this time with the fallen angel since your usual medical demon, Marbas, was busy helping one of the other countries after a battle with angels

Then you notice the little things

Lucifer wouldn't meet your eyes and barely even touch you

Whenever he turned around, you'd notice how the stubs after his wings flutter, almost as if to relieve some sort of a stress or tension

Also, once you were done, he just left the room and Gamigin jingled into the room to tell you your results

(Poor baby doesn't know how to deal with this type of feelings)

[twinksrepository]

A Blissful Stroll

ating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Smut, Possessive, talk of sex, hot tub sex, penis in vaginal sex, creampie, sex with feelings, unintentional voyeurism, naked, slight BDSM talk

Word count: Roughly 4K

A/N: You can't sleep, and run into Mammon and Lucifer while in the world between worlds. Going for a stroll with Lucifer makes the most sense and you get a surprise you weren't expecting.

Also known as Twink thought of this during the Dark Eternal Bliss event and finally got around to writing it. There might also be one with Diavolo in the near future. We'll see.

Images belong to Solmare.

Tossing and turning on the futon you give up on falling asleep, as much as you’re used to sleeping in different places the thin bedding is just a bit too thin for you to drift off to slumberland easily. Carefully pulling your clothes on, trying to keep the noise down since it sounds as if no one else has the same problem as you right now. 

When you make it to the street you’re just as careful with the door, letting out a soft sigh as the chill of the night air starts to seep along your bare skin. 

Jumping when a warm palm lands on your shoulder and your heart does a double thump, almost screaming at the top of your lungs. Almost. Because after several days here you know it’s someone from your little group of oddballs that just scared the living daylights out of. 

“Ah, oops. Didn’t mean ta scare ya like that.” With a hand on your chest, you turn to face Mammon who doesn’t look all that sorry, if anything he looks excited. “Out for a little midnight treasure huntin’ huh? That’s pretty cunnin’ of ya.” 

At least now you have an idea why the house was so quiet, it sounds more like he’s the one out for some hunting. Giving your head a shake about to tell him you couldn't sleep, only for a deeper voice to speak for you. 

“As if our Little Lamb wouldn’t entertain such frivolous ideas.” Lucifer appears from just inside the house, if you didn’t know any better you’d suspect he heard you getting dressed. “If you can’t sleep, then why not join me for a stroll instead?” He one hundred percent heard you. 

“Pfft, lookin’ for riches with me be way more fun.” Letting out a soft chuckle as you smile at the two of them. Both offers of time alone with them are tempting, but running around looking for treasure with Mammon doesn’t sound like it’s going to help you sleep like the stroll will. 

“Sorry Mams, maybe next time.” Giving his hand a squeeze in condolences as you pass him to stand beside Lucifer. 

“In that case, bestest big bro, you’d better come back before curfew.” You’d laugh at what he says without saying anything. A thinly veiled threat to not keep you out too late, which is rather funny coming from the House of Lamentations resident troublemaker.

“You’re the one most likely to break it. Don’t go causing any trouble.” Sighing with his arms folded across his chest and one of his eyebrows raised. 

“Sure, whatever.” Turning on his heels away from the pair of you with his hands raised. “See ya tomorrow, and don’t let him get too handsy.” A parting shot directed at his brother that has you giggling behind your hand while Lucifer just shakes his head at Mammon’s antics. 

“Shall we?” Holding out your arm as if offering it to Lucifer, watching a brief roll of his eyes at your antics now. Instead of taking it, he slips his arm under yours so he can intertwin your fingers as he starts guiding you down the street and away from your temporary home. 

“It’s almost funny.” His deep voice seems to carry just a bit more in the silent town, you might find it eerie if you weren’t enjoying the warmth seeping from his fingers into yours. 

“What is?” Curious as you let Lucifer lead you along the main drag of the empty town, tracing your thumb along his thumb and index finger. It’s uncommon to feel the dry skin normally clad in leather. 

“Despite being flung to another world without warning, my brother’s behavior hasn’t changed a bit.” He’s not wrong, if anything the only change you noticed was that underlying worry you all seemed to share about trying to get back home. “I suppose it’s because you’re here with us.” 

“Come on, Lucifer.” It’s your turn to shake your head in disbelief even if your face starts to warm. “You guys spent centuries without me, I doubt me being here is making that much of a difference.” 

“There you go with the self depreciation again.” Surprised when he comes to a sudden stop near a bridge and uses your hand to get you to turn and face him. Those crimson orbs have that look of admonishment in them once again. “You’ve always been our cornerstone since you arrived in our lives, grounding us through even the most trying situations.” Raising his free hand to slide it against the apple of your cheek, smiling as you unconsciously start to nuzzle into his palm. “I trust that shows how much you mean to everyone.”

“I’m not really sure I’d call myself a cornerstone.” His eyes start to narrow at your low tone and you let out a short chortle of laughter. “Having all of you nearby always makes me feel safe, so maybe it has more to do with that shared feeling. Being a cornerstone feels like a lot of pressure.” Trying to stop him from a lecture about your bad habits.

“It could be.” Agreeing you watch as something in his eyes shifts, something that has your heart beating faster in your chest. “Just remember, you never have to shoulder everything on your own. I’ll always be here for you.” 

“Oh?” Grinning now, you tilt your face and reach up to grasp his wrist in your hand, keeping his palm in place as you give the meatier part of his hand just under his thumb the briefest press with your lips. “Do I mean that much to you? Personally? So much that you offer to share whatever burden I have?” Teasing him as you flutter your eyelashes. 

Only for Lucifer to surprise you, breaking free from your loose hold and releasing your hand, with a few quick tugs you find yourself with your back against his chest and his arms forming a cage. With the new position you’re on the bridge with his hands resting on the guardrail, both of you looking down at the reflection of the moon on the shifting surface. His breath fanning out across the shell of your ear. “So, you’ve decided to play dumb?” That edge of possessiveness is back in his voice. The one that makes your knees wobble and your throat go dry. “Very well, if you want to hear me say it, I will.” 

Guiding his hands from the wooden beam and crossing them over your body, leaning more of his chest along your back until there’s barely any space between the two of you. The tip of his nose ghosting along the shell of your ear, all you can hear is the raspiness of his breathing while you watch the watery reflection of the two of you. His eyes even through the slopped surface are like two burning embers. “I would chase you to the ends of the earth-whether that happens to be the Devildom, the human world, or somewhere else entirely.” 

It’s hard not to swallow as he whispers in your ear low enough that your stomach clenches. “No matter where you go, I will be right behind you, ready to drag you back to where you belong. No being, demonic or otherwise, will keep me from you.” As if to punctuate his words his arms tighten, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to reinforce his words. “And don’t you dare forget it.” 

Even without the chance of someone walking by the hear him, Lucifer still won’t utter those three words in public. His pride getting in the way even now, but you don’t have the same worry. “I love you too, Lucifer.” Watching his grin grow at your soft words is worth it. Sliding your hands to his arms to get him to loosen his hold on you just enough so you can turn around and face him. “And don’t you forget that.” Shifting your heads so your lips can connect in a tender kiss, one that doesn’t last yet is still laced with emotions. 

You lose track of time for how long the two of you stand like that, it’s only when you start to shiver that Lucifer creates some space. “Come along, let’s finish our stroll.” Staying close to you as if to ward off the chill, and after a few minutes it feels like he’s guiding you somewhere. 

“Lucifer?” Trying to keep your tone even. “Are you taking me somewhere?” 

“A surprise.” Taking another turn before stopping in front of a building that has two entrances.  “I found it earlier today.” 

“Did you seriously find a bathhouse?” Oh, how Asmodeus would have killed to be here soaking in the water. 

“Better.” Thoughts of his brother leave your head as he leads you through the door on one side and back towards the changing area which he skips in it’s entirety. Stopping when he reaches the pool of water, steam rising from the slightly murky surface.

“Ok.” You admit with a laugh. “This is better.” Leaning in to kiss the side of his cheek. “But not better than your declaration on the bridge.” Sporting one of those rare happy Lucifer grins he joins you in a short round of laughter.

“I thought this might help you relax and sleep.” Starting to remove his clothes and folding them to form a neat pile just under the edge of the overhang of the building. As much as you’d like to just stand there and watch him to enjoy the show you’d rather just join him. Plus the idea of the warm water surrounding your skin sounds heavenly right now. 

Lucifer doesn’t take as long as you do, stopping to help you disrobe before taking your hand and helping you down the slick stones. Letting out a sigh of relief as the heat started to seep into your skin right away, and you settled in next to him. “I might have been wrong.” Pausing as he raises one of his eyebrows at you quizzically. “This might be better than you admitting you’d chase after me.” 

A short splash of water is sent your way as he feigns annoyance, it doesn’t last as he curls his arm around the small of your back to tug you closer so your sides are touching. “You truly enjoy trying my patience.” 

“You like having someone keeping you on your toes while not causing trouble.” Letting out a soft snort while letting your head lean against his shoulder, sinking more into the warm water. 

“The fact you think you don’t cause me trouble is audacious.” Feeling his exhale along the top of your forehead before he places his lips there. “The number of times you’re the instigator instead of one of my brothers is laughable.” His voice was tender and you didn’t miss the feeling of him smiling against your skin.  

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” Lifting your hand from the water to rest your palm atop his chest while curling your other hand under the gap between his back and the rock wall. 

“You don’t allow me much choice, Lamb.” You let that statement hang in the air, far more interested in the heat seeping along your skin and into the muscles of your back that were sore from the thinner material that served as your bed. 

It’s nice, just sitting there with Lucifer as his fingers trail along your side under the water a random pattern only he knows etched into your skin. Listening to the swaying of the tree branches in the wind and the sound of his slow breathing. “A bottle of Demonus, a record player, and a cursed record to listen to, this place might feel like home.” 

“Demonus?” Chuckling as he tilts his head more to the side, allowing him better access to the skin of your forehead. “It’s nice of you to think of my preference, however, why do I get the feeling you’d rather a bottle to get me drunk?” His hand slides lower to grip your hip as he whispers his question. 

“I was just thinking of it because you enjoy it.” Craning your neck back so you can look into his eyes, internally grinning at the hint of lust in that adoring gaze. “But now that you’ve brought it up, you are more…” Trailing off as you try to think of the right word.

“Easily taken advantage of?” Chuckling the words himself while you shake your head in the negative. 

“Submissive.” One of those black eyebrows of his raising as if he can’t believe that’s what you went with. “Oh don’t look at me like that.” Giving his butt a quick squeeze under the water. “I mean you’re more likely to let me have the reins instead of just railing me with you doing all the work. You don’t often give me control.” 

“That’s because half the time you get flustered and don’t know what to do.” Feeling the tips of your ears warm, he’s got you there. 

“I’m trying to learn! I’m just…” Trailing off again as your voice lowers until the final words are a whisper. “Not used to that kind of stuff.” By stuff you mean all the ropes and whips he likes to use, vanilla sex, and a few kinks? You’re good. But tying Lucifer up and edging him until he’s a panting whining mess wanting you to degrade about being forced him to cum on his own stomach instead of inside you? 

Yea, you weren’t quite all that confident at that yet. 

As in the farthest you’d gotten was the second denied orgasm and him making a noise you thought was pain and you having to use the safe word because you couldn’t handle the idea of hurting him. He’s never been upset with you not being able to dominate him as your relationship progressed to the point where he wanted you to be in control, a role he so rarely relinquished. But you had this lingering feeling every time after that he was disappointed. 

“You’ll get there my love.” Closing the distance to seal his lips over yours for a quick passionate kiss. “Perhaps we need to work on your skills at the less intense levels more.” Letting out a yelp as you’re quickly scooped up and deposited so you’re straddling his legs while he leans back against the rock wall, your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself balanced. “Tell me what you want, Master.” 

That one word took you from relaxed to aroused in three point five seconds, the amount of time it took for your brain to catch up to what he meant. Your face feels like an inferno as you look down at the water instead of his face. “I swear when you say that Lucifer.” Groaning before you catch his eyes again. “You’re trying to get me all worked up.” 

“If it gets the job done.” Sporting a grin that would look less out of place on his demonic form with his horns. “Now, tell me what you want.” If you’re supposed to be in control he isn’t acting like it with that command in his voice, it doesn’t stop the throbbing in your core either. 

“I um…” Your brain is reeling, because you honestly thought he’d tell you just to ride him and the two of you would work on your dirty talk. Not this. The briefest downturn of his eyes and your mouth moves. “I want you to fuck me, like this.” Lowering your hips so more of your weight settles on his hips. “I’m just going to sit here and watch that handsome face of yours while you pleasure me with your cock.” Swallowing at the outburst as your face feels like actual flames are licking your skin. 

A short boom of laughter from the demon under you before he licks his lips. “As you command, Master.” Fuck. His voice dropping down into a husky rasp and you’re certain if you weren’t around surrounded by water your thighs would have still been just as drenched. A small moan escapes your lips as he slips one of his hands between your bodies and brushes his fingers along your folds. 

“I said your cock, not your fingers.” There’s no force behind the words as you bite your lips, but the second of admonishment on his face is worth it before that grin returns. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were relaxed, Master. I won’t make the same assumption again.” You know he was checking to see if you were already loose enough for him, but tonight you want to feel the burn when he stretches your insides to accommodate him. Another adjustment, and this time you feel the tip of his dick sliding between the skin of your sex. You have no idea how long he’s been hard for but you don’t care, already letting out a string of soft noises of pleasure from the fat head spreading you and bumping into your clit.

“Lucifer~” Sighing his name your hips give a small jerk, chasing that delectable feeling of his cock. Licking your upper lip as you try to regain control of your hips, even if you just want to sink down until he’s deep inside your cunt. “I want you inside me.” 

Using his hand to guide his length inside your tight walls, lifting his hips to gently spread you open. You let out a whine, feeling the pressure inside of you build from each inch of him that forces your body to accept him. Glancing at his face you notice the way he’s biting the corner of his lip, one of his longer canines peeking out. 

It’s hot. 

Add in the way his eyes are lidded and cast downward to the murky water as if he can see the way your slit stretches to accommodate his dick? You’re ready to cum just from that. 

“You’re so tight.” Panting through his teeth as he lifts his hips, shallowly thrusting up into you at a steady pace. Both of his hands are on your hips now to keep you from bouncing around since you told him to do all the work, the tips of your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure is starting to make you feel hazy. “Have I not been giving you enough attention lately? Not been seeing to your wants and needs?” 

“No.” Whining you slide your hands higher along his neck. “It’s from stress.” Lucifer has been anything but a slouch when it comes to your needs, he might be a busy demon but he can usually find time to make you scream his name. Or moan around his length from under his desk. 

“Then just relax, I’ll bring you all the pleasure you could want.” Starting to buck his hips faster now, churning your insides fast enough to have that coil inside of you drawing tighter and tighter. Your walls spasm more and more around his length as if trying to keep him from leaving your body. 

“Lucifer” Panting his name as you drop your forehead to his, your bodies closer changing the angle of how he’s slamming into you. His cock drags along the upper portion of your cunt, and once in a while the dark hairs around his base brush against your clit making your lungs shutter. You’re so close. “Kiss me.” 

Shifting his head back while keeping the connection against your temple, a tentative brush of his lips before he’s moving them with a ferocity against yours that leaves you moaning. Sliding your tongue out to deepen the kiss, almost swooning and cuming on his cock then and there when he mirrors your actions. 

He’s like a drug you can never get enough of. 

Your hands are no longer on his shoulders but gripping the strands of his hair as he bucks his hips faster. The sound of water sloshing around your bodies and against the rocks reaches your ears. Belatedly realizing you aren’t keeping still anymore, rolling your hips in time to his upward thrusts. 

One of his hands is pressed to the center of your back, keeping you close to him, your nipples rubbing against the firm muscles of his chest adding to the stimulation assaulting your senses. Panting and whining into his mouth the pleasure racing through you becomes too much, moaning his name into his mouth as you freeze, lost your orgasm. 

Lucifer doesn’t stop when your pussy starts to squeeze him like a vice, still bucking up into you as he breaks the kiss. Letting your head fall forward to land on his shoulder, he’s so close. “Just breathe Lamb, just breathe. I’m almost there.” His breathing rapid, and the tendons along his neck strained. You feel amazing in your post orgasm slump, all thoughts of letting you boss him around to grow more comfortable gone, replaced by the growing need to empty himself inside you. 

He won’t admit it, not even to you, but the idea of these forced marriages have had him on edge for the past few days. Worried what would happen if you were ever forced into something like that. Worried how he, his brothers, Diavolo, and the others would react to you being forced from their sides. It wouldn’t end well. 

So when he heard you stirring earlier, the idea came to him to take you here. At first, it had just been to relax and unwind, to remind himself you weren’t going anywhere. But the longer you sat beside him in the warm water, the more he wanted to feel you. To watch you come undone for him. 

And you have. 

“Lucifer?” Moaning his name as you come back to your senses, your head bouncing on his shoulder as he keeps moving. 

“Almost there.” Hissed through his teeth before he throws back his head as he slams you down onto his hips. A loud groan that sounded a lot like your name as you felt him cuming inside you, a burning deep in your core from his spent seed. Watching the hammering of his heartbeat in his neck with his eyes closed as he gives a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim before he stops seated deep inside your walls. 

“Damn.” Letting out a tired laugh as you drag your hands out of his hair and trail yours fingers down the pale column of his throat to his collarbones. Ghosting over the sweat slicked skin. “I don’t think you’ve given me a load that big in a while.”

“You haven’t felt that tight in a while.” Muttering the words as he breaths through his nose trying to calm his racing heart before opening his eyes. Leaning in for a quick kiss that borders on tender. “Calling you master does something for me as well.” Admitting as he slides forward so more of him, and you since you’re still attached, is under the water. “Maybe we should get a hot tub for the House of Lamentation.” Sighing the words as he relaxes and you let out a soft giggle. 

“Not if that’s what the two of ya are gonna do in it.” Screaming in surprise and wrapping your arms around Lucifer to try and hide your naked skin. “Didn’t I tell ya not ta let em’ get too handsy!” 

“Mammon!” Snarling his brothers' name as he appears. You’re very much in the same boat as Lucifer right now, partly pissed at being interrupted, partly embarrassed at being found naked with him balls deep in your tender sex. 

So much for a round two that you were hoping for. 

Back to Masterlist

[painted-flag]

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST - aemond targaryen, (Part 1/3)

Story 3 in Between the Pages: a HOTD x Fairytale Series.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader (no use of y/n) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ wordcount: 5.3k .𖥔 ݁ ˖ notes: is this releasing a month after the cregan story? yes, sorry for the delay.

The sound of running water acted as a backdrop to the environment of a small and quaint village. A stream ran through the village, with little bridges allowing people to cross. Each cottage looked like the other, with shingled roofs and white walls outlined with wood beams. At the centre of the town lay its well, surrounded by small vendor stalls. Travellers passed by the town often as it was situated on a main road, but they seldom stayed longer than two days. The populace was little, as low as a hundred. Everyone knew one another, giving you very little privacy. 

If you had a say, you would be living somewhere else. However, this was the place your father had chosen to settle when he met your mother. His dream was to be a well-known inventor, but so far his biggest success was modifying some farming equipment for some of the villagers. You believed in him, truly, but had hoped he would try and land a more stable job to help support the house. The only spare money you had been able to make was on account of your sewing skills by mending dresses. Customers were few, as not many people lived in your area. However, the occasional wandering traveller was far more generous in compensation for your work.

Despite the suffocation, you had no idea of where else to live. You were caught in a sort of purgatory; incredibly willing to leave your current circumstances but incapable of imagining another life. It was not a life you thought you would lead as a child. Dreams of adventure - of finding more in the world - clouded your memories. More often than not you would be caught daydreaming. Your mind would be lost in the fantasies you would conjure to distract from anything else but your reality. 

Fantasies, eventually, can drown someone. 

You continued in your routine, with your hands brushing the familiar spines of books in the quaint library. There were only a few shelves full and you had read each volume no less than three times, some more than others. It was the only supply of reading for what you expected was a few hundred miles. Nobody in your town shared an interest in reading except for the kind old lady who lends out her collection. 

One of the spines, a blue clothbound tome, caught your attention. You had obviously read it before, but it had been a while since your last go-through. You plucked it from the shelf and added it to your wicker basket full of food from the market. You waved goodbye to the lady and exited her home. The warm breeze brushed through your linen clothes and carried further in the air. It was part of the last vestige of summer, with autumn approaching steadily. Leaves had just a wisp of darkening on their edges, growing gradually daily. 

You made your way down the paths, passing each cottage and waving to the residents. You had just stepped onto the street towards your home when a presence came up behind you. The figure snatched the book from your basket and let out a sigh of disappointment. It startled you for a moment. You turned and were not surprised to see Jason Lannister holding the tome in his hands. 

“Reading again? What a waste of time…” His voice, a tone which sparked a tense annoyance in your body, drolled on. You crossed your arms and gave him an unimpressed look. 

Jason was a man who did not fit the status of a ‘man’. Foul is the one word you are sure perfectly encapsulates his personality. He was a hunter, though you doubted any of his kills were done with honour. He carried around a gaudy-looking spear with an oversized tassel on the end and claimed to be a fierce warrior, yet would never go against any of the strong travellers that passed through. He would pick fights with the men, but devise a surprising excuse as to why he could not fight. 

‘I have honour.’

‘It would be unkind to kill a man.’

‘My skills far surpass yours, a fight is not necessary.’

‘It is not appropriate for the women in this village to see such bloodshed.’

To you, it was all a load of horseshit.

“Give it back, Jason.” You were in no mood to converse with him. For years now, he had tried tirelessly to get your attention. Time after time you had said no, yet it has all fallen on deaf ears. 

“Come to the tavern with me,” he did not ask, but demanded, “My recent hunt has been added to the other trophies. I can tell you all about it.” 

There was no better way to ruin your day than to be trapped in a stuffy tavern with countless mounted heads of hunted animals. You reached out and snatched your book back from his grip. The market stall next to you displayed various shiny pots and pans. An idea of escape came to mind. 

“Could I finish looking at these pans, Jason?” You reached out and grabbed one, flipping it over to the flat side. You saw your reflection in the polished silver metal and you moved it to face him. 

“Does this look good?” You questioned. Jason took the pot in his hands but did not seem to register your words. He held it in one hand and used to other to tousle his hair. 

If there was one trait of Jason’s that could be depended upon, it is his vanity. He got caught up in adjusting his appearance and you used that distraction to quickly move away. You jogged across a small stone bridge and down a dirt path to your home. 

It was only in the safety of your home, with the door shut and locked, that you felt the tension leave your shoulders. You could not keep betting on momentary distractions to continue working. Jason was relentless in his pursuit of your hand. You had lost count of the number of times you had to come up with a plan to get away from his presence, and it was beginning to weigh down on you. 

The sound of falling items, clanking and clashing, startled you from your thinking. You placed your basket on the kitchen table and rushed down the stairs to the basement to see your father picking up miscellaneous fallen items. He was on his knees on the ground, mumbling with frustration. 

“Father?” You questioned.

He was startled and moved with a frantic nature to turn to you, “Ah! Do not worry, everything is alright. I just knocked over some things…” He rubbed his forehead and observed the mess around him. 

“Well,” You began while you reached out to help him stand up, “You seem to be in far better happiness than I today.” 

“What happened, dear?” He gave you his full attention. When he read your face, he could tell it was the same expression you had made many times in the past, “It’s that Jason lad again? Oh, if only I could kick that man in the-”

“Father,” You scolded, but secretly would not mind for him to continue, “We are above that.”

“I only wish for you to be safe in my absence.” He spoke while he fiddled with one of his newer inventions. A weird wooden and metal box that served some function you were not entirely sure of.

You leaned against one of the wooden tables and raised a single eyebrow, “Absence?” 

He sighed and set down a tool he was using. You could see that he closed his eyes and waited patiently for an answer. He turned around and cleaned some grease off of his hands with a discarded rag. 

“There is a fair a few towns over. I will be going over to see what I can sell.” He informed you. You nodded and looked at the ground. While you were proud of his work and encouraged him as much as you could, there was still a big burden on your shoulders. The majority of the financials fell on you, as your meagre funds raised through sewing still surpassed his. Money had never mattered to you, but its burden has. 

“How long will you be gone?” You asked him. 

“A few days at most,” He approached and patted you on the shoulder. You returned a tired smile and dismissed yourself from the room to begin making dinner. 

That night was quieter than usual. Your father and you ate in relative silence, only occasionally muttering short topics between one another. It was awkward and undercut by tension. Your father was largely oblivious to it, his mind too focused on the upcoming fair. You pushed the meat around on your plate with your fork while your other hand was propped up and holding your chin. 

After the two of you ate, you cleaned up while he packed his things onto his wagon and prepped his horse. You exited your home and walked down the steps to your father. In your hands was a basket of food of some baked goods that would keep him fed during his short travel. You placed it up on the bench at the front of the wagon, making sure the cover was on tight. 

Your father had hugged you goodbye and cheerfully gotten on his horse. He waved to you before pulling on the reins to get the horse to move. You stood outside for a while, watching as his figure slowly disappeared in the distance. When he was out of sight and the sun had begun to set, you made your way back inside and got ready for bed. 

Despite the frustration of your father's abrupt leaving, you had managed to go to bed with little strife.

⋅───⊱༺ 📚༻⊰───⋅

 Sunlight streamed in from the windows and hit you as you sat perched in a plush chair in your living space. The morning had been uneventful as you worked on some recent sewing projects and returned fixed clothes to some customers. It earned you a meagre amount of coins, but you supposed it was better than nothing. 

You had taken a break and curled up on the chair with some tea and biscuits. Truthfully, these moments were your only moments of reprieve before you would go back to scouring for more sewing projects from those in the village. You had just reached a pivotal moment in the book, one which you knew well because you had read every book there at least once. It was your favourite moment, yet you had to resist slamming it closed after the echoes of someone pounding on your doors shook through the space. 

The book had been placed on the small table next to you and you shrugged off the blanket you had been under. You got up from the seat and walked across the creaking floorboards. The iron hand on your front door was cool as you gripped it. When you opened the door, the grating presence of Jason greeted you. 

Immediately, you wondered if it was too late to close the door and ignore him, however now he knew you were home and would not stop knocking until he got your attention. You kept the door only slightly open, enough so that you could see him. 

“What is it, Jason?” You did not attempt to disguise your displeasure. A few years ago, when he began making his advances, you had tried to be civil. Yet his relentless pursuit had soured you over the years. Even when being foul, it was as if he did not notice or had some weird case of selective hearing. 

He wore a sleazy smile, “You know, I was up all night thinking.”

“You were thinking?” You did not know he could do that. Jason did not indicate picking up on your casual insult. 

“Of my future. I picture a house, with children running around and my wife taking care of them. I would come home from hunting to dinner and watch the children as they played in front of the hearth. My wife would be there to aid me after a long day.” Jason went on his tangent. You did not look at him and chose to peek past him. It was a wonder how he never noticed how little you cared. Perhaps he did but chose to ignore it. Either way, there was no possible scenario where he was a good hunter with observational skills like that. 

“Sounds like quite the picture.” You spoke with a tone of disbelief. 

“Yes, that is why I am here.” Jason stepped forward and you moved to close the door more but his hand reached up and stopped you. You grunted slightly as your strength was not enough to rival his. 

He left no time to respond, “You are to be my wife.” 

Those words, those dreaded words cut through your ears like a sharp knife. You winced and took a step back. Jason took that as an invitation to come in, so he opened the door more and stepped just past the threshold. You were stuck in a moment of frozen horror. That fear soon melted into anger, largely posed by his sheer audacity. 

“Jason, in what bloody realm does that make sense?” You scolded him. He then finally caught on to your attitude and put a hand up to his chest as if he were the one offended in this situation. 

“Well, obviously, you will be my wife.” He reiterated. 

“Well, obviously you have misread this situation. I mean, for years I have insulted you endlessly, yet I am ceaselessly tormented by your presence.” You were exasperated but also had an inkling of fear. Your father was not here to defend you. This house was positioned further from the other in the village and you worried that nobody would hear and come to your aid. 

“What do you mean?” Jason was still clueless. You did not know if it was intentional, but regardless it managed to anger you further. 

“What do I mean?” You begin to push on his chest, moving his body across the threshold and back outside. “I mean that you are a foul, uncharismatic, and downright vile being with enough patience and perception to fill a thimble!” You grabbed the door and went to slam it, but stopped it to leave a sliver of space. 

“And by the way, there is no force in this realm to ever get me to consider your offer. I’d sooner jump into a boiling cauldron. Now leave me alone before I get the town guard!” You slammed the door in his face and locked it quickly; both the bolt of the handle and a wooden plank to block it. 

Yet Jason did not seem done and yelled through the door, “You worked today and I assume your womanly mind is overwhelmed. I’ll let this slide.” He then stomped away. His words angered you further. If it was not an egregious crime, you would surely open the door, grab the nearest solid metal object, and give his head a good thwack. 

For a long time after he left, you ruminated on your words. You were so caught up in the moment, that you had no control over your speach. You wished you had been harsher, perhaps thrown in a few curses to drive home your points. Nevertheless, you had managed to get him off of your trail for the day. 

This home felt too stifling and you needed to leave. A hill just outside of the village boundaries, with a tree on top, was calling to you. It had been a particularly favourite spot of yours, as most people did not wander there. So you grabbed the book you had been reading, donned a cloak to protect from the approaching cool of the late day, and marched out of your house. 

Through the village, past the baker's house, over a hill and across the stones of a shallow stream was the place you always gravitated towards. It was calm. The light breeze shook the willow branches. The leaves brushed against one another, providing a relaxing soundscape for you to read with. 

You had begun to settle down when the crushing of hooves over grass disrupted your moment of peace. There was underlying worry that it was perhaps Jason, but the horse in the distance had no rider. When it got closer, you realized it was your fathers. A sinking feeling made its way into your stomach. 

The horse was grunting with distress. His head swung back and forth and you had to grab the cheekpiece of the bridle and start humming gently to calm him down. You looked around the expanse of the field for any sight of your father but saw none. There was nothing but worry that coursed through you. 

“What is, bud?” You questioned the horse. You decided to climb onto the saddle and get comfortable. You leaned down to his ears and whispered, “Take me to him.” 

Your father's horse did not wait a second longer before immediately running off in the direction he came from. By the time you made it to the treeline, the sun had begun to set. You hugged the cloak tighter around your form. The horse did not show any signs of fatigue as he trotted carefully and skillfully through the woods. 

Time passed very slowly as worry for your father grew. You were scared that something grave had happened to him. Surely this was a misunderstanding. Perhaps he had set up camp for the night and his horse got free and decided to go home. You had begun to become weary and tired. The horse had eventually slowed down and now you were riding through the woods slowly. 

It was late, incredibly late, and you regret not having stopped at home to pick up food. Your stomach rumbled every few minutes and the exhaustion in your body had picked up. The trees stopped and you entered an open space at the bottom of sharp jagged mountains. You had ridden to a large wrought iron gate that had vines, mostly dead, crawling up the spokes. The ground had turned to a stone brick path that was overgrown with grass and weeds. 

Just a while down the path was a large mansion that looked like a castle. It was built from the same stone as the path and appeared derelict. There was no way people lived here, as it looked as though it had been abandoned for a long time. You hopped off the horse and grabbed the reins to guide him. You walked to the gate and saw that there was no lock on it. You pushed it open and with a horrifying creak, the gate doors moved. 

You walked down the path and towards the castle doors. They were large double wooden doors reinforced by the same style of iron as the gate. A knocker was located on both of the doors where a handle would be. It was iron cast and shaped like the head of a dragon. In its closed jaw sat a ring that you would use to bang against the wood. You grabbed it gingerly and banged it against the wood. The thumping sound reverberated through the door. You wanted to make sure that no person was living here in case you happened to be intruding. 

“Hello? Does anybody live here?” You waited a moment, but no response came. You looked back at your horse that was tied off to a tree before braving it and pushing on the door. Surprisingly, like the iron gate, it opened. 

Like prey falling into a trap, you walked into the dark corridors of the castle.

There was no source of light save the moon as it fluttered in through the stained glass windows. The faint colours of the glass cast a gossamer veil of light over the thick antique rugs that ran the length of the entryway. It was a vast entry space that had two staircases that wrapped around the outer edge of the circle room. The stairs led up to a platform and joined into one and led to the upper levels of the castle. Ahead of you, between the two stairs, was another set of double wooden doors. To the left and right were large archways leading to more areas of the castle.

“Hello?” You asked again but achieved no response. There was, by the door you had entered, a standing storage desk. You walked to it and saw the thick coat of dust that covered the top. To your luck, there was a bronze chamberstick candle holder with a candle. You looked around for anything to light it with and found two pieces of flint and steel. There was no hearth around to transfer the flame, so you struggled for a moment to light the candle with the flint and steel. 

With a few nicks, you were able to light the candle. You put the tools down and picked up the handle. You felt just a little better knowing you had a source of light with you. There was no reason behind where you chose to walk other than a gut feeling. You ascended the stairwell and to the next floor, wandering through corridor after corridor. The entire castle was still decorated with elaborate furniture and interesting paintings and tapestries. 

Your trip had gone across an expanse of the castle and you wondered just how large it was. You reached a tower area and decided to go up the stone steps. The dark was occasionally broken up by a stained glass window; reds, blues, greens, and yellows of all shades would be cast against the stone of the centre winding wall. 

At the top of the stairs was a door. You grabbed the iron handle and pushed it open. Inside was a caged area, but it was too dark to see past it. You inched in and held the candle out in front of you. At the far wall was a figure hunched down and shaking in the cold. They moved their cloak away from their face and you instantly recognized it. 

“Father?”

He looked at you for a moment before moving to the bars of the cell, “Darling, what are you doing here? You must go!” You approached where he was and knelt. The candle was placed beside you. Your hands grasped his that were on the bars. His face was pale and hair sweaty; sickness had taken hold of him.

“What do you mean? Father, why are you here?” You questioned. Your father opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden sound of the door slamming shut disrupted you two. The force from the slam blew the candle out and the room was shrouded in darkness. A small window cast a single ray of white light that hit the centre of the room. You turned around and looked into the shadows, but were unable to find anything except the sound of shuffled movements. 

A voice, deep and imposing, boomed from the shadows, “Who are you? How dare you trespass on these grounds?” It sent a shiver up your spine and swirled at the base of your neck where some sweat had begun to form. You sucked in a breath for a moment and steeled yourself to answer. 

You spoke your name, then hardened your voice, “Why is my father locked up?” In the darkness, you could barely see a wisp of movement, but the figure appeared tall. Their voice came out rough and did not entirely sound human. 

“He trespassed on these grounds.” The figure moved about the darkness and you could hear the sounds they made on the stones. 

“Surely that warrants something other than being locked up? Don't you see that he is sick?” You tried to reason. Your heart rate had shot up and you could feel the fear and adrenaline course through your veins. 

“Then he should not have stepped foot on land that is not his.” The deep tones of the voice could be felt in your bones. 

“But he’ll die. Please, I’ll do anything.” You turned your body away from your father to face the direction of the voice. 

“There is nothing you can do to change his status as my prisoner.” It was a cold response, laced with malice. You know you should not say it, but an idea had come to your head; one that just may grant your father freedom to leave and get help for whatever sickness he contracted. 

“Take me.” You were almost hesitant, but there was an underlying strength in the way you carried yourself. 

The figure did not respond for a moment, letting a lull insert itself into your conversation, “...You would take his place?” They sounded almost surprised at your declaration; caught off guard by the unfettered love and loyalty displayed towards your father. 

“Will you let him go?” You punctuated every word to get the point across. If there was a guarantee for your father’s freedom, you would make the deal in a heartbeat. 

“You must stay here.” The figure affirmed. 

“Come into the light.” You would not swear until you saw who you were speaking to; who would ultimately be your captor. The dark figure moved swiftly, lumbering into the stream of white moonlight. 

The whole time, with the monstrous voice and lurking shadow, you believed it would be a gnarly creature, but became surprised. He was tall and had a lithe but built form shrouded in black and dark greys. His features were as sharp as the cut frames of the stained glass you saw while wandering the castle. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jaw that came down to a point. His lips were pursed into a sort of snarl. 

What frightened you most of all was the jagged scar that cut through the left side of his face. His eye was covered with an eyepatch that sat on the crown of his head and brushed over the long silver hair that glowed in the moonlight. The animosity that reflected in his one eye, strangely violet, made your breath hitch. 

He was not a monster, just a man. 

Though, you supposed there may not have been much of a difference in those two things. 

Now that you have seen your captor, you relinquished your freedom, “I’ll stay here.” At your words, your father began to protest, but you paid no mind. All you were trying to do was memorize what little of your father's face you could see and stop the tears that came running down your face, leaving the skin red and raw. 

The man moved forward and pulled out a metal circle filled with countless different-sized keys. He unlocked the cage with a harsh shudder. Your father surged forward and wrapped you in a hug, both of your bodies sitting on the cold stone floor. 

“Why did you do that? Darling, why?” He held your face between his hands. The man reached forth and seized the collar of your father's shirt and pulled him along. You were subsequently pushed into the cell and forced to hear the door lock. 

“Wait, can’t I say goodbye?” You yelled from behind the bars. Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal and you could do nothing but watch on helplessly as you heard your father be dragged down the steps. At this point, your gentle cries had been reduced to sobs. 

You did not know how much time had passed until the man came back again. You sat in the centre of the cell, barely able to move. That was the last time you would ever see your father, the last time you would be a free woman. The silver haired man came forward with a large candle, though his hand made the holder look small. 

When he approached the cell, you instantly backed away. In your eyes was both apprehension and fear. You did not know what he would do next. Would he hurt you? Mock you in your permanent isolation? Or simply come to the conclusion that it was not worth keeping you and throw you from the top of the tower?

He unlocked the door and gave you an expectant look, “Are you coming or not?” 

“So you could hurt me?” Your voiced was laced with venom. He rolled his eye at your attitude and moved forward to grab your upper arm. His grip was tight as he pulled you out of the cell. His back was to you and you hit it multiple times to try and get him to let you go, but his strength far surpassed yours. You gave up quickly after recognizing there would be no way out. 

He led you back down a familiar path to the front entrance to the castle, but went across the landing of the stairs and to another wing. You looked around and spotted the same decor as the other wing. This time, the wing was lit with candles and looked lived in. The light provided some warmth as well since the rest of the castle retained all the cold air from outside. 

“You will have your own room. You may go wherever you please, but the west wing is strictly off limits.” He informed you. This whole time you had yet to learn his name. Would you ever? He seems too elusive to offer answers to anything and in the short time you had known him, he only ever answered questions with as little words as possible. He forced them out like socializing was a heavy burden or deeply hurt. 

“Why is the west wing off limits?” You asked. He stopped in his tracks and turned to you. His hold squeezed for a moment and he looked to be holding back rage. You shrinked in your spot. The two of you had stopped in front of some doors and he used his free arm to open it. He all but shoved you in. 

The room was large. A four poster bed, carved from dark wood, had a canopy of sheer black silk curtains. The floor was covered in layered antique rugs, all mostly red and black; a colour theme that you had noticed littered the entire castle. A fire was roaring in the hearth, intricate stone carvings decorated the arch of it. The whole room was luxurious, but it was your prison. 

“Dinner will be ready shortly.” He informed you as you stood there. Your gaze then went back to him. He stood by the door and had his forearm resting on the wood of the door and leaned against it. He was regarding you with an inquisitive gaze; analyzing your every move. He seemed content in the information he shared and went to leave. 

“Wait,” You called out and he returned to watching you, “I’ve told you my name.”

“That you have,” He spoke. You nearly huffed, but it was difficult to speak or moved the muscles in your face as the crying you had done no longer hurt, but left a numb tingling feeling behind that was awkward to deal with. 

“What’s yours?” You questioned. Your hands joined behind your back and you did not know why a sudden feeling of bashfullness washed over you. He judged you for a moment, as if contemplating his words. 

With a tone of reluctance, he answered, “Aemond.”

He swiftly left the room and closed the door behind him. Here was where you were left and forced to stomach the reality of your situation. You looked around the room, a place you will likely be in until the moment you died. The place all looked warm and inviting, but you were full of constant fear. 

This room had become the hallowed shell of your new life, but you would not sit and cry anymore; many things can grow strong in darkness. A newfound determination built within you. You would not let Aemond crush your spirit.

⋅───⊱༺ 📚༻⊰───⋅

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[zweigsangel]

girl pls do another hockey chrisss 😪😪 im obsessed (ily) xoxo 💫

hockeyplayer!chris catches ballerina!reader talking about him w her friends ── .✦ divider: @faeberrywine

it was a familiar routine for you. for all of you. the dance studio’s locker room was always filled with soft chatter and the sound of zippers being pulled open, bags carelessly thrown into the corners. you and your dance companions would sit in a loose circle on the floor, legs crossed, dressed in your casual clothes after class, hair still damp from sweat. the smell of perfume and deodorant mixed with the faint scent of the wooden floor, the air warm from the workout.

“so, tell us about chris!” one of the girls teased, her voice light and curious, a smirk on her lips. all eyes turned to you, their faces expectant, as if this was the highlight of the post-class ritual. giggles bubbled up from the group.

they knew about him. of course, they did. they had seen him waiting outside, leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, always there at the same time to pick you up. it had become a regular sight, and with each class, their curiosity grew.

you tried to fight it, tried to suppress the smile that was already tugging at the corners of your mouth. biting your lip, you glanced down, but it was no use. every time someone mentioned his name, it was like your face had a mind of its own. you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread across your cheeks, the small smile that crept up despite yourself.

“he’s…” you paused, the words lingering on your tongue, before you finally gave in, “he’s amazing. perfect.” the girls erupted into more giggles, nudging each other knowingly.

“he's just... different,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but in that intimate space, everyone heard you. “he listens, y’know? like, really listens. when i'm with him, it feels like... like i can really be myself.”

there was a brief pause, the kind where you could almost feel everyone processing your words. then, a chorus of sighs erupted from the group, exaggerated but playful. “ugh, stop, you're making it impossible for the rest of us!” one of them groaned dramatically, tossing her head back.

you laughed, shaking your head, the warmth in your chest growing. one of the girls leaned in, her eyes wide with mock envy, “you're basically living in a rom-com!”

the room was filled with teasing smiles and shared glances, the kind of easy connection that came from being young and in the midst of discovering love, even if only through each other’s stories.

“and he does this thing where he—“ you started, a soft smile playing on your lips as you remembered the way he always brushed a strand of hair behind your ear when you talked, like it was second nature to him. but before you could finish, the door to the locker room creaked open, and there he was. chris, leaning casually in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame, the other tucked into his pocket. his eyes found yours immediately, and that familiar, effortless smile spread across his face.

“all set, angel?” the room fell silent for a beat, and you could feel every pair of eyes on you, the teasing smirks practically glowing in the air. “speak of the devil...”one of the girls whispered, breaking the silence with a round of chuckles.

you rolled your eyes playfully at your friends, grabbing your bag and standing up. as you walked toward the door, with chris waiting there with his relaxed smile, almost instantly, the the girls exclaimed, “byee!” their voices exaggerated, hands waving dramatically like they were sending you off after a performance.

chris raised an eyebrow, amused, and gave a small wave, playing along perfectly. “bye, girls,” he responded, as he casually slipped his arm around your shoulder and the two of you headed for the door.

their laughter echoed behind you as you left, and you shook your head, grinning to yourself. he grabbed your bag with his other arm, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder. “how are you?” you asked, a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him.

“good, good,” he replied casually, then a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “so, i'm perfect, huh?”

your eyes widened in surprise for a second, heat rushing to your cheeks. you playfully shoved his arm, realizing he'd overheard the conversation in the locker room. “oh my god! you heard that!”

he chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “just caught the end of it,” he teased, “but don’t worry, i won’t let it go to my head... too much.”

before you could respond, he tightened his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. with a soft laugh, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. “you are perfect, angel,” he murmured, and in that moment, you couldn’t be happier.

[autisticjoshrusso]

its gonna take me awhile to digest all my thoughts from that ep, and while they're mostly positive, gotta get this one standout gripe out of the way.

WHY would you ever, in today's political climate, decide to reference Harry Potter? First of all, it's already dated as hell, I don't even remember the last kid I'd heard of reading it besides the literal children of obsessed fans. Second of all the everything about JKR and the bigotry that she not only imbued in the work but continues to espouse daily on social media.

Like what are you guys doing. You could have picked any media, you could have gone back to Star Wars like they already referenced once. There's SO many choices of things you could have picked for the throwaway line to show that Chimney and Mara are bonding and set up that potential conflict there.

[tac-the-unseen]

OUAGH the last one gave me the idea of a musician reader x slasher

If I were to suggest a specific genre maybe they’re into rock because. Yeah.

Could you do something with that?

Slashers x Musician Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Plays it off but thinks it cool as hell

•He did play the piano for a very short time in his childhood, but the ward made him very rusty 

•Will happily watch any concerts you put on for him

•Will Secretly watch you if you don't 

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•They both immediately pitch in a song request 

•They bring up the fact that you play an instrument to win arguments with people 

•Will eventually find a way to break your instrument 

•They will be very apologetic about it 

•attempts to replace it 

Thomas Hewitt:

•very interested 

•He's curious by nature, he wants to know everything he can about it 

•Your instrument is the most expensive thing in the house 

•daydreams about being able to play a song for you, one day

•until then, he'll try to figure it out himself 

Bubba Sawyer:

•Tries to sing along when you play

•he also dances but always ends up knocking stuff over

•Will sit in front of the door so her brothers can't get in while you're playing

•They constantly complain about the racket 

•Chop-top will occasionally sit in while you play 

Bo Sinclair:

•immediately shows you his acoustic 

•brags about how he can out play you

•loses miserably because he only practiced for a couple months 

•mad about it

•polishes its case whenever he comes around to it 

Vincent Sinclair:

•romanticizes it by thinking about how you're two different types of artists 

•Sketches you playing your instrument 

•Sheepishly asks you to pose

•makes a mini wax sculpture of your instrument 

•He get super giddy if you play a song for him

Lester Sinclair:

•extremely impressed 

•He's always thought of being able to play an instrument as a high class/rich person activity 

•Falls asleep while you play, Not because you're boring, But because he finds it soothing 

•will find out how to care for your instrument so he can help repair any damages it might face

Billy Lenz:

•probably was the reason He zeroed in on you in the first place 

•fines it incredibly alluring and wanted you to play all the time 

•Will find a way to get his grubby hands on your instrument 

•Will eventually break it but not feel sorry 

•(Not So) patiently waits for you to get it fixed

Brahms Heelshire:

•He can play the piano and just uses it as another excuse to hang out with you 

•looks up songs to properly make a duet with you 

•whenever conversations died down or get a little stale, he whips out the instrument card 

•whether you did or didn't know how to play an instrument he's going to romanticize it anyway 

Hannibal Lecter:

•insists on making some kind of duet with you, and whether or not your instruments align with each other 

•buy stuff to make for your instrument is a mint condition 

•’humbly’ braggs about your talent at his dinner parties 

•Will make you food associated with your instrument(s) (look that up, it's a real thing because of course it is)

Will Graham:

•Like to watch you play whatever it is you play

•He's never really had any interest in instruments, But he starts listening to videos featuring your instrument. 

•Casually asks Hannibal facts about your instrument 

•makes you a little charm related to your instrument to put on your keychain 

•Has flashbacks to the guy with his throat turned into a Cello 

The Lost Boys:

•They all at some point have picked up an instrument 

•David can play the Piano, Organ, violin, and guitar

•Dwayne can play the Hand drums, flute, and Bass guitar

•Paul can play the clarinet, electric guitar, French horn, and marimba 

•Marko can play the Drums, Harp, Cello, and viola

•They have all genuinely considered starting a band 

•No matter what you play, you'll fit in

Thanks for reading <3

I went for a more neutral tone with this fic. Because I don't want to write 16 other fanfics about specific music genres ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠🎀)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[agatharkn3ss]

Spoilers!

Theory on Agatha/Rio past

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We know Rio joins the coven next week, climbing out of (what looks like) Sharon's grave and will be part of the next trial.

We also get a sneak peak on how the trial starts - but in the extended version, after the coven disperses to find the clue, we see Rio standing behind Agatha and saying "boo". Agatha seems stirred but eventually she replies a very decisive "No".

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAEWgBZIVeT/?igsh=MW5wcHJtbjJ1N3I3NA==

Now - I, for one, would love this brief moment to be about the sexual tension and how they can't keep away from each other. However, I think Rio's unspoken suggestion is actually about killing the rest of the coven. Especially that in another promo we hear Agatha telling Rio that "she needs these witches to get her what she wants".

So I think their past might be something like they were always just the two of them together against the world, and that they used to find witches for Agatha to syphon power from, and Rio would help her. This would sit well with Rio's chaotic energy and the theory that she's Lady Death.

I also think that despite all her bravado, Agatha actually longs to be a part of a coven. After her own mother's coven turner against her, she would've tried to form her own sisterhood. We see in a promo that she's sucking energy from a group of women around her, so probably another coven turning against her for whatever transgression this time.

It's probably caused by something Agatha did (although in my eyes she can do no wrong!), but I wonder if at some point Rio doesn't start meddling here.

Maybe Rio meets Agatha and becomes fascinated by this loud and unapologetic witch, so she wants her all for herself. She starts meddling so that Agatha is more and more isolated and betrayed by other witches and begins to think that maybe a coven is not something she wants any more and that she can only rely on herself and Rio. Eventually she gives in and the two of them enjoy their lives together, causing chaos and tricking other witches for a few centuries - something akin to Louis and Lestat in the Interview with the Vampire (maybe they even split up because of a child, like the vampires?)

We don't know how long it's been since they've been apart, but we know it's since Agatha acquired the Darkhold, so probably a fair chunk. But now Rio found her again and she misses Agatha and wants back the chaos life they led. She was never intent on killing Agatha, I don't think, but she wanted to see her hurt. But when she finds out Agatha doesn't have her powers, she realises it will be tricky to go back to where they were until Agatha has magic again. She starts scheming again, maybe she even hopes that Agatha will be able to syphon the Salem Seven? Or that Rio can play the hero, save Agatha and show her how much Agatha needs her?

But instead of fighting or running, Agatha assembles a coven. And she actually seems to enjoy it - I mean, look at them singing the ballad. Even though Agatha is impatient to open the gate or get some magic blasts flowing, she does take a pause at the end of the song, clearly enjoying it.

In episode 3 she has her soft moments too. She clearly doesn't feel like part of the sisterhood yet, because she's wary of her past experiences - she tries to protect herself by offsetting any moments of kindness with some jerk behaviour (I think that's the only reason she kicked everyone after sliding out or the first trial) and show them she doesn't need them. But you can tell she fits into her role as a leader so well and maybe even is surprised by it. And just look how she enjoys herself in episode 4 band!

I think Rio is opportunistic, so after Sharon's send off, she sees her way in, but what are her intentions for joining?

She might just enjoy the chaos and hope for fun "like the old times", maybe expecting Agatha to intend to kill the witches like before. Or she might want to keep meddling so that Agatha doesn't abandon her for a coven. Or there is something else and she actually wants something from the Road? Or all of the above?