#this secret dungeon was so fucking long

[weaselweaselweasel]

Is anyone here REALLY hoping for a friendship between Timmy and Francis

Like. We have Timmy. Literally lived the Truman show but worse for his entire life where everyone around him wasn’t even real, they were all fucking robots made by his abusive father. The abstractions of his mother were all programmed to hate him despite how much he remembers the real Trudy loving him so much. His dad crashed out at the end and tried to lobotomize him and robotify him like he did to his mother. And now he’s finally free and probably very unsure what to do with himself

And then we have Francis! We know all about Francis. Most bullied boy in school, clearly wasn’t able to connect to any of his peers and developed a very violent personality from that. But also… shot the face off Timmy’s abuser. Gotta count for something

Like guys hear me out, two teenage boys just HAPPEN to present themselves as being majorly fucked up by virtue of their fucked up interpersonal relationships and/or lack of relationships at all. And now both of them are here, and both of them are real, and I think Francis and Timmy should be best friends forever and live together in a bachelor pad until they die from a co-assisted suicide idfk

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[gotta-winwin]

(🐍) ... minghao x reader

⭐ starring: minghao

💌 genre/wc: angst, light fluff / 1.2k

💬 preview: you stumble across old records from a damaged diary that seems to hold the conversations between a student and a boy living within the pages.

tw/cw: slytherin!minghao x hufflepuff!reader, diary format, spoliers for the chamber of secrets, needs previous knowledge of hp lore, abstract death, tom riddle appearance

🪽fic rating: pg

☁️ masterlist & a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i'm putting it out in hopes of giving myself some time to work on other stuff hehe. this one's a bit experimental with the format but hope you all enjoy!

p.s thank you so much to @ylangelegy and @diamonddaze01 for beta reading !

hello. fifth year slytherin, here. i found this journal lying in one of the professor’s cupboards - long abandoned, it seems. it looks to contain the mad ramblings of two people, conversing through the pages. i cannot seem to figure out who this once belonged to, pages have been torn out and blurred by water - so i’m writing in hopes another student might. 

read it, and let me know if anything comes to mind. 

if i have to sit through another class with professor bins, i will avada myself. 

finally, something worth replying to. your class notes are utterly boring. 

WHAT THE FUCK THE BOOK SPEAKS

…yes, i speak. 

go away. you’re speaking over my class notes. 

they weren’t good notes anyways. barely competent. abysmally below average. 

i cannot believe i’m being insulted by a book right now.

i cannot believe my pristine pages are being vandalized by an incompetent student, yet here we are. 

mr. book, 

what. 

shut up.

mr. book,

what is it now, incompetent student? 

can you write my notes for me. pls pls pls i will owe you for life.

that is a very dangerous game to play. 

my hand hurts. and you keep saying you’re so smart. write my notes for me.

what house are you in?

hufflepuff. why? 

no. i will not write your notes for you. 

bro. 

what is a bro ?? 

you know what, never mind. i’ll write them myself. i hope the ink drowns you. 

incompetent student  hufflepuff girl y/n?? respond to me now. 

yes, book?

MY NAME IS NOT BOOK 

you refused to tell me your name so i’m sticking with book. mr. book. 

can you go to the dungeon bathroom and check one of the faucets for me. 

uh. why? 

because i said so. 

i’m going to waterboard your pages.

you’re quite snappy for a hufflepuff. just go check. 

say please.

no. 

i’m holding a cup of water above you right now.  hello? mr. book?

please. check the faucets. 

see? wasn’t so difficult. i’ll go now.

minghao. 

what? 

my name. stop calling me mr. book

MINGHAOOO

what. 

i’m bored. 

silly girl. and what am i supposed to do about that?

tell me about yourself. when were you at hogwarts? 

a long time ago. 

psh. of course i know that. 

professor bins was still alive when he taught me. just as boring, trust me. 

ooo what else? who were your friends? anyone famous? 

i wouldn’t know. i never graduated. 

what? 

the faucet. did you check? 

i did. there’s like a snake or something, but it didn’t do anything. 

oh. y/n? 

yeah? 

don’t go to that bathroom anymore. 

why?

just don’t. 

hao. people are saying there’s a snake in the walls. 

what do you mean?

there was blood on the walls too. talking about the chamber of secrets. 

fuck. 

minghao? do you know something? 

don’t go anywhere alone. promise me. stay with your friends. 

i’m scared

you should be.

stop that. 

what? hao? 

grown fond of your little friend, xu minghao? 

tom. stop.  i’m sorry, my heart. ignore him. 

who? hao, what is going on?

has he neglected to tell you? he isn’t the only inhabitant of this journal. and turns out, he isn’t strong enough to silence me.  keep hiding, y/n. i’ll find you soon enough. 

hao? 

i’m sorry.

i think i’m starting to go a bit crazy. 

is everything alright? are you safe? 

i’m fine, hao. you worry too much. 

i must admit that i’ve grown fond of you. 

even if i’m a hufflepuff? 

you’re the most tolerable hufflepuff i know. 

:)  is the uh. tom guy still with us?

my magic suppresses him in short periods of time. we’re alone at the moment. 

i still don’t understand. both of you are…inside the book. 

tom was here first. the journal was given to me my fifth year, and i spoke to him - much like you right now. from what i’ve gathered, this journal holds a piece of his soul. and a piece of mine as well. 

how? why? 

[redacted] [redacted] 

you are beginning to care for the girl.

i admit she has grown on me.

no. you’ve grown to love her. our souls are intertwined whether you enjoy it or not. do not pretend i cannot feel your emotions. 

have mercy.  spare her. 

are you finally regretting your choice, xu minghao?  you once promised me a life in exchange for your life and access to your soulmate. so i spared you, and stored you here with me.

please. 

this is what greed gets you, my dear friend.  you promised me a life. and i choose hers.

please. 

finally. you learn to beg. 

she is innocent. 

she is your soulmate. the strongest magic our world has. and for that, she is valuable. 

my heart. 

hao? 

i need you to destroy this journal. now.  

what? why? 

tom must be stopped. i will not let him harm you. destroying the journal will destroy his soul too.

but you’re in the journal too.

yes. a small price to pay for your life. 

i won’t do it. 

you must.

no. i’m not killing you.

i’ve been dead for a long time, my heart. 

i won’t. you cannot make me. 

you’re wetting the pages with your tears. stop crying. 

hao…

do it. just because the journal is gone doesn’t mean i won’t be with you. every step of the way. 

how cute. 

note: 

> xu minghao: previous slytherin student, renowned potion student. his name is on one of the potion award plaques in the great hall. he died during the second opening of the chamber of secrets, an underground location rumoured to house the slytherin basilisk. 

> y/n: referred to as ‘my heart,’ there is no real indication of who she is. while there is a professor portrait in the headmaster’s office who shares the same name, i cannot be certain they are the same person. 

> tom: he can only be assumed as he-who-shall-not-be-named, a dark wizard who was killed by the-boy-who-lived years ago. 

note: 

> the pages are burnt at the edges, erasing most of the conversation that would allow this to make more sense. it is clear to me that someone destroyed this. 

note: 

> i found something when searching the bathroom mentioned in the first couple entries. i will clip it here. 

is he gone?

for now. i cannot contain him for much longer. you must hurry.

you cannot expect me to do this.

from the short time i’ve come to know you, i know that despite being a hufflepuff, you hold the courage of a gryffindor, the brains of ravenclaw, the wit of a slytherin.  do not be afraid. 

are you not afraid? this could kill you.

i have to admit a part of me still fears death after all this time.  but this is my price to pay. i love you, even in the short time we had. 

i love you. even if this version of you is only a figment of what you were. 

note: 

> a point i must bring up: minghao refers to y/n as ‘my heart.’ at first i thought it was just a term of endearment, but upon further research:  Soulmates are rare in the wizarding world, although not at all impossible. Soulmates share more than their magic, they share their hearts. One cannot die if the other is still alive -- making soulmates the most powerful form of magic to exist. It may be the only way to cheat death without the use of a horcrux.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA - How they comfort you - I

Dedicated to my dear friend @marsoverthestars.

Summary: Your peers notice you've hit a rough patch lately and want to help.

Warnings: Pure fluff, comfort, mentions of depression, mentions of unhealthy habits.

It was no secret: you were going through it. Life was ju8st currently putting you through the wringer and you were beginning to feel like a damp, laundered rag. Due to having a quirk heavily affected by your emotions, every soul around you could feel your upset, as if your depressive mood chipped the very paint off the walls. Luckily for you, they know just the trick to help you out of your funk!

Yuga Aoyama:

"Out of bed, mon amie." Yuga chirped, letting himself into your room, throwing the curtains open. You hissed at the sudden flood of light.

"Aoyama, shut the curtains!" you protested, pulling your comforter over your head and rolling over.

"Not today, cheri," He persisted, tearing your covers from you.

"You've been locked away in this dungeon for far too long, my dear, and I'm afraid you're beginning to smell." He smirked, pulling you out of bed by your wrist, forcefully but with care.

"Gee, thanks..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes, nonchalantly sniffing your underarm before wincing. "Fuck, I do smell."

"Langauge, amie," He reminded, sifting through your dresser. "But yes, you do, and worse than that, you're loosing your sparkle and that simply won't do." He stood straight, a bundle of clothes in his arms, smiling warmly. "For this time only, I will grant you access to my luxury bath salts, so make sure and enjoy them while you can."

He shooed you out of your own room, shoving your clothes into your arms. "No off with you, towels warm and the bathwater is boiling. Go take care of yourself, darling."

Mina Ashido:

Mina hadn't seen any sign of you in days, worrying her to bits. She knew you tended to seclude yourself when you were down, and she did try to respect that. She'd comb through TikTok, bombarding your inbox with memes, edits of your favorite characters, and 'us' slideshows, but when you would simply heart them (if you responded at all), she couldn't take it anymore.

"(Y/N), are you in there?" She asked cautiously from the hall, knocking softly. "Can I come in, please? I miss you!"

You trudge to the door, wrapped in melancholy and a stale blanket. "What is it, Mina?" To your surprise, she threw her arms around you, tearing up as she saw your disheveled state.

"Whatever it is, I'm sorry!" she lamented, squeezing you tightly. "Whatever is bothering you, we can talk about it, please don't shut yourself away from me!" You'd never seen her so upset outside of battle. She was typically so bubbly, was she that concerned. "Everyone's so worried about you..."

"M-Me...?"" you repeat, not having realized how important you were to others.

"Please, if you won't come out, at least let me in..." she begged, pulling back with an earnest look, onyx scaleras glistening with worry. To her relief and yous, you relented, letting her inside.

Tsuyu Asui:

Tsu had noticed you withdrawing from your peers long before you actually had. First, you wouldn't talk as much in class, then you began eating lunch alone and declining invites out, and then, one day, you disappeared entirely.

She wasn't entirely sure how to go about comforting you, but it was obvious to her you were having a hard time. At first, she just left you alone, thinking you might have needed space, but then she began to wonder if there was something more she could do. Then it came to her, she was a big sister, she was so good at giving comfort to others. She'd just do for you what she'd do her her siblings.

"You you like a hug, ribbit?" the question caught you off guard as you stood in the kitchen, drink in hand, one of the rare occasions you left your room.

"What?"

"I've noticed you've been having a hard time, would you like a hug, ribbit?" She asked, offering you her arms. "I know being part frog, I'm a little awkward to hug, but when my little siblings were upset, I'd-" You didn't care how her slouched back back it odd for you to do it, you wrapped your arms around her, tears streamiong down your face.

"Yes, a hug would be wonderful, Tsu..." you answered with a sniffle. "Thank you." She happily enveloped you in a warm embrace, stroking her thumbs over your shoulders.

"Happy to help, ribbit," she beamed, resting her head on your shoulder. "I'm happy to give you as many hugs as you like, anytime you like..."

Tenya Iida:

Tenya was smart, obviously, but he was still a novice when it came to relationships with his peers and handling interactions. That's why when you began skipping class, he, as class president took it upon himself to hand deliver your homework, along with a stern talking to about attendance. That earned him a door slamming in his face, to nobody's suprise.

Now he knows better. Though it goes against his morals, he cuts you slack, visiting you every day briefly. Papers slide under your door in stacks. Neatly written notes, mock tests, and graded homework, all with nothing less than A's. You haven't done your homework in a week. Among the pages, one day, a letter appears, reading:

"I understand I am still learning how to be a friend, and you are teaching me new ways to be a better one. I appreciate that. I also understand I can't take your woes off your plate, so, even though I find it wrong, I will take on what of your burdens I can. I hope we can talk soon, but until then, take all the time away from school that you need. You will have perfect grades to come back to."

Ochako Uraraka:

'Good morning!' 'Goodnight!' 'How do you feel today?' It seemed like your phone never stopped dinging from how many times a day she texted you. Not only that but she'd check in on you in person multiple times a day as well, especially if you didn't answer any of her texts. She'd bring you breakfast in the mornings and dinner in the evening, catch you up on current events.

Eventually, you wound up letting her stay longer each time, texting her back longer replies. Before you knew it, you were texting/talking for hours. She'd send you a meme and you'd send one back. She'd tell you who liked who in the toher classes and you actually began to care.

You didn't even notice when the worries of your depressive episode began to fade into the background, the excitement of waking up to a good morning text lighting up your day each and every time.

Mashirao Ojiro:

It wasn't clear how it came to this, but here you were, cradled in Mashiroa's lap, tail curled around you securely. "Shhh, it's okay, let it out." he murmured, chin resting atop your head, thumbs stoking your skin with such care as he rocked you back and forth, letting you cry and vent your frustrations.

He hadn't needed to ask, he didn't beg you to talk. He simply knocked on your door and engulfed you in a warm, wordless embrace, the moment you opened it, holding you against him until you stopped resisting. You were rewarded for your surrender with his fingers gently raking through your hair. And then, you ended up like this.

"It's all gonna be okay, I promise." He swore, pressing a kiss to your temple as he felt your breathing calm. You'd cried yourself to sleep in his arms. He was just glad to see your pain fading away, even if momentarily.

Denki Kaminari:

"Why'd you stop answering your phone?" Denki asked, leaning into your doorway. "I've been worried sick."

"It died," you said dismissively. In truth, you doom-scrolled the battery to death.

"Charge it, maybe?" he deadpanned, cocking a brow at you.

"Lost my brick." you answered numbly, moving to shut the door, simply wanting to crawl back into bed, only to have his foot come between it and the frame.

"Bullshit," he called, pushing his way into your room, kicking out of his shoes and crawling into your bed without care in the world. "C'mon," he patted the space beside you, rolling his eyes at your befuddled expression. He swiped your chord off the nightstand, popping it in his mouth. "Bring me your phone." he said, words muffled by the charged between his teeth.

Your shoulders slumped as you came closer, handing it over, watching him plug the chord into it before holding the power button and bringing it back to life. Reluctantly, you crawled under the covers with him. "What are you doing?" you asked as he opened the Youtube app.

"You look like you could use a laugh," he smirked fingers tapping across the keyboard. The search bar read 'kids getting hurt'.

Eijiro Kirishima:

Eijiro sat on the outside of your door, rapping softly against it near the bottom. "Talk to me, please?" He asked, defeated. "I wanna help..." He had been at this for hours, listening to you cry on the other side of the locked door. He finally sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position. "We don't have to talk, if you don't wanna, we could just chill..."

Ten minutes pass and still, your only response to his coaxing are sobs not even meant for him. "I'm not exactly cuddly, but I could give you a hug?" he offered, knowing it was futile. "We could watch a movie, just lay in bed." he swallowed hard, rolling his stiff neck. "Just let me know you're okay..."

Still, he got no answer and part of him began to wonder if he was doing more harm than good. "Want me to just go...?"

"...No..." your soft voice came from the other side- inches away. When had you moved closer? It didn't matter. His fingers slipped under the crack of the door as a sympathetic smile crept across his face, widening when he felt yours graze them.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he reassured kindly. "We don't gotta talk, I'll stay out here all night if I have to. Until you're ready for more than company."

Koji Koda:

Koji had no idea how to help soothe your pain as shy as he was. He could hardly talk to you in person, what could he possibly do? Well, he did have your social media, and he knew your favorite animal...

At exact times, staggered throughout the day, your phone would buzz, always with a message from him saying something like: 'I hope you're doing okay today!" with an attachment of a cute video or picture of your favorite animal. Sometimes they'd come with a little factoid about the animal.

It wasn't much, but he put a good deal of effort into this ritual, always making sure the messages, facts, and media were never the same. Little did he know, his efforts weren't in vain, they meant everything to you.

Rikido Sato:

Rikido had many flaws, but if there was one thing he was an expert at, it was keeping an index of everyone's tastes, and baking. That's why when he noticed you beginning to pull away from your friends, he was quick to jump into action. He wasn't one for confrontation, but acts of service were how he showed he cared.

He knew you favored a certain flavor, and he challenged himself to see how far he could take that knowledge. What all could he do with the extract of one flavor?

You were taken back when you began finding treats waiting for you outside your room every day. Poundcake on Monday, cupcakes on Tuesday, tarts on Wednesday, and so on and so forth. After a week or so, he was beginning to sweat, having scoured the internet and every book on his shelf for new recipes.

On the eighth day, while setting a beautifully wrapped box of cookies at your door, he jumped out of his skin, looking up to find your feet in front of him. "Sato..." you muttered, smiling sadly down at him as he bashfully stood, hulking over you.

"S-Sorry to bug you, just uh..." he explained sheepishly, lifting the package off the floor and handing it over directly. "I-I made you some cookies and..."

"Thank you..." you smiled, holding them to your chest. "You're so sweet." He was delighted to see such a genuine look of joy in your tired eyes. He felt like he'd found you after a long search.

"There you are..." he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Missed you..."

I hope these help lift yall's spirits! There will be more, I promise!

[merwgue]

Why Feyre as High Lady Could Lead to the Night Court's Downfall (Or, How to Ruin a Court in 10 Easy Steps) comming from someone who is planning to study international relations and whos whole family is quite familiar with it:

Look, we all love Feyre. She's fierce, she's brave, and she can paint a mean flower. But let's be real: as High Lady of the Night Court, she's a Fucking diplomatic nightmare. If there were an award for "How to Piss Off Every High Lord and Their Neighboring Courts," she'd win it. Twice. Here's why Feyre's reign might just bring the Night Court crashing down faster than rhys can growl or cum to the image of his child

1. Explosive Temper and Poor Diplomacy Let’s talk about the High Lords meeting in A Court of Wings and Ruin. Remember that? Feyre’s blow-up at Beron wasn’t just a passionate defense—it was a major diplomatic fuck-up. Yes, Beron was being a total asshole, but diplomacy often means biting your tongue and playing the long game. Feyre's outburst could have easily cost them an alliance with the Autumn Court, potentially turning Beron into an outright enemy. With Hybern on the horizon, losing any potential allies could have been catastrophic. Instead of keeping things cool and trying to find common ground, she let her temper flare, risking everything Rhysand had worked for to keep the courts united. Feyre basically threw a damn match onto a pile of political dynamite.

2. Alienating Potential Allies Ah, the Summer Court fiasco. Remember when Feyre decided it was a good idea to steal from Tarquin? Not just any theft, but a "Hey, let's be friends—JK, I’m taking your most powerful magical artifact" kind of theft. Brilliant move. And then she had the nerve to act all shocked when Tarquin was pissed about it. "What do you mean you're mad I stole from you? We're supposed to be allies!" Gee, I wonder why Tarquin wasn’t thrilled about that little betrayal. It's like borrowing your friend's car and returning it on empty, with a dent in the side. And by "borrow," I mean grand theft auto. Feyre, maybe try not to screw over potential allies next time? Just a thought.

3. Emotional Decision-Making Feyre often lets her emotions drive her decisions. While being passionate isn't inherently bad, it becomes a problem when it overrides logic and strategy, especially in the high-stakes world of Prythian politics. The High Lords meeting is one instance, but it happens repeatedly. Her open hostility toward Tamlin, even if understandable on a personal level, didn't help the broader cause. By pushing him further away instead of seeking some form of truce, she risked driving him into Hybern's arms. A High Lady needs to think beyond personal grudges to what’s best for her people and her court, and Feyre struggles with that balance. You can't just say "screw it" and go off on people when the fate of your entire court is on the line.

4. Ignoring the Complexity of the Night Court And let's not forget the Night Court's lovely little secret: Hewn City. You know, that underground hellhole they basically keep under lock and key. Rhysand and Feyre are all "Oh, look at Velaris, it's so pretty and free!" Meanwhile, half their court is rotting in a glorified dungeon. And what's Feyre's big idea for dealing with Hewn City? Oh, right, pretend it doesn't exist. Smart. Because ignoring a potential uprising within your own court is definitely the way to keep things stable. It's like the French Revolution all over again—if the Night Court were France, then Feyre's approach is like Louis XVI ignoring the starving peasants while hosting extravagant parties. Eventually, ignoring the discontent and keeping people oppressed leads to revolution. Treating Hewn City like an inconvenient problem rather than addressing it is a recipe for disaster.

5. Undermining Rhysand’s Diplomacy Rhysand spent centuries mastering diplomacy—playing the long game, keeping everyone in check. And then comes Feyre, storming in like, "Oh, you spent centuries building these delicate alliances? Well, watch me fuck it up in five minutes." She's like that one friend who always says, "Hold my beer," right before doing something incredibly stupid. Rhys is trying to keep the court from crumbling, and Feyre's out there acting like diplomacy means "scream at the enemy until they go away." Newsflash: That’s not how this works. This isn't some street brawl where whoever yells the loudest wins. It's politics. You know, the art of not making enemies out of every living soul around you?

Conclusion Feyre's got the passion, the guts, and the fighting spirit of a warrior. But when it comes to actually leading a court? She’s like a bull in a china shop, if that bull also happened to have a grudge against every piece of porcelain in the room. Being High Lady isn’t about who's right in the heat of the moment; it's about playing the long game, keeping your people safe, and not, you know, burning bridges with every other court. If she keeps going down this path—alienating allies, ignoring the needs of half her own court, and letting emotions drive her decisions—the Night Court is in serious trouble. Feyre needs to understand that diplomacy isn’t about who can throw the best tantrum. It’s about avoiding a revolution and ensuring the stability of your people. Otherwise, the Night Court might fall not because of an external threat, but because its own leader is too busy screwing things up from the inside.

[azsazz]

Lips of an Angel (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the song ‘Lips of an Angel’ by Hinder. Azriel left you for Elain. After finding out that he has a child he didn’t know about, he’s furious.

**Daddy!Az AU**

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,805

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

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The glass in his hand is empty again, the bottle next to it too. 

Azriel sits at his desk, thinking about everything that has led up to this very moment: nursing the wounds he’d amassed from Rhysand as well as the full liquor bottle that he kept hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk in a secret compartment where Elain would never notice.

His left eye is swollen shut and throbbing. Bruises and cuts litter his body from the brawl he’d had with his High Lord in his office only an hour ago, over his ex and the fact that she’d had a child and never told him about.

The High Lord still packs a pretty good punch, he thinks as he shifts to pull open another drawer. His entire body aches with each movement but the alcohol has made it a touch easier. He’s burned through most of the bottle with his anger, but he could’ve sworn he had shoved another bottle in there somewhere.

Elain hasn’t arrived yet and he hopes that she doesn’t. Hopes that she doesn’t walk into his home with her striking smile and eager aura. Right now what he needs is to be alone. Alone with his thoughts, in the dark, silent and nurturing like they were when he was a child and his father trapped him in the dungeons.

The age his child is now. Wren. His chest aches an insurmountable amount when he thinks of the child, so much like him despite having never met. Eyes so strikingly similar to his own that Azriel knows you think about him everytime you look at your son. With tiny wings to match and the most stoic face he’s ever seen on a child, there was no doubting that Wren was his.

But you hadn’t even denied it when he asked, couldn’t, and that made him all the more angry at himself. That he had pushed you so far away from him, had hurt you so badly that you didn’t even tell him he had a child? That you had gone so far as to tell the High Lord and the rest of his family but not him?

“I deserved to know about my child,” he screamed into Rhysands face. The bellow was followed by a blow to his jaw, his bones reverberating beneath his skin from the force of it. It had been a long time since they’d come to blows like this, not training, but actually fighting. Azriel thinks the last time they’d had a real argument that had led to injuring each other like this was when they were still learning in the camps and Cassian and Rhysand had teased him, pushed him to his brink before accepting him into their found family.

“And you could have,” Rhys spits back, the utter fury in his voice shaking the paintings on the walls. The High Lord’s power had unleashed then, slamming Azriel back into the wall. His head crashed into the plaster with a harsh thunk and when he blinked the spots from his vision Rhysand was already pouncing towards him, ringed-fist raised. “We all put it together before you ever made a move on Elain. The signs were right there! Think about it! They were right in front of your fucking face and you didn’t even care.”

“Gods,” Azriel groans. He’s been leaning over his chair for far too long and the broken rib his brother had given him makes it hard to breathe.

But Rhysand had been right, all of the signs were there, he was just too infatuated with finding a mate that he overlooked them.

When you’d started having dizzy spells and he’d passed it off as you not drinking enough water, or when you’d told him you missed your cycle, he remembers that like it was yesterday and curses himself for being so dimwitted. 

All of the times you’d tried to cuddle up to him or kissed him just the way he liked but he still pushed you away because it had felt wrong to kiss you back when Elain was standing right over there. He was so busy chasing after Feyre’s middle sister that he didn’t notice your scent shifting, thinking you were coming down with a sickness that would keep you in bed for a day or two so he could have some time with Elain and didn’t have to worry about you finding out.

It was all right fucking there, and he hadn’t been able to see it.

Even when he’d come home to find you sitting in the guest room one night. The door had been cracked open and you’d been sitting on the edge of the bed looking around the room with a look on your face he hadn’t even cared to decipher, but he remembers it now. It was awe, excitement as you clutched your belly, probably thinking to yourself how exciting it was going to be to decorate a room for the babe growing in your belly. But all Azriel had done was pass it off as you starting to realize the distance he was forcing between the both of you and maybe you had decided to sleep in there that night instead of the room you shared.

There is no denying that he’s fucked up. Fucked up to the point of never finding love again. He realizes in this moment how badly he’s treated you, treated the little boy that dons his face and doesn’t even know him. Wren already thinks that Malik is his father, and with the way that the fae male looks Azriel can’t blame him. While you clearly had a type, your current boyfriend doesn’t seem to be as broody or cruel to you as he’d been.

Azriel sighs, saddened by the lack of alcohol he’s hidden in his desk, and sits in self-pity instead.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Azriel wipes his hands on his pants because truly, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Sitting across the table from you, Malik, and Rhysand was not something he’d ever thought he’d be doing. Let alone being in the same room as you again.

And fuck, you’re as gorgeous as he remembers, even with the guarded way you’re sitting, arms crossed over your chest and your mouth set into a firm line as you stare him down like it’s not fucking burning you up to see him as much as it is for him to see you. 

Rhysand looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. They’ve both healed up due to the nature of their fae healing, but his brother’s glare makes Azriel want to allow the shadows curling around his ankles to shroud him behind their blackness.

And Malik. Malik is here, with his arm around the back of your chair. He’s slid his own closer to yours for comfort, and even the cheerful male he’d seen with his son doesn’t seem so joyful right now. His straight brows are drawn and he keeps glancing over at you in concern. 

Azriel can’t even find it in himself to hate the male. The one who’s taken care of you, of his son all of these years he’d been so oblivious. He wants to hate him with the fires of a thousand autumn fires, but, after the way that he’s treated you, he can’t help but to feel a little bit grateful for the male.

Wren hadn’t joined you, of course not. Feyre had taken him and Nyx down into the Rainbow for an afternoon art class followed by the most ice cream they could even imagine. Normally, you wouldn’t allow Wren so many sweets, but he’s been more than stressed lately with the information of seeing his birth father, and you’ve been trying to help him work through his own feelings on the matter.

Feyre even helped place Wren into an art therapy course with one of her good friends. Everett owns the studio next door and you’ve heard nothing but the best about the therapist. She’s been a light in Wren’s life as of late, and he seems to be responding well to the therapy. So well that he’s mentioned he might be open to meeting Azriel one day.

Today is not that day.

He doesn’t know what to say. His throat is clogged with years worth of emotions. Azriel prides himself on his cool, calm exterior, but right now, there’s none of that front on display. His palms are slick with sweat, leg jerking up and down to try and dispel some of the anxiety wracking his body. It’s no use at all.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he starts, and it’s more than a little awkward. He watches you and Rhysand share a glance and deflates in his chair. He’s more than a fucking prick.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you start, and he’s never heard your voice so cold. “I’m doing this for Wren.”

Azriel looks up at the sound of his son’s voice. There’s a hopeful note in his golden eyes that you don’t want to diminish, even if there’s still a sting as you’re reminded when his eyes had lit up like that at the sight of you. Your hands fall from where they’re crossed across your chest as the dread settles in, and you can’t seem to fight the tingling of your sinuses. You don’t love him anymore, but seeing him so often after years spent apart brings the feelings of everything he had done right back. 

Sensing your shifting emotions, Malik drops his hand from the back of your chair to your lap, threading his fingers through yours. Azriel’s shadows relay the way that you cling to his hand tightly, and he shifts in his seat.

He watches the way that your eyes go glossy, unfocusing from his and he knows that Rhysand is speaking to you, mind-to-mind. Azriel is sure that his brother is doing his best to reassure you, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. It should have been him reassuring you. It should have been him by your side all of this time.

Just the thought of Elain pains him. Everything that he has fucking done to you because he thought that he wanted her plays over and over and over again in his head. He will never forgive himself for any of this, but the road to making things up to you, up to his son, starts now.

Rhysand takes the reins of the conversation, and Azriel doesn’t like the way that he’s looking at him like any one of his courtiers, hands folded together as they sit on the table. 

He’s even wearing his crown.

“Wren has decided that he wants to meet you. Properly, this time.”

The floor falls out from under Azriel’s chair.

[praisethegabs]

B.D.S.M

Leon Kennedy x F!Mistress!Reader

synopsis: leon has a guilty pleasure, which is a deep secret no one knows. every time after a stressful mission, leon goes to this particular place to release his tension. you're too familiar with the man, already knowing what he loves. he's your favorite customer. you're his favorite mistress.

warnings: PURE SMUT. bdsm on its edge. degradation kink, praise kink, shibari, use of pet names, sex toys, sub!leon and dom!reader, handjob, edging, spanking, gaging, spanking, flogging, role-playing.

word count: 3735k

a/n: sub!leon always comes to my mind for unknown reasons. he's so fucking cute and awkward. sometimes, I don't see him as the dominant one, I think he's more of a switch. anyway, I wrote this bc I thought it would be funny to change sides (since the last smut I wrote was with dom!leon)

Leon's footsteps echoed through the corridor as he made his way back home. His mind was still reeling from the stress of the mission he had just completed. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he yearned for a way to escape the constant tension that plagued him.

It was almost three in the morning, but he didn't care. Due to the nature of his job, Leon had a highly irregular schedule. His timing was inconsistent, and he did not have a set time to return home. It could be morning, afternoon, evening, or the middle of the night. Although his busy schedule demanded most of his time, Leon still had something that couldn't be postponed.

As he entered his apartment, he casually threw his leather jacket onto a chair and ran his hand through his tousled hair. The peaceful solitude of his home only intensified the profound loneliness that had settled deep within him. He needed a release, a way to forget the horrors he had witnessed. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and dialed a number that he had carefully stored in his contacts. The screen lit up, and he waited for it to ring. He felt a mixture of anticipation and relief when the call was answered.

"Hello," a sultry voice purred on the other end of the line. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Leon's voice was filled with a mixture of longing and vulnerability as he replied, "I need to see you, Mistress."

A wicked smile played on your lips as you spoke on the other end of the line. "Of course, darling. I have just the thing to help you forget about your troubles. How soon can you come to my dungeon?"

Leon quickly checked his schedule. "I can be there in an hour," he replied.

"Perfect," you purred. "Prepare yourself and don't keep me waiting. We have much to explore, and I promise you that by the time we're done, all your worries will be left far behind."

As the call ended, Leon felt a renewed sense of anticipation and excitement. Your dungeon provides a sanctuary from the outside world, a place where he can relinquish control and seek solace in the pain and pleasure you provide. It was his escape, a way to let go of the burden he carried, if only for a few precious hours.

As Leon sipped a glass of wine, he gazed out of the window, his thoughts in turmoil. His work demanded discipline, control, and unwavering focus. Yet, it was in the realm of submission and surrender that he found the release he craved - an escape from the relentless pressure of his responsibilities.

Leon had always been a man of contradictions, and his desire for you was no exception. He wondered if his fascination with you was a reflection of his own internal struggles, a means to delve into the depths of his own desires and vulnerabilities. Guilt gnawed at him as he thought about the secrets he kept and the double life he led.

But as he replayed the memories of their encounters in his mind, he couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of your power and the blissful release it provided. It was a guilty pleasure he couldn't resist, a secret aspect of his life that provided him with a sense of liberation he couldn't find anywhere else.

You knew absolutely nothing about Leon, except for his preferences.

He always liked the rough style. As a skilled dominatrix, you know how to please a man. Since he discovered you, he has requested to become your exclusive client, and the payment he has provided is sufficient to reserve your availability exclusively for him. Fortunately, you were familiar with his schedule, so you began working mostly at night, which suited him perfectly.

You have set up an entire dungeon in your basement. It was the perfect place to meet his needs exactly as he wanted it.

At first, seeing his physique made you think he would be a great dominant. However, you eventually found out that he was more of a submissive man. Completely bent over your knees, ready to obey your commands without hesitation. Most dungeons do not permit sexual intercourse between dominants and submissives, but for him, this dynamic does not adhere to such restrictions. Since you have a dungeon in your own home, you have decided to make some slight modifications to the rules.

Obviously, you have never had sex with him, but other aspects of your relationship work just fine.

Leon's footsteps echoed through the garden as he made his way towards the entrance of his hidden sanctuary. Each step was a solemn reminder of the mission that had just been concluded. The scent of leather and candle wax hung in the air, familiar and comforting. He pushed open the unassuming door at the end of the hallway, revealing a hidden secret world beyond.

The dungeon served as a sanctuary for him, a place where he could escape the burdens of his perilous existence. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, and there you were, dressed in black leather, waiting for him in the center of the room. Your presence commands attention; your aura is a captivating blend of power and sensuality.

"Welcome back, Kennedy," you purred, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. "You're not late; you arrived just in time."

Leon's tense shoulders relaxed as he stepped further into the dungeon, the door clicking shut behind him. He locked eyes with you, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. He shed his jacket, the leather creaking as he tossed it aside, revealing the tension that had built up in his muscles during the mission.

You moved towards him, the sound of your heels clicking against the cold stone floor, with a devious glint in your eyes. "You look like you've had a rough day, my dear," you said, as your fingers lightly traced the contours of his jaw. "But, you know, I'm here to take care of you."

"Yes, Mistress," he nodded, closing his eyes to savor your touch and emitting a slight moan.

"Strip now," you ordered him, and stepped back to prepare the rest of the room and your toys.

The words were both a promise and a command, and Leon nodded in agreement. He needed this - the sensation of control slipping away from his grasp, the catharsis of pain and pleasure intertwined. You led him to the St. Andrew's Cross, a symbol of his shared desire for submission and domination.

With practiced ease, you secured his wrists and ankles to the cross, using leather restraints to keep him in place. Leon's heart raced, his mind focused solely on the anticipation of what would come next. The room seemed to shrink, closing in around him, leaving only the two of them and the palpable tension in the air.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his earlobe. "What would you like today, darling?" You whispered, asking your question.

"Take me to the edge, Mistress," Leon said, gazing at you with unwavering confidence.

"Very well," you nodded in agreement. "Remember the safe word, just in case."

Leon nodded once more and prepared himself for what was about to begin. He was waiting for the first strike to experience pleasure, but nothing happened. His eyes met yours, and he felt a shiver down his spine when he noticed the smile on your face.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" You approached him seductively, holding a flogger in your hands, your nails digging into his flesh.

"I forgot my collar, Mistress," he said, his breath heavy with the sudden realization that he had forgotten the only item he was permitted to wear. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Oh, bunny, you know we don't accept apologies," you said, biting his earlobe. "And do you know what this means?"

Leon nodded, biting his lip. He felt the first whip strike him hard, causing him to emit a loud moan. He tightly grips the leather restraints on his wrists, and the second blow leaves a red mark on his stomach. The third strike narrowly missed his cock and you can see him trembling as each blow compels him to seek relief from the agony of your flogging.

"Please, Mistress, forgive me," Leon begs, as you continue to flog him. Another strike, another groan.

"Have you learned your lesson, bunny?" You asked, delivering another whip to him, striking harder.

“Yes, Mistress. I did” Leon almost yelled, trying helplessly to avoid your strikes. His body was already red from the flogging. "Please, I won't forget it anymore."

You stopped, letting the flog aside. You took a leather collar from the drawer and placed it around his neck. His breath was heavy, and his entire body was shaking. He was indeed enjoying the anticipation of the punishment, although he had no idea what was about to happen. You untied him from the St. Andrews Cross, and he stood there, waiting for your next command.

"Stand in the center of the room," you commanded, holding a remote. He nods, walking with his naked, red body to the center of the dungeon.

You threw a silver spreader bar in his direction, and you didn't have to say it twice. Leon secured his ankles in the spreader bar, and once he was done, he glanced at you again. Silently, you pressed the button and then shackled his wrists to a drop-down ceiling bar. Pressing the button again, he stretched his arms in the air. The bondage dungeon is filled with furniture that enables you to attach him to any object in whichever manner you please.

Now he stands completely naked, with his ankles spread apart by a spreader bar and his arms stretched in the air, wearing nothing but his collar.

You stand before him, wearing a devilish smile on your lips. Suddenly, you firmly grasp his erect penis and apply pressure. You can see tears welling up in his sapphire-blue eyes as he bites his lip and tightly grips the shackles above his head. You squeeze it harder, and he gasps, yelping in pain. You paused for a moment, observing him. Another intense squeeze, another wave of pain, and he screams out loud. You finally release his cock and he exhales with relief, tears still streaming down his cheek.

"You're nothing but a sex toy. Look at you, so miserable," you said, as you walked around him and slapped his ass. "Such a naughty boy, desperate to be humiliated, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," his voice trembles as you slap his ass.

"Your purpose is to provide fuckings, am I right?" You asked again, delivering another slap to him, causing his body to jerk.

"Yes, Mistress," Leon nods again, his body jerking with each slap against his sensitive skin.

"Who owns you, fuckboy?" You stepped closer, gripping his hair firmly, causing him to emit a soft groan.

"You do, Mistress," he quickly replies, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly up and down.

"Do I own your cock as well?" You asked again, leaving love bites on his skin.

"Yes, Mistress, you do."

You take his cock again, smacking it harder and making him yelp again. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks once more. You walk to your box of instruments and retrieve the manuscript clips. You take one clamp, gently open it, and place it over his left nipple. Carefully close the clamp, ensuring that it does not cause any pain. He tries to hold his breath and keep his mouth shut while you repeat the same process on his right nipple.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll bear it all night," you wink at him, and he nods silently.

Then, your hand reached his cock again and you started to masturbate him. You can see his hands tightly gripping the shackles, and his breath growing heavier with each passing second. Leon began moaning, with each moan growing louder as you continued to stimulate him with your hands. And you keep masturbating him until you know he's close.

And then, you come to a complete stop, causing him to whine out loud.

"Bad boys don't get rewarded," you said, and pressed the button to lower the ceiling bar. "Kneel."

He obeys by kneeling down. The ceiling is high enough for him to stretch his arms in the air, and you are sitting directly in front of him. You don't have to say anything; he already knows what to do. Leon crawls between your legs and opens his mouth. He bends forward, his arms stretching upward before him. The restraints are not sufficient to allow him to approach you, and observing him beg for your pussy amuses you.

"Please, Mistress, allow me to pleasure you in my mouth” he begs, his voice filled with desperation as he fights back tears, inching closer to you.

His cock twitches and aches. He's desperate to be released, to ejaculate all over his body, longing to feel your touch. You keep teasing him by not allowing him to get closer to you, making him see your wide pussy open in front of him, yet denying him the ability to touch or engage with you.

"Please, I'm begging, Mistress," he pleads again, desperately trying to reach you.

"Such a pathetic, whining boy," you said, tightly gripping his jaw in your hands.

You released his wrists and ankles, instructing him to walk towards the bondage horse. He silently obeys you and walks straight to the corner of the room. With red ropes, you tied his arms and hands behind his back. Its shape is that of a half barrel with wide ledges and wings, covered in black leather. Leon positions his knees on each wing, and you proceed to shackle him once more, ensuring that he is securely locked on the edge of the frame. His collar is attached by chains on both sides to the ceiling bar, keeping his head up and facing forward.

"What do you deserve?" you ask, as you walk around the room and pick up your flogger once more.

"To be punished, Mistress," he responds, his eyes locked on the wall in front of him.

"Why?" you asked before striking him hard.

"Because I am a bad man," Leon says, his body jerking again with the whimpering.

You smiled, satisfied, and started to whip him until his entire back was red. When you're done with his back, you move to face him, squeezing his cock again. Leon is on the verge of tears, gasping and unable to control himself. In an instant, without your command, he ejaculates onto your hand. His entire face turns red.

"Did I say you could cum?" you asked him, squeezing his sensitive cock, causing him to whine in pain once more.

"No, Mistress. I'm sorry," he begs, tears falling down his face once more.

"Privilege revoked," you hissed, walking towards your torment box. Leon is visually impaired, but he sheds tears when he senses something cold around his cock. He knows what it is. "You'll come only when I say so."

You walk back to the corner of the room after locking the chastity cage on him. When you return, Leon flinches slightly as he feels your thumb pressing against him from behind. You uses oil and you're smearing it around his anus. A finger slips, then your thumb. Another finger, he already knows what's coming.

He feels the rubber sliding inside, and he moans again. He feels the initial pain, but he's okay with it. You slide it further, allowing the oil to lubricate him internally. You pull back the toy and gently begin a rhythmic back-and-forth fucking of his ass. You have precision and an obvious regular rhythm. Leon moans, closing his eyes and feeling the helplessness of his submission. You insert the toy into him, and he can hear you pressing a button.

It starts to vibrate inside his hole.

To keep him quiet, you place a ball gag in his mouth and leave him in his current state. He is tormented by a dildo in his anus, restrained by shackles and ropes, rendering him unable to move, resist, or voice any complaints. You sit, playing with the remote control of the device in your hands, adjusting the intensity to elicit either loud moans or soft whines from him.

The cock cage on him is painful, and he is aware of it. With his already aroused state, it becomes nearly impossible for him to cum without your consent, and he is aware that this is precisely what you desire. He is unable to move, but the vibration in his ass makes his flesh to ripple. It makes him shake his body. Leon moans again, whether from the pain caused by the cage or the vibration inside his ass. He shakes his head, the only movement he can make.

You press the button, and he sighs with relief, but not completely. You pump him again a few times and stop. You thrust into him quickly and forcefully, causing him to groan and moan. After some time, there is a final push, a powerful thrust that is enough to rock the bondage horse. He moans aloud again. You walk around the corner again and gently push something metallic, cold, and smooth inside his ass. Leon feels the object and thinks it's large, expanding inside him. Then, it pops in, causing a painful stretch that makes him scream again.

"Clean it," you tell him, pointing to his white semen on the leather bondage material. You unshackle his collar from the ceiling bar and his ankles from the restraints, but keep his arms tied with the ropes.

He obediently leans over from his waist until his tongue reaches the black leather. He licks it in wide swaths, gathering all his juices from his previous unauthorized release, leaving only his saliva behind.

You can see the color of his cock. He's so hard and sensitive. When Leon finishes cleaning the bondage horse, he kneels in front of you, waiting patiently. He is clearly struggling to hold back his orgasm, but at the same time, he is on the brink of climax.

"Desperate to cum, huh?” you teased, gently stimulating his sensitive nipples, eliciting another groan from him.

"Yes, Mistress," he says, his voice shaking once more.

You sat in an armchair in front of him, your legs spread apart, offering a tantalizing view of your glistening arousal. He doesn't move, but when he sees you nod, he knows what to do. He leans closer, and you can feel his tongue on your wet, sensitive, and swollen clit. He sucks you, savoring your taste, and moaning from the pleasure mixed with the slight pain he feels on his cock. You moan and grip his hair tightly, urging him to continue sucking you.

And when you reach your orgasm, Leon has to force himself to calm down, feeling your cunt on his face. His cock is hurting and you decide to please him in the appropriate manner.

“Color” you ask him, playfully tweaking his nipple.

"Green, Mistress," he says, trembling. He's lying.

"What color is it, bunny?" you asked him again, gripping the metal of his collar.

"Yellow, Mistress," Leon shakes. The pain in his cock is excruciating.

You released his cock from the cage, and he sighed with relief, only to gasp at your touch. He was very sensitive, and you started to masturbate him again. You took your magic wand and placed it under his dick, vibrating with intense power, while your other hand moved up and down on him. Leon can't last long. He's already too close to reaching orgasm. You, on the other hand, don't care. You continue to deliberate, his rhythm becoming tense.

"Go on, be a good boy and cum for your Mistress," you said, increasing your pace on him.

The words are enough. It emanates from his core and bursts out. His thighs and red belly shuddered first, as if he were being electrocuted. Then, it surged upward, causing his entire chest to shake as he let out a guttural moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure. Afterward, you removed the clips from his nipples, and he yelped and cried again. You also removed the plug from his anus, leaving it elsewhere.

Now, you have him standing at the end of the bondage horse again, and you instruct him to bend over and protrude his ass out. You tied him with the red ropes in a different manner, and he obeys you. This time, you take a flogger to his ass, almost caressing his cheeks with its sleek leather strands. Then, it comes out of nowhere.

The brutal spank of the cane striking his ass. He screams.

You cane him again, this time on his right ass cheek. He screams again and sobs. The third strike goes again. Leon yells.

You guide him to a nearby mirror and compel him to observe the three red marks on his ass.

He's crying. You had successfully led him to his edge, but you knew when to stop. You removed the gag from his mouth and untied the ropes that had left his arms almost purple. Then, you placed a robe on him. Aftercare is important, even in this type of situation.

"Are you okay?" you asked, leading him to the sofa in the opposite corner. "I know you wanted to be on the edge, but this is dangerous. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Leon says softly, although his entire body is in pain. "Just... don't worry, okay? I like it when you get rough with me."

"I'm not complaining, but are you sure you're okay?" you asked, embracing him and allowing his head to rest on your chest.

"I'm fine, trust me," he chuckles.

There is a moment of silence. Usually, he doesn't stay for aftercare. He gets what he wants and then leaves, but there's something different this time. You don't say anything, you decide to give him some space. This night was heavily different from the others, and you're not sure he's really alright.

“Can we do it again?” He lifts his head so he can see you. “But this time, can you blindfold me?”

You smirk. It's time for another round. 

[addsalwayssick]

@rosekillermicrofic || prompt: secret || word count: 778

Something was wrong with Barty Crouch Jr. He liked a boy. All his life he’s liked girls. Now, in 6th year, as a 15 year old boy, he likes a boy. Evan Rosier.

He and Evan were two peas in a pod, as many would say. They were two in a group of five. As Barty lay in his bed at night, crying about liking him, he had a realization. Through deep breaths and barely clarifying thoughts, he figured that maybe he liked Pandora.

Pandora Rosier. Evan’s twin sister. Gorgeous, smart, and fun. Why wouldn’t he like her? Better yet, she looks like Evan.

So Barty asked her out. “Hey Panda?” He asked, catching up with her in the hallway. “What class have you got?”

“Oh hello Barty,” Pandora smiled. “I have transfigurations next. Walk with me?”

“Yeah sure,” Barty said, walking by her. “I wanted to ask you something.” He started.

Pandora looked at him. “Yes?”

“Would you want to go out with me?” Barty asked, looking intensely into her blue eyes.

Pandora flung her long blonde hair out of her face as she thought. “Sure, why not?” She said.

And so they dated. But Barty couldn’t get past the aching feeling of emptiness in him. There was a pit in his stomach every time he looked at Evan, every time he thought of Evan, every time he breathed near Evan. It was miserable.

And if that wasn’t enough, Evan was growing distant with him. Anything Barty asked to hang out, Evan would blow him off, saying he’s got something to do.

Barty would sit in his dorm room at night, knees to his chest, tears in his eyes. What was wrong with him? Boys weren’t supposed to like boys. Something was wrong with him.

Pandora knocked on Barty’s door one evening as he was studying. The rest of his roommates gone at the Ravenclaw party he had blown off to study.

“Barty?” Pandora called through the door.

Barty didn’t look up. “Come in,” He yelled absentmindedly.

“Barty can I speak with you?” She said softly, sitting politely on his bed.

Barty turned and nodded. “Yeah, everything okay?”

Pandora sighed. “Barty you know I love you,” She started. Barty tried to speak, but Pandora cut him off. “But not like that. And you don’t love me like that either.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Barty grumbled.

Pandora smiled slightly. “You like Evan, don’t you?”

Barty’s face hardened. “Don’t say shit like that.”

Pandora cocked her head to the side. “Barty, you’re defensive because you know it’s true.”

“Men can’t date men, Pandora.” Barty hissed.

“Sure they can.”

“No the fuck they can’t. I’m not- i’m not like that,” Barty hastily spit out.

Pandora patted his knee. “Barty, you know what i’m saying is true. Please just think about it,” And she left.

Barty did think about it. He thought about it hard. He raced out of his dorm room, down to the dungeons, and into Evan’s dorms.

“Barty? What the fuck?” Evan sat up from where he was resting on his bed.

“Ev,” He huffed, out of breath.

“Mate, what are you doing here?” Evan sighed. “It’s late,”

Barty was shaking as he said, “Can we talk?”

Evan furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I like you.”

“What the ever loving fuck are you talking about?” Evan scoffed. “Don’t fuck around like that Barty. My sister loves you. You love her.”

Barty shook his head, “Not like that. Not like I love you, Ev.”

Evan laughed without humor. “I’d hope not. Considering you’re dating her and not me.”

“Jesus fuck,” Barty hissed before storming over to Evan. Barty grabbed his face and smashed his lips onto Evans.

Evan pushed him off. “What the hell, Barty. You’re dating my sister,”

“No i’m not!” Barty exclaimed. “We broke it off because i’m in love with you! Please don’t make this harder for me,”

“Harder for you? How is this hard for you?” Evan hissed.

“God just- just fucking kiss me!” Barty huffed.

Evan hesitated before taking his shirt and bringing Barty closer. “If I found out you’re lying, I will fucking have your head on a platter,” Evan said through his teeth before kissing him.

Evan hadn’t believed this was happening. The man he has been in love with since second year is dating his twin sister. His life sucks, man.

He would watch their dates, and watch Barty grin at him, wanting to throw up.

He would watch Barty bring Pandora flowers, wishing it was him. It was no secret that he was in love with Barty.

And now Barty was in his arms, and he couldn’t be happier.

[jimblejamblewritings]

starlight moonlight sunlight blurb series

Remus has a choice to make: his new boyfriend Sirius or his recently no longer ex girlfriend, Y/N. But when Y/N's world begins crumbling, Remus wants to be there for her. So he makes a decision... Continue dating his boyfriend behind his girlfriend's back.

(all blurbs are at most 1.5k words)

Reconnecting on the Train (reader meets remus for the first time in a long time)

Party in the Dungeons (remus discovers reader's biggest secret)

Bakeries and School Musicals and Book Clubs (remus keeps trying to run away from reader and run towards sirius)

Warm Jumpers by the Fireplace (remus realizes he needs to act the part)

Nymphs are Great at Karaoke (remus is a better boyfriend and sirius tries to play nice)

Holiday Spirit (the marauders + reader start a band)

Happy Fucking Holidays (reader finally catches their boyfriend)

Friendship Breakups and Shitty New Beginnings (reader copes with being alone)

Old Friends (reader reconnects with some very important people)

To Be Ignored... And Summer Hopefulness (reader's friends keep their head on their shoulders and a promise pays off... somewhat)

Two Steps Forward (a long awaited conversation is finally had)

[svsssbrainworms]

🍃 SVSSS fic rec list

(shen yuan / bingqiu -centric edition) 3/3

[ au / a/b/o; bingqiu shameless fluff and smut ]

au / a/b/o 🌹

• I Wish You Were My Husband

Wherein Shen Yuan transmigrates into a harem intrigues romance novel (gay edition), Yue Qingyuan really fucks up, Liu Qingge is not suitable for his job, and no one even remotely sees Luo Binghe coming.

• Honored Eternal Path of Demise 

It's bad enough when Shen Yuan dies. It's even worse when he transmigrates into the worst horror game inspired by Proud Immortal Demon Way that could ever be imagined. But nothing is more terrible than transmigrating as the scum villain Shen Qingqiu, the character with the most violent and grotesque deaths the game has to offer! Couldn't he have transmigrated into the stallion novel instead? At least there his character would only have to die once! Now Shen Yuan has to navigate his new life as Shen Qingqiu while trying to keep not only himself alive, but also a cast of characters, each more suicidal than the next. A goal he is going to fail. A lot. Many times. Too many times! At least he can spend some time with his favorite character Luo Binghe while stuck in this mess.

• The First Law of Alchemy

Shen Yuan is jolted awake and finds himself worlds away from his comfy modern bed. Instead, he's in the middle of a summoning circle, but nobody seems happy to see him! Least of all the fearsome Emperor who takes one look, judges him as defective, and promptly throws him into the dungeons like trash. Excuse him if he’s not up to standard! It’s not like Shen Yuan asked to be delivered here! Where is he, anyway? This must be one long, shitty dream his sleep-deprived brain cooked up, right??? OR: That one BingYuan fic where nobody wants BingYuan to get together XD

🌹 • Better Lock It in Your Pocket

Shizun has a secret. When Luo Binghe figures it out, his true purpose in life becomes clear. Now, he just needs to make Shen Qingqiu accept him as human again so he can perform it.

🌹 • Moon Thistle Madness

After the events at Maigu Ridge (where dual cultivation didn't happen and they sorted that out another way); Shen Qingqiu has come to know a type of peace he hasn't felt since Binghe was a little student running around his path. Luo Binghe is currently in his care, restricted to the bamboo house to repent for his wrong doings against Cang Qiong Peak, and looks after him just as before. As if nothing happened and he was still his perfect little alpha lotus student. And then the system kicks back in with a new update. It's taking forever to load and it's driving Shen Qingqiu crazy! What the heck is it?! -- Or the one where Shen Qingqiu gets a rude awakening after a beta-only mission and goes feral!

bingqiu shameless fluff 🪷 and smut

🪷 • Wine-Flushed (Your Rosy Face Is Rosier Still) 

“This is all really mine,” Shizun is loudly whispering into his curls. He presses a kiss to the crown of Luo Binghe’s head, then places a few more as if dissatisfied with just the one. Then he pulls Luo Binge’s head away from his bosom without warning, holding him at arms’ length. Binghe feels his gut tighten with instant reaction when he meets Shizun’s half-lidded, liquor-sweet stare. Or: Luo Binghe puts his drunken husband to bed, but it’s BingMei, so there’s lots of feelings and some tears.

🪷 • sweet thing, just call me yours

Post canon, Shen Qingqiu suddenly has a thought: if they're married, and Luo Binghe calls him 'husband' - that has to mean that Luo Binghe is the 'wife,' right?! Luo Binghe is thrilled to hear this conclusion, but still tries to work with his husband's thin face.

• The Shizun Motivational Rewards Programme

Whereby Luo Binghe just wants some attention, and Shen Qingqiu is weak for his little white lotus.

• a thousand jars

The first time Shen Qingqiu feels it, he thinks he’s experiencing some sort of minor qi deviation. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe asks quietly. “Are you okay?” “Am I not allowed to look at my husband?” Shen Qingqiu asks, doing his best not to get snippy. After all he’s a Peak Lord, a powerful cultivator, a man that has cheated death. There’s no reason for him to act like a needy spouse. “My lord,” the servant leans down again with their voice practically purring as they refill a cup that’s only a quarter empty. It catches Luo Binghe’s attention, interrupting the beaming look he had been about to shoot towards Shen Qingqiu. Despite the fact that Luo Binghe looks more bemused than entranced, Shen Qingqiu feels the porcelain cup in his own hand crack.

• look at me

Luo Binghe is jealous of the attention Shen Qingqiu's showing other demons. In Shen Qingqiu's defence, they look really fucking cool. “We cannot leave our guests,” Shen Qingqiu starts. Quicker than he can comprehend it, Shen Qingqiu is flipped around, and immediately pressed against the wall once more. Normally, Shen Qingqiu finds Luo Binghe’s jealousy cute, but this time it punches the breath out of his lungs. Luo Binghe looks down at Shen Qingqiu, thick lashes lending to the lethal look in his eyes. “Of course,” Luo Binghe murmurs, reaching forward and running a knuckle alongside Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. Shen Qingqiu is so used to Luo Binghe’s extortionate expressions that when he turns something smoother, darker towards Shen Qingqiu, he’s at a loss for words. “We would not want to displease them.” “Now hold on—”

• Mommy? Sorry, Mommy?

Luo Binghe accidentally calls Shen Qingqiu A'Niang in bed. Shen Qingqiu goes along with it. No one does too much thinking about why that happened.

• Shen Qingqiu, Resident Milkman

In which I explore Shen Qingqiu lactating. The first chapter/series up involves Bingge going back to his past body, with a Shen Yuan who transmigrated much earlier. Bingge is now Shen Yuan's disciple, lactation ensues.

• The Mirror is the Window to the Soul

Ranking high among suspicious objects in the world of PIDW (below only the general flora) was the mirror. So when Binghe shows up with one, Shen Qingqiu shouldn't be all that surprised that he ended up looking... not quite like himself. Or more accurately, not like his current self. What was more surprising though, was that Binghe didn't look quite the same as his normal self either.

• Hold Me Down, Lift Me Up 

After five years of marriage, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu are getting better at communicating their desires. Still, Luo Binghe is taken by surprise when a visit to the dream realm reveals Shen Qingqiu’s interest in a less gentle form of intimacy. Determined to indulge his husband’s fantasy, Luo Binghe devises a roleplaying scene for them in the waking world. But as their game begins to stir up some of Luo Binghe's long-buried insecurities… can they both manage to stay in character?

[petriwriting]

Jealous. - Theodore Nott X Reader

A/N: I haven't written here yet I don't think, but yeah. Didn't proofread and it's aggressively unedited, but in honor of Halloween and just October in general I've been rewatching Harry Potter.... so. kinda of based on a personal experience but not really lol.

Summary: Theo and Y/N are best friends, dating other people to make each other jealous. -*cheating, angst, fluff, hurt and comfort. partying, Slytherins being devious as usual. I'd like to imagine Y/N and Theo dated and broke up prior but use your imagination. Italian!Theo, obvi Lorenzo Zurzolo.

Theo was sat at the Slytherin table, with his new girlfriend. Y/N was seated in direct sight of him, at the Gryffindor table. Seated next to Cormac McLaggen, a tall handsome Gryffindor with his arm slung around y/n's shoulder. He watched as y/n would smile, fake a laugh, and flirt with the blonde boy. Theo wouldn't dare admit to his jealousy though, he wondered if y/n was even still his best friend, they'd grown so distant in the past few months, and they barely spoke aside from their classes together. It wasn't until his girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass asked him a question that he was pulled out of his jealous haze. "T, can we talk later?" she turned her eyes towards Theodore, who was a bit surprised. "of course. Is everything alright?" he asked, he felt as though he was operating on autopilot, He wanted to be a good boyfriend because the poor girl deserved someone who treated her right, but it didn't feel right, his heart wasn't in it and his attention was elsewhere making him feel a bit guilty. Astoria was a sweet girl, younger than Theo, but she already had an excellent reputation around school. she was smart, kind, and thoughtful. all the things that would make a great girlfriend, but Theodore knew deep down he was being facetious. there was a short pause, and Astoria's smile faded quickly, "I'd just like to talk with you about something." she said softly, somewhat disappointed. Theo nodded. The couple continued their meal, Theo being a bit more quiet than usual.

Y/n sat with the Gryffindors almost every day because of Cormac, a sometimes arrogant and always rowdy bunch. Cormac had asked y/n out a few months ago, and things had been steady. But Cormac was becoming very distant and wasn't as talkative and open. Y/n was onto him, hoping to catch him in a lie or a secret somehow although they both spoke about how happy they were. It wasn't until later in the evening, when Cormac said he'd walk y/n to the dorms from an evening meeting. But he wasn't there, this had been happening recently. Cormac would say he's in one place while being in another. Y/n heard it from friends and gossip around the school. So on this particular evening, it was incredibly frustrating. Y/n had to catch one of Cormac's quidditch teammates in the hall to ask where he could be. "He said he was with you, actually." his teammate said. "sorry." Y/n just smiled. disappointing. "it's not your fault. but thanks."

With a huge sigh, y/n decided to just head back to their cozy room to relax for the evening but to clear their head, y/n took the long way home, wandering around the winding corridors around campus. It was a peaceful walk, quiet and unbothered until y/n heard some voices in a small hallway nearing the Slytherin dungeon. hushed, secretive, quiet. Y/n heard the distinct sound of a muffled giggle, and someone whispering sweet nothings through a smile. Not wanting to be nosy, y/n considered turning back so as to not disturb them, immediately hiding in an adjacent corridor. but then, it was even more distinct. Cormac fucking McLaggen. "you know I really like you." he said, "We shouldn't be doing this... what about your girlfriend?" the girl smiled again, you could hear it in her voice. Y/N's heart sank. "Don't worry about her, I only care about you right now." Y/n, with tears in her eyes revealed themself. Cormac immediately pulled his arms away from the girl. It was a petite brunette girl in Cormac's Gryffindor sweater, y/n could tell because it was huge on the girl. The girl gasped, embarrassed. Cormac turned to y/n, "What are you doing here!" he stammered. Y/n had tears streaming down their face. "you were supposed to walk me home. you were supposed to be with me!" Y/n raised their voice in an emotional moment like this, all y/n wanted to do was lie down and cry. "Listen, it's not what it looks like... I- just," Cormac sighed running his hands through his hair. "we were just talking about an assignment, and-" He was cut off by y/n "Don't lie to me. You are so superficial. I can't stand you," The girl awkwardly started to walk away, not wanting to be involved in the situation at all, y/n didn't even know who she was, and couldn't exactly place her name. She was scarily familiar. Cormac was speechless, caught in the act. "Just leave me alone!" Y/n shouted, running off in tears, barely able to breathe. Cormac didn't bother to go after her. She was pacing forward quickly to get back to their room before anyone saw her like that, a total mess with tears streaming down her face, too upset to even think straight.

Thud! . . .

Y/N had run right into none other than Theodore Nott. Y/n looked up, their face was red, flushed and the tears stained their cheeks. without a word Theo embraced y/n tightly in comfort. "hey, Caro, it's okay." it was sentimental, comforting, and it felt safe. Y/n pulled back after a moment, catching their breath. "What happened?" Theo asked, there was a genuine worry in his tone. "I just caught Cormac in the hall with some girl." y/n sighed, breath shaking. "Y/n, I'm so sorry," Theo turned his head, he was sympathetic. but with how distant he had been y/n wasn't in the mood for romance like that anymore. "what are you doing here anyway," Y/n said, rubbing the tears from their tired eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?". Theo shrugged. "she broke up with me." Y/N's expression hardened. "I'm sorry," y/n uttered quietly. "She said she was falling in love with someone else," Theo explained, attempting to turn the focus on his own issues for y/n's benefit to make them feel better about their own awful situation. "Astoria was right though, we just weren't right for each other." Y/n folded their arms in the chilly hall. It made sense Theo was wandering these halls, he was a Slytherin after all and he would often sneak around those halls to smoke cigarettes. "I'm not too upset over it, honestly. I'd been thinking about breaking up with her." Theo admitted. "why?" y/n asked, talking to Theo always made y/n feel better after a rough day. "I just don't love her the way I should, and honestly I've been thinking about someone else. She used a suffocating amount of hair products anyway," Theo chuckled, delighted to see y/n crack a small chuckle. "I'm not too down," he said. "I'm really sorry to hear that, teddy." y/n said. teddy was a nickname y/n had for him since they were first years, and no one else would dare call him that. "It's alright." y/n looked down. "So who is this someone else you're into these days?" Y/n offered, trying to continue the conversation. "well, it doesn't matter." Theo said quickly. "Shall I walk you back to your room?" he offered.

Theo walked y/n home that night, rather than their now ex-boyfriend. y/n was heartbroken, but their feelings for Theo weren't well hidden. y/n was a bit hurt hearing that Theo was supposedly in love with someone else, but it would take some time to heal, and it would certainly be one day at a time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------*I usually don't write part 2 for my writing but maybe if this is well received I'll pick up and start writing again, I've really enjoyed it. Let me know! :) hope you guys liked it.

[user500269]

Hi there, love your work!

Can I ask for something with Chilchuck x reader where the reader decided to share their secret good wine stash with Chilchuck and they somehow end up sloppily making out?

chilchuck x reader

summary: sharing your favorite spot with your favorite person

wc: 872

content warning: fluff, making out drunk (consent is important!!)

author's note: hi anon, i have been meaning to get to this request for a loooong time, but my francis content blew up by then!! idk what's going on in this one, but the fluff was entirely self-indulgent omg. anyway, thank u sm for the great request, i hope you enjoy this one :) not proof read!!

"it's just through here," you whispered, squeezing chilchuck's hand lightly.

you pulled him through the narrow hallway, taking an abrupt left to reveal your hidden treasure. it was your most prized possession, hidden from the rest of the party for many years.

chilchuck's eyes widened when you had dragged him through the curtain, sliding it shut. "this is..."

"amazing?" you finished his sentence, letting go of his hand to pluck a good bottle of wine from your stash.

"how long have you had all of...this?" he trailed off, looking around in awe. the accumulation of alcohol in such a tiny space would've set the entire dungeon floor on fire.

you chuckled at the awe on his face, sauntering over to his. "you'll catch flies, chi," you tapped his jaw close, ushering over to the little chairs you had set up. "just a few years..."

"we're resting tomorrow so we can drink 'till we vomit," you slid into your chair across from him, popping the cork off the bottle. "then do it all over again!" you cheered, generously pouring into his glass.

when you slid his glass over, you poured yours the same amount, just a smidge more. "cheers," you tipped your glass, his clinking against yours.

"this is some good fucking wine," he swirled his cup after taking a swig, slouching back in his chair.

this wine had been kept here for years, aged for better taste. you had refrained from binge-drinking every bottle and let them further ferment in your hidden storage room.

"you're getting red, angel," chilchuck chuckled, inspected how droopy your eyes got, every blink getting heavier.

unfortunately for you, you were a lightweight.

"no, 'm fine, chi," you shook your head, brows furrowed and nose scrunched, unable to control the contortions of your facial features. "just a little dizzy," you sighed, taking another sip.

although he wanted to indulge you, the dad in him wouldn't allow you to take another sip. "that's enough for you," he smiled, pulling your glass closer to him.

you frowned, trying to grasp at straws. "hey! that's mine," you scoffed, throwing yourself on your own two feet, though wobbly. you threw your arms around, flailing like a fish fresh out of water.

"uh-huh..." he mindless nodded, placing your glass on a nearby end-table. you stumbled over to him, finding yourself placed between his thighs.

your arms were limp beside you, looking down at chilchuck. his hands softly held your waist, looking right back up at you.

"you're pretty," he smiled, reaching a hand up to caress your cheek.

his thumb gently brushed against your rosy cheeks, slowly guiding you down to his lips. when his lips pressed against yours, you made a little noise. he pulled away thinking he hurt you, but you just latched yourself back onto his lips, hand holding the side of his jaw.

the warmth of your body coursed through your fingertips, the heat tingling against his skin. it was entirely silent. even when you climbed onto his lap, hands grabbing his face to press his lips against yours, bodies moving against each other.

you two were so entirely smitten with each other.

and when you pulled away, he'd look at you with that look in his eyes. it was so stupid, it made you feel like a little school girl. "makin' me blush, chi," you mumbled, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"you were already blushing before," he smirked, pinching your cheek softly, making you wince.

you sighed, looking him more deeply in the eye. you didn't know if it was the alcohol talking, but you wanted to consume him whole if you could. kissing him for hours sounded like a good plan.

you leaned in, not close enough to kiss, but close enough. you looked down at his lips, flicking back to look up at his eyes, but ultimately sticking to admire the plushness of his lips.

"you gonna kiss me?" he whispered. you gulped, licking your suddenly dry lips.

"mhm..." you leaned in, kissing him again.

you felt yourself burning from his touch, your toes tingling, your heart beating, and your lips chasing after his every time you parted. you two kissed like two horny teens making out for the first time, rutting against each other like you weren't allowed to have sex.

neither of your hands slipped beyond your clothes, fingers just fidgeting with the fabric. "someone's needier than usual," chilchuck mumbled, fluttering his eyes open to look at what you looked like.

your lips were puffy, covered in his spit. you huffed against him, foreheads touching. "missed our alone time," you smiled, pressing a kiss against his temple.

his hand lowered to your back, supporting your tired figure. the alcohol was getting to you, sleepiness overtaking you.

"me too, angel," he agreed, throwing your face into the crook of his neck. he let you rest there, rubbing his hand on your back.

he heard your little snores, laughing under his breath. you were a quick, heavy sleeper, there was no way he would be able to wake you up once you were out.

"night, angel," he kissed the crown of your head, leaning his head against yours with a big, relieved sigh.

[professorsnape394]

Day 7: Escaping the Manor

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating: 🥰?

Prompt: Flame

Summary: An unexpected member of the Order of the Phoenix rescues Y/N from Malfoy Manor.

A/N: Inspired by the scene in Beauty and the Beast where Belle helps the beast when he gets hurt saving her from the wolves.

Warnings: Mention of sexual abuse. Mention of burns/injury. Mentions of blood.

Word Count: 2216

Credits to Gif Creator

Y/N had no idea how long she had been kept hostage by the Malfoy’s. The dungeon she was thrown in was damp and cold and had no access to any type of natural sunlight. Or any light for that matter. The small torches that had been lit the day she arrived had long since extinguished.

She didn’t assume they were planning on coming back for her any time soon. Their plan was presumably to wait for her to grow weak enough to torture for information when she was desperate enough to give it. They could wait forever and she would still not divulge the secrets of The Order. Her only hope now was to escape.

Long periods passed before she received a visitor but when they did eventually come, they came in two forms; those bringing her scraps of food, and those hungry for her body.

The first didn’t enter her cell and instead passed food through the gaps in her bars. She could attack them sure; she was feisty when she wanted to be, but how could she escape her shackles? The second were more promising. The men who visited her at night liked to get close enough to touch. But as far as she was aware they were under strict orders from Lucius Malfoy to not physically assault her; he was leaving that privilege to himself.

That is when she would strike.

Days came and went before the platinum haired man revealed himself. Impeccably well dressed, freshly manicured hands and well-kept hair, Y/N was positive he would not lower himself to molesting her here in the dungeons. He liked his home comforts.

Bound in even tighter shackles and cursed to remain powerless; Y/N had only brute strength and sheer will power to escape.

Multiple masked men escorted her through the mansion; presumably all waiting to take their turn with her after Lucius had had his fill.

His first mistake was not chaining her to the bed. While she was weak, Y/N would do just about anything to escape this prison.

Lucius locked the door upon entry; it was just the two of them now. That was his second mistake.

Slowly, carefully he started to undress, leaving his discarded clothes in a neat pile on the dresser. The sight of his naked body made her want to vomit.

Y/N lay stiff as a board in the middle of the bed, staring down her kidnapper.

“Don’t look quite so disgusted, Y/N. I’m the least of your worries tonight.”

The thought that that might be true turned Y/N’s stomach. She had seen some of the men waiting for her downstairs, even been touched by some of them, and she could say with certainty that she never wanted to be near a single one of them again.

Biding her time, Y/N played along with Lucius’ seduction, allowing him to think he was winning her over, even if just slightly.

She moaned into him when he kissed up and down her neck while secretly rolling her eyes at the same time.

She leaned into his touch when he caressed her breasts, though her attention was preoccupied by his wedding ring. It didn’t surprise her that a Death Eater was willing to cheat on his wife, but it turned her stomach just the same.  

Y/N even kissed Lucius back when he stuck his tongue in her mouth, it had to be believable.

She moaned into his touch, running her still bound hands up the expanse of his bare chest, letting him think she was heading in the direction of his hard pencil-like dick.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resit me.” He panted at her touch.

Y/N simply moaned louder into his mouth, further deepening the kiss.

Finally, her hands reached his cock.

“Can I?” She asked, putting on her best obnoxiously horny voice. “Please.”

“Fuck yes.” Lucius permitted, moving to lay flat against the bed.

Y/N took her only opportunity to attack. Lowering her mouth down to his erect penis, Y/N took her time teasing the man with her lips. When he was finally zoned out enough, she wrapped her mouth around his shaft and bit as hard as she possibly could.

Lucius let out an agonising scream, shouting and swearing when his vision caught sight of the blood gushing from him.

Knowing she had limited time before a hoard of Death Eaters descended on the bedroom; Y/N opted for the only other exit in the room: the window.

Hands still tied and now working against the clock, Y/N descended the nearest drainpipe with the utmost caution, she was sure there would be men patrolling the grounds and she refused to fall at the last hurdle.

Her bare feet hit the stones with a thwack, but having no time to react to the pain she bolted for the gate.

The grounds were big enough that she managed to dodge the first few wizards she encountered, some of them never even having seen her at all. Others chased her for a bit, but being a lot bigger and slower than her they soon fell behind. She was almost away completely scot-free until she rounded the final corner of the house, ready to make one last mad dash for the exit.

Suddenly out of nowhere, three groups of Death Eaters descended upon her; two coming from in front, two from the left and one from behind.

Flames sprouted from each of their wands, barrelling in her direction. With no protection to defend herself, Y/N knew she was fucked.

Preparing herself for a nasty scolding, Y/N raised her arms over her face, and crouched down to avoid as many shots as she could.

The third man from behind raised his wand just as Y/N could feel the heat from the fireballs approaching. Miraculously she remained unharmed. A protection spell fell over her, deflecting the flames from her body, redirecting them in the direction of her attackers. The last thing she saw before being disappearing from the grounds, was the mysterious masked man, using his body to shield her from the single fireball that made it through his charm.

Looking around her Y/N didn’t recognise anything to decipher where she was; except for one thing. The man who saved her had quickly fell into a chair upon apparating, clutching his arm and hissing frustratedly.

“Severus.” She gasped at the sight of him. “You saved me?”

Her thoughts flooded with a million questions all at once.

How did he know I where I was? Where did he get a Death Eater mask from? Why did he save me? Is he hurt?

“Don’t sound too grateful.” He snapped in response. While he wasn’t expecting a congratulations, she could at least be a little thankful she wasn’t scolded to death. He, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. Peeling back the scorched material of his shirt, Severus revealed a smattering of burns and sores.

“You’re hurt?” She stared at him wide-eyed, finally piecing together the last few moments.  

“That much is obvious. Now do you mind actually helping me?”

It wasn’t unlike for Severus to snap at Y/N but for once there didn’t seem to be as much bite to his bark.

“Of course.” She shook herself back to reality. “Could you?”

With a flick of his wand, Severus vanished the metal cuffs from around Y/N’s wrists.

Y/N hurried herself about Snape’s unfamiliar house in search for anything that might help ease his pain.

First thing on her list; whiskey.

She dropped the bottle off in front of the potions master before scurrying off to find something actually useful. Uncapping the lid and taking a swig straight from the bottle, Severus shot Y/N a thankful glance.

She brought back an armful of rags, cleansing solution and burn creams and ointments, along with a number of potions bottles she thought might help.

“Is all that really necessary?” He rolled his eyes at the sight of her.

“Do you want my help or not?” She dumped the contents on the table and folded her arms over her chest defensively.

“I wouldn’t need your help at all if I hadn’t had to save your life.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I was doing just fine on my own.”

“That much is true. Until the quadruple fireballs came hurtling towards you, that is.” He raised a sceptical eyebrow at the witch, knowing she had nothing to throw back at him.

Begrudgingly, Y/N took her seat next to Snape, and began unravelling one of the rolls of bandages.

Snape watched the woman intently as she carefully rubbed a cold soothing cream over the rough texture of his skin, meticulously wrapping the bandages around the entirety of his arm. He loved to watch her dainty fingers at work, despite the grubbiness of her hands and the days of dirt buried under her nails, she somehow managed to still look pristine. He hated knowing a woman as pure as her had been thrown into a dungeon and forced to endure what she had. It took everything in him not to break her out the second she was imprisoned, but he knew it would have been a stupid risk to take, even for her.

Lost in his thoughts, Severus couldn’t help but let out a sharp hiss as the tight cotton rubbed against his sores.

“Careful.” He barked through gritted teeth.

“Stay still.” She warned him.

The tension in the room only grew thicker, the intensity of the man’s gaze pressured her into silence.

“How did you escape?” Severus finally asked, easing the tension. “I heard what Lucius had planned for you; I was going to get you out, but you got there first. So, how’d you do it?”

“I bit him on the dick.” Y/N admitted, blushing red, embarrassed by the implications of her confession.

To her surprise, Severus let out a loud throaty chuckle.

“That bastard deserves it too.” He laughed heartily, taking another large drink to ease the pain.

The room fell silent. The one question Y/N most wanted to ask dancing on the edge of her tongue.

“How did you know where I was?”

Severus seemed caught off guard by her query, like he hadn’t pre-planned a convincing answer for her to believe. He thought for a second, unsure whether or not the truth was the best response to give. With a huge sigh, Snape tipped his chin in the direction of his other arm, gesturing for her to pull up his remaining sleeve.

Y/N lifted his shirt, revealing a black splotch of ink covering his entire left forearm. The Dark Mark. He was one of them.

Y/N gasped, jumping from her chair, trying to put as much distance between her and the Death Eater as possible. A few bottles tipped over in the process, neither of them cared to stop them from spilling.

Severus remained seated, unmoved, despite her abrupt departure from his side.

“You’re one of them.” She gulped, her gaze darting between the mans face and his arm. “What are you going to do to me?”

“If I wanted to hurt you, Y/N, I would have let those fireballs hit you and saved myself the hassle.” He knew she wasn’t going to take it well, but he couldn’t believe she thought he wanted to hurt her.

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I want you to sit back down and please finish attending to my arm.” He begged, just wanting to be near her again.

“How can you be one of them.” She repeated, her voice barely audible.

“I’m a double agent.” Severus explained. “I spy for Dumbledore and feed information back to the Order.”

“How can I trust you anything you’re saying?”

“You don’t have to believe me, Y/N. But I risked my position to save your life because you thought it would be a smart idea to go off on your own. The least you could do is finish bandaging my arm, and then you’re free to leave if that’s what you want.”

Y/N hesitantly made her way back to her seat, not wanting to piss Severus off further. Afterall, she didn’t have much left to wrap.

“Why did you do it?” She said after a long moment’s silence, her fingers shaking this time as she held his arm.

“Do what?”

“Save my life. If it was a risk to do it, why bother? You could have left me there and no one would have been any wiser.”

“I saw you in the dungeons. I heard what they were going to do to you. I couldn’t leave you there after that. I never would have forgiven myself.”

“Why?”

Severus looked into the woman’s eyes knowingly. He had already revealed one dark secret tonight, he didn’t plan on exposing another.

Y/N quickly looked away, the sudden realisation dawning on her.

Is Severus Snape in love with me?

The look on his face said it all.

“Well, thank you, anyways.” She finished tying off the bandage. “If someone had to save me, I’m glad it was you.”

Y/N placed her hand gently on top of Severus arm.

“Just don’t make me do it again.” He placed his good hand on top of hers, his thumb rubbing the top of her hand affectionately.

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Four - That You Are

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my favourite so far

warnings: mentions of violence and blood, arranged marriage

song: That You Are - Hozier

You let your eyes wander. 

It was not a rarity for the king to request to dine in the gardens, though you don’t understand why he never has a tent put up so one might not suffer so much beneath the mid-day sun. 

It is still summer, the last inklings of it clawing uncomfortably at your dignity as you excessively fan yourself, just below the line of impropriety. 

Your sister has clicked her tongue at you multiple times now, in hopes that you might calm yourself, but you cannot and you will not relinquish your only means to cool down the tiniest bit. 

To your right sits Benji. Actually sits and does not lurk behind you or a few feet away, as your father, so very graciously had ordered him to take a seat and is now boasting over how smart the deal he made with the Brackens and the Blackwoods is and how only a true king could come up with such skilled thinking. 

You’re fairly certain that this could not have come from the little bit of dazed brain he must have left but nobody speaks out, least of all Benji, who simply nods and every now and then thanks the king. 

It’s all quite arduous to sit through and your mind keeps circling back to the end of town and wondering whether the medicine you had made in a hurry two nights ago was doing what it was supposed to do. 

Marion had gone bright red in the face when you had informed her of your indiscreet meeting in the dungeons but you cannot seem to muster up even an ounce of concern over having shared your secret with Benji. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

You allow yourself a stolen glance at him and this newfound sensation overwhelms you again. You cannot figure it out, incapable of identifying the strings that pull at your heart, but it has fluttered up ever since you had entrusted him with your concoction, grown stronger still, when he gave you a clandestine wink to inform you that everything had arrived safely and where it should be. 

Cordelia nudges you beneath the table. “Did you hear a word he just said to you?”

You frown. “Tristan didn’t say anything.”

“No, but father did. You are to begin a courtship with the young Lord Cathcart.”

Your heart drops to your feet, hand clutching onto your sister’s before you glance up to see a wide-smiled Lady Cathcart, her spider-like fingers curled around the king’s biceps. 

Just then your father lays his eyes upon you and smirks. “Is that not wonderful news? And your knight will be there to protect your honour throughout this. Before we know it, there will be more grandchildren roaming the world.” That last part he directs at his mistress, with a beyond disturbing wiggle of his brows. 

You look at Cordelia and Tristan, both of them blank faced. 

Benji swirls the wine in his cup from side to side and nobody speaks for an awfully long amount of time.

The other advisors at the table do not seem thrilled either. 

House Cathcart births unpleasant people, to put it quite kindly. Their Lady was a great example, an insufferable little parasite, clearly seeking to fuck her way into power and sparing nothing but ill-temper and rude words for anybody she does not view as important. 

She is an embodiment of sleaze, if one that has been blessed with wonderful teeth and hair. 

Her younger brother is not much different. You had heard the ladies of the court whisper about his disgusting lack of manners. 

“Father, might I remind you that I have many offers from much…,” you pause, contemplating whether you would actually like to speak your mind. “Well much more esteemed birth.”

Apparently your father has had enough of your face because he no longer makes the effort to look at you. “And yet, you have not enticed them. You will begin your travels to visit him tomorrow.” 

You desperately try to think of a young nobleman you would prefer to spend time with, yet your mind goes blank, your brain one continuous noise of a warhorn being sounded.

You let go of your sister’s hand and scrape your knife across your plate as the conversation resumed, occasional attempts of naming other highborn heirs, perhaps even from another kingdom.

Sure, you think to yourself, might as well remove me from the only home I know. Might as well let me be a cattle to be bred an ocean away.

“Your highness, I believe it is time for your dance lesson,” Benji says. 

Your head snaps up. It is not. 

He nods, the slightest bit, and then turns away. 

You are not certain, but you think the apples of his cheeks are tinted light pink. 

“I must be excused,” you say, as Benji already pulls out your chair for you. 

Cordelia and Tristan exchange a look that you wholeheartedly ignore and yet nobody else bats an eye.

A third-born daughter’s daily schedule is not of importance to them. 

In long strides you walk away from them all, with every inch of distance you can feel your heart cinching, breath shortening and by the time you’re inside the castle, you cannot see straight ahead.

“Hold on one moment, Princess,” he says and grabs your arm to push you down a narrow hallway, his arm around your waist the moment you are hidden from plain sight. Gratefully you lean your whole body weight against his, until you are back in your kitchen. 

With a swift movement you are sat on your chair, hunched over desperately trying to get air into your lungs, even stale and wet dungeon air, tainted by the stark smell of clandestine medicinal practice.

But you cannot. 

Your mother had died shortly after birthing you. Cordelia had struggled through every pregnancy, growing weaker with each child planted in her body and then clawing its way out. 

You think you might hurl. 

“Princess..,” Benji carefully mumbles. 

You try to see him through the blind panic and fury that clouds your mind but your eyes won’t focus, horrible images of what would happen to you. 

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp. 

He kneels in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Yes you can.” 

His voice is laced with uncertainty, as though he doesn’t believe his own words.

Firmly you shake your head. “No, get me out.”

He drags his thumb across the soft palm of your hand. “Out of where?”

Another sharp gasp. 

Here, this palace, this family, this kingdom, this world. 

“My corset,” you all but whimper. 

There is a moment of hesitation, where you cannot hear or feel anything but your own soft cries. 

Then he gets up and walks behind you. 

“My god, this thing is built like a trap,” he mumbles, rough fingers fiddling with your bodice. 

You might have laughed at that. 

It takes him long to help you out of it, revealing the fishbone corset, your hands now clawing at your neckline, praying for some sign of sweet release. 

He is taking forever, or maybe he is not but you have lost all sense of time and space.

Finally there is the sound of a barbaric rip and you are left in your linen shift, panting heavily.

You slump forward and bury your head in your hands. 

Unwilling to be seen, or look him in the eyes - eyes that are undoubtedly looking at you with nothing but pity. 

“Princess..,” he whispers again. You can feel one rough hand through the thin fabric as he circles around to your front.

You shake your head, like a child. “He can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

A soft touch against your wrists, softer than you had thought possible from him. “You’re a witch. Just put poison in his wedding night supper,” he says. 

You snort, an ugly sound, much unlike your usual demeanour. “You-” Hiccup. “Speak treason, Ser Benjicot.”

Carefully he interlinks your hands into one and pulls them from your face. Your forehead hurts from where you dug your nails into it. “You’re smart for a capital girl, you will manage.”

His face is kind and warm, a desire to make you smile clearly etched into the twinkle of his eyes.

“I won’t kill my husband. He is not at fault for my father’s failures.” 

Benji huffs. “And I am the one speaking treason.”

You hiccup again. “He is the king but he is my father no less. And he is horrible at both.”

His fingers sweep hair out of your face, unthinkingly, quickly. “His children turned out quite well either way. A benevolent queen, an honourable heir to the throne and a witch.”

Now he manages to make you smile lightly. “My god, what must a lady do for you to not tease her.”

“I would rather not say,” he answers, and you know there is a double meaning there but you don’t know how to decipher it. You have studied the human body but some things will lie beyond your book knowledge.

Until your bedding ceremony, that is.

Your face drops again and you lean back. “Have a seat somewhere, would you? I do not wish for you to crouch in front of me.” 

“I am your knight. Kneeling comes with this duty.”

You huff. “Does ripping up royal corsetry and sneaking potions into town also go along with it?”

He scrapes the chair across the floor and plops down beside you. 

The two of you sit, and though your eyes are set on the cauldron in the corner of the room, you know he is looking at you.

Perhaps he wants you to say that you feel better?

You decidedly do not, this is after all your deepest fear becoming reality.

Benji nudges the tip of his boots against your calf. 

Everything between the two of you is contrasting. 

“We will find a way. The counsel is against his choice as well, he may be the king but he is not a king at heart and soul.”

A deep sigh escapes you, hiccups slowly fading away.

 “Mayhaps he will be overthrown by the time we reach Lord Cathcart’s castle,” Benji adds. 

Would you want it that way? 

Yes. 

Yes you would.

You would not want him dead, you think, but you want Tristan to rule. You want your father to desert the throne and leave it for somebody capable and dignified. 

Somebody who has honour. 

“Won’t you cheer up, little witch. You still have Marion and me to come with you.” 

A hand flies to your mouth. Marion. “She won’t come. And even if she would like to, I will not let her. Her love won’t let her. Her life is here and her family and friends.” Your hands claw at each other, nervously digging into tender flesh. 

Benji hums. The weight of his oath must be a harsh burden to carry. He will never have a choice but to go where you go.

“I am sorry,” you whisper. “For it all. I know you hate it here.”

He shrugs and grabs your hand. To prevent you from scratching it bloody, you’re certain. 

“I am a man of honour and strength. I suppose it is best put to use for your protection. And the occasional smuggling and destruction of dresses far more expensive than my pay.”

You snort. “It didn’t suit me anyways. Made me pale.”

“Told you. I like red best.” 

He winks. “Like the colour of your cheeks turn sometimes.”

With little force you shove him, your fingers still securely interlinked. “Watch it, I’ll begin sobbing again, my knight.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had bid your goodbyes to everyone at dinner tonight.

A courtship, successful or not, could take many moons and this one is nearly set in stone to end in marriage. Your return home, for now, is a distant dream that you can’t put faith into.

Surprisingly many people had grieved over your farewell. 

Much of the courtiers and even more of the staff insisted that they would miss you. 

Cordelia did not leave your side the entire evening and repeated many times that marriage is less scary than one might expect and that for the most time, your husband would likely leave you be. 

Even Tristan, ever so calm at all times, had looked as though he might like to tie you up if that meant you got to stay and you couldn’t help the deep gratitude you felt for Benji’s consistent, calm presence next to you.

Though you couldn’t claim that you were not deeply embarrassed over how dishevelled he had seen you today, even after he had assured you multiple times that he did not care, as you snuck through the secret passageway back to your room, his cape draped around you. 

Marion had wept the most; her waterlike, bendy fingers preparing your hair for dinner, achieving perhaps her finest work yet. 

It seems sadness is the greatest motivator of the human mind, tears streaming down her face and yet leaving your hair in neat braids. She had apologised many times, that she could not go on this journey with you and that she would likely forever miss your generosity, something you felt she was inflating greatly. 

After all, she had risked her position and even her life every single time she snuck you in and out of the castle walls. 

Your fingers cramp around your quill.

Over the course of your meal, you have come up with a plan once again, though this one might be the most idiotic one yet.

You know that almost everyone with blood rushing through their veins inside this castle is opposed to this marriage and maybe there could be another way to get out of it, but you know it would take long and you will not let your father torture you in the mean time.

Droplets of ink stain your wrist as you scratch forcefully across the parchment. 

You are not dense. You had never tried to trick yourself into believing your betrothal would occur from a love match but you had always been able to comfort yourself with the fact that at the very least you were to do something useful to your family line.

Marry into another important house, a house of wealth or with a strong army. Something that would strengthen the crown and its representation in the kingdom. 

Colour drains from your face each time you think about this fate. 

You’d be ridiculed in the history books, married off to a Baron, the lowest of ranks anybody in your line had married into, ever since the claiming of the throne.

No, you must leave and you must do so quickly. 

Your finished letter remains on your pillowcase. 

Wrapped in your velvet robe you peek out of your door into the hallway where the nightwatch had taken Benjicot’s place a few hours ago. 

“Ser Lawrence. Ser Timon. I wish to not be disturbed during my last night in the castle. Any and all visitors must immediately be sent away,” you tell them.

“Yes, your highness.”

Satisfied you go to lock the door, but then quickly remember. 

“Ser Timon, please tell your cousin that he must reapply the bandage and salve everyday.” 

And with that you turn your back.

You switch your robe out for the most simple dress you own.

While Ser Rodrick had still been around, Marion had kept a better disguise hidden in one of the trunks beneath your bed, but when the change of protector was imminent, she had taken it back home, in fear of being caught. 

You slip into a hooded cloak, in hopes it might do more to keep your identity hidden, wrap a satchel filled with jewellery around your waist, in hopes to pay for travels.

You wish you could take your horse.

Fury is a good horse, in your humble opinion, the most empathetic and perfect companion one can ask for.

Weirdly, she reminds you of Benji, now that you contemplate it.

She looks scary; tall and black and when you had gotten her she was unruly and stubborn but that quickly faded.

A terrifying thought crosses your mind suddenly.

What would happen to Benji? If you were to disappear, would he have to die for it?

You halt in the middle of your room.

No.

That is not a price you are willing to pay for your freedom. You could not in good conscience be responsible for such an atrocity.

Maybe they would let him off the hook? After all there had been a deal made with the Blackwoods, perhaps his family would revolt? 

Would your father have his head still? 

And in mere seconds your last bubble of hope had burst and rained onto you in glittering glass shambles. 

Benji was tough to crack and a little rebellious but you won’t have his blood on your hands forever.

You gaze out the window, see the distant sea. 

But you could still sneak out. For one final night. Check on your medicine. Maybe you could find a tavern to spend time in.

Marion had always said that she loved nothing more than to dance with the common folks, telling never-ending stories of how much lively the music is than at your royal balls, how free and funny the people are.

Yes, you might not run away but for once in your life you would simply do what you wanted to do. 

You pull up your hood and slip into the narrow staircase behind your bookcase. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The streets were bustling, even after nightfall, people chatting away, merchants yelling from every corner, sounds of life buzzing in your ear.

You are smiling, weaving through the crowd. A stranger had handed you a daffodil, proclaiming his inn had the best hunter’s stew in all the kingdom.

Another had told you she could read your future from the palm of your hand, which you of course deemed ridiculous, but had let her do anyway.

She told you that you were destined for a great love. Ridiculous, but endearing in a peculiar way. 

Now you were hoping to find that tavern that Marion so loved to frequent. It was called duckling, or something to that extent. An odd name for a place where people go to drink and celebrate. 

But your feet carry you still, steps lighter than air. You had noticed that your boots were a tad too white, and had promptly walked through every possible puddle to blend in. 

It was exhilarating. You know your privileges and you know them well, but while all the rest of the nobles question how the people of lower birth could live like this, you wonder how you could have gone your life without this. 

Every path revealed something exciting. 

When you had snuck out with Marion, she had dragged you through quiet back alleys, to avoid as many people as possible, but now you wonder if she wasn’t also trying to keep you from being drawn into this magical world you are witnessing now.

A shoulder bumps you and you stumble a bit. 

“Oi watch where you’re going,” came a gruff voice and you almost want to laugh, heart melting at the vulgarity of it, but you have the good sense to not.

“I’m sorry, good man.” 

He grunts and goes to move along but then something catches his eye and he stops.

“Where you from?” He asks.

He has a strong build, tall and burly. You try not to let that worry and flash him a smile. “Arbormere.” 

The man steps forward. You don’t step back. Marion and Ser Rodrick had drilled into you for a long time, that fear is one’s worst enemy. 

“Are ya, now? I ain’t ever met a girl from over there.”

You shrug. “I am their queen’s handmaiden. She is visiting her family,” you lie, quick as the wind and then you decide that you should not remain in one place for so long, shuffling to step past him. 

He blocks the way and before you know it he’s grabbed your arm, with enough force to make you shriek in surprise.

You squirm beneath his grip, attempting to meet the eye of a passerby desperately but nobody seems to notice this scene playing out. 

“Let me go,” you order, with as much authority as you can muster.

With too much ease, you are ripped into a side street. It smells rotten and you close your eyes when the back of your head meets the cobbled wall. 

“Pretty girls like ya’self shouldn’t roam foreign streets,” he says. His breath smells acidic as it fans across the side of your face. 

“Help,” you croak out but you know it is of no use. There isn’t a soul here to hear you in this dark corner.

He squishes your face between one hand, thumb deep in the soft of your cheek. 

“Somebody should teach you a lesson, aye.”

“Yeah and somebody should teach you some fucking manners, you fucking cunt,” a voice rings. 

Benji.

Your face is freed from his grip and you rub where it hurts. 

“Piss off, lad. Ain’t none of your business,” the man tells him.

Something unfamiliar flashes across Benji’s face, a shadow of something sinister. 

Bloody Ben, you think. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he growls through clenched teeth.

He laughs at Benji, his arms crossed. “I’m not gonna fucking say it twice, boy. Piss–”

He can’t finish his sentence before Benji is on him, a disgusting sound of bones cracking as his fist connects with his nose. 

You yelp, a hand pressed to your mouth in an instant. This stranger is considerably larger than Benjicot, who himself could not be described as a slender man. 

The pair of them tumble to the ground and with every hit your sworn protector takes, you wince, as though you were feeling them yourself. 

Blood sprays across their faces, their hands, the hem of your shirt and you wish you could avert your gaze. 

Something glitters. 

“Knife,” you scream. “He has a knife.”

But Benji has already registered it. 

In a movement so smooth and quick that it was barely noticeable, the knife is stuck in the man’s hand.

He wails, guttural and gory and tries to crawl back. 

Your knight gets up from the ground, towers above him. “Get the fuck away.” Then, in an act so raw you are almost taken aback, he spits on him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the stranger staggers away, as fast as his delirious self can. 

There is a sickening swirl in your stomach and for a moment you think you will cry, but then good sense wins and you leap toward Benji.

Panic strains your voice. “Are you well?” You ask, gently inspecting his face. His nose is bleeding profusely. It stains your fingers, streams down to your wrist, thin red streaks across your skin and white linen sleeves. 

He nods. Distance clouds his eyes but then it is almost like he snaps back to this world. 

He flicks your hands away, and searches your face, the way you had done his. 

You grimace. He is clearly in much worse condition. 

“You fucking idiot. Don’t fucking ever frighten me like this again,” he whispers. 

“Do you know what could have happened? What you look like?”

He raises your hands to eye level. “Your hands are soft, you’ve not done work with them ever. Your hair shimmers, you walk like a fucking fairie and you reek of rose and lavender.”

With each word his voice raises to a whisper-shout. “Do you know how lucky you are that you weren’t recognised? How lucky you are that I got here in time?”

The tips of your ears run hot. “I just wanted-”

“What? To run away and die in a ditch?” 

You shake your head fervently. “No! I was going to return, I just forgot to rip up the letter! I didn’t mean to-”

He scoffs. “You’re lucky I was the one to find that thing. You’re the luckiest girl in the world, in fact.” 

Now there will likely be many moments in the future where you regret this moment but you cannot help yourself. “You call this situation lucky? I am lucky that I will be shipped off to be fucked by a disgusting little man for the rest of my life, be forced to bear his children, do as he pleases me to do, until the day I die? You think this is lucky? I would rather spend my time working every hour of every day of every week of every moon until my bones fail me.”

Benjicot comes even closer, the tips of your noses are almost touching. “Do not ever do something like this again. I will give you as much freedom as I can, but I suppose you did not plan to spend a night of freedom being defiled in some dark alley. Don’t you ever do this to me again.”

To him. 

“Understood?” 

He has engulfed your senses, speaking seems too hard a chore now. You nod. Is it normal for a knight to chastise his princess like this? 

“Good,” he whispers, but you don’t let him get away. 

You use the tissue tucked into your cleavage and dab at his nose. Crimson red stains the colour of house Aprikate. “I think I should set your nose.” Your voice is faint, like you’re worried you might scare him off, like some jittery woodland creature. 

“Hmm.” 

Your hand pulls away and your eyes lock. You swallow thickly. That new sensation haunts you again. 

Benji’s hand curls around the small of your back. 

This feels dangerous. You can’t bring yourself to end the moment. 

He does it for you.

“Let’s return to the castle.”

The air feels tense, new and vibrant the entire way home.

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

[reallyromealone]

Here was the original plot. Alpha

Shinchiro is to takes over and becomes an Emperor as he enters his early twenties because his parents were assassinated and his grandfather is to old to rule anymore. He manages to take very good care of the kingdom while also having time for his half siblings and full related brother mikey who is just a pup. Everything is going fine until mikey's wet nurse tries to kill him but is lucky caught before she can pull it off and is immediately dealt with.

Now Shinchiro is in a pickle. Mikey needs to nurse but he doesn't trust any omega to do it, that's until he meets name.

The man is an unmated omega who works as a gardener in the palace grounds and he offers to help because the sound of mikey's distressed cries caused him to lactate.

Shinchiro is about to refuse but something strange happens.

Mikey stops crying at the sight of the man and even tried to reach out for the omega to carry him, something he does only to family members, heck the pup was even fussy around his former wet nurse before she decided to fuck up.

Seeing no better option the Emperor agrees and let's name be his brother's wet nurse for the time being.

He begins to notice just how kind the man is, especially when he takes care of his siblings and the young toddlers and pup just absolutely love the man to bits. He finds himself beginning to begrudgingly fall for the pretty man, even starts to lust over him, becomes possessive by scaring off any alpha or beta trying to court him in secret. He tries to keep his composure in check but loses it when name accidentally goes in early heat when he's with the Emperor alone in his study.

Hope tumblr doesn't eat this one

@pastel-omegas-blog

So Emma's gonna be a year older than Mikey in this

I changed a few details to make more sense and heads up

This is long

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Shinichiro didn't want to be emperor like this.

It was the morning of his twentieth birthday, little Mikey having been only a few weeks old when things went to hell.

His parents were set to return from business this afternoon to celebrate when their carriages were...attacked.

So now here was emperor Shinchiro Sano, grandfather too old to rule and a baby brother who depended on him.

Izana didn't fully understand what happened, only being three and a half.

Emma even less so.

Despite the kingdom in mourning over the loss of their beloved ruler, Shinchiro pushed on and took the torch.

He was unsurprisingly an excellent ruler, having been groomed for this his entire life.

Things were going smoothly till Mikey's wet nurse was dragged before him.

"We saw her with a blade above the prince, your Highness!" One of the guards said as the woman struggled to get free, Shinichiro stared at her coldly.

"You tried to kill him?"

"P-please your Highness have mercy!"

"Mercy? You just tried to kill my baby brother..." Shinichiro seethed "take her to the dungeons, her trial will be tomorrow"

Shinichiro immediately rushed to check on Mikey who was sleeping happily, the medics having checked on him.

"Shin! Play with us!" Izana said excitedly, completely unaware of what just went down as Emma held her big brothers hand as they stared at shinichiro with wide eyes.

"Jiros awake?!" Izana said as shinichiro crouched "yeah, he's awake but remember indoor voices, his ears are still little" shinichiro said as the two looked at their baby brother curiously.

Shinichiro let his siblings take him to one of the palaces many gardens "(name) gonna be here?" Emma asked Izana and Shinichiro looked at the two confused "whose (name)?" Instantly suspicious and it didn't help at what just happened less than two hours ago.

He was on high alert currently.

"The gardener! He taught us how to make flower crowns when he was eating his lunch!" Izana boasted as they spotted (name) currently spot cleaning the impeccable rose bushes and getting rid of any pesky weeds.

Shinichiro knew of this Gardener, he was one of the few omegas that weren't a maid or Butler.

The two children immediately ran towards him and (name) had to halt them "remember the rules?" He said firmly and the two pouted "no muddy shoes or Mr. (Nanny) has to give us baths" "exactly, now what can I do you two for?"

"Come meet our brother!" Izana demanded and (name) looked up to see Emperor Shinichiro himself standing there with a tiny babe in his arms, staring at (name) coldly "your Highness!" (Name) immediately bowed before the emperor, the two toddlers confused at the sudden shift.

"Thank you for being attentive to my siblings" Shinichiro said stiffly as (name) avoided eye contact with the emperor, knowing his feelings towards omegas and honestly (name) couldn't blame him.

"(Name)! You should make shin a flower crown since he's emberer!" Izana said excitedly and Emma perked up "Yeah!" And (name) just wanted to die right there.

Then little Mikey began crying.

"Shhshh" shinichiro tried soothing the babe and (name) struggled with his instincts.

You see, he spends a lot of time with the royal pups and Because of this, his bodies biology thought there were babies needing to be fed, thus his chest began producing milk.

And crying pups? Basically opened the floodgates.

Shinichiro noticed this and looked at (name) confused and a little startled.

Then Manjiro reached towards the gardener needily.

He had never done that.

Well not with anyone outside family.

"Y-your highness, I am most definitely overstepping but do you want me to feed him?"

Shinichiro really wanted to say no but he didn't want his brother to starve so begrudgingly he sat on a stone bench and motioned (name) to sit beside him "anything happens to him I will have you beheaded" shinichiro said coldly as (name) unbuttoned his shirt "understood, your Highness" (name) said gently taking the tiny pup who immediately latched on and ate vigorously.

"Are you with child?" Shinichiro asked confused as the two other pups chased a butterfly, leaving the adults to converse.

"Ah no, you see..." (Name) explained how the whole lactation thing happened and Shinchiro nodded in understanding as (name) gently burped baby Manjiro "so brave, you did so good!" (Name) said softly as he handed the babe back but Manjiro wasn't ready to leave the embrace of the Omega much to both of their surprise.

"Continue holding him, he seems to like you" shinichiro commanded and (name) did, holding the royal pup close to his chest.

Shinichiro debated in his head and after realizing he has no better options he came to a begrudging acceptance "I want you to be the pups full time nanny and wet nurse"

(Name) looked shocked and confused "I don't know if I would be qualified your Highness.."

"My siblings seem to take a shining to you and you're the only Omega that wasn't our dam that Manjiro liked" Shinichiro said professionally, eying the omega who smiled down at his brother and the pup looked back happily.

"I will accept, I wouldn't forgive myself if this little angel had to suffer because of me"

Shinichiro made a sound of approval "follow me then, you two!" The tots looked at their brother "come, we have to show your new nanny where he will be staying" the toddlers immediately followed after, shinichiro lifting Emma as Izana held his hand.

(Name) was surprisingly great with the royal pups, attentive and kind and even finding ways to include little Manjiro in their games, the tiny blond just happy to be there really.

Over the months Shinchiro noticed how much the pups genuinely cared for the Omega and vice versa and how kind he was to everyone and everything.

It was mid day when he noticed (name) playing peekaboo with Manjiro as the two pups had their classes with their tutor, little Manjiro squealing when he saw the omegas face again.

Shinichiro wondered how well of a damn he would---

No. Absolutely not.

He was not going to have those thoughts about that Omega.

It was two am, shinichiro lay in his bed unable to sleep as thoughts of the Omega plagued his mind.

The thoughts weren't innocent either, the emperor saw the omegas chest today and it hadn't left his brain once.

It wasn't like (name) was trying to seduce him intentionally either like the last nanny had attempted.

Maybe it was his instincts and seeing the Omega caring for those close to him.

Shinichiro went about his business, pretending he didn't care about the Omega.

But everyone noticed how... possessive he became over the other.

The pups were having a playdate with the Akashi children, Shinichiro giving (name) the day off to spend as he pleases.

(Name) was getting ready to go into town, get some things he needs and see his family when an alpha halted him.

"You're... (Name) right?" The Alpha looked slightly embarrassed as (name) glanced at him "yes? Are you alright?"

The Alpha swooned at his caring nature "I-I was wondering if you wanted to possibly..." The Alpha fumbled with his words and sadly Emperor Shinichiro aka (name)s most begrudgingly down bad alpha heard this interaction and even worse that head knight Wakasa was with him.

The Alpha paled as the two entered the space, (name) bowing politely to both of them calmly "hello your Highness, Sir Wakasa" (name)s voice even as Shinichiro looked at him then at the Alpha "return to your station" and like that the poor alpha scurried off.

"You off to see your family?" Wakasa asked the Omega who beamed "yes! I'm also going to do some light shopping" (name) said softly and shinichiro felt jealousy as how casual the two were together "you two know one another?"

"When he was still the gardener, the knights would bother him by moving the soil for him for extra weight training" wakasa explained knowing of his close friends feelings towards the Omega "honestly at that point I just had them move it for me" (name) jokes with a soft laugh and shinichiro wanted to hear it more.

Shinichiro was never the luckiest with courting, people mainly wanted him for status but (name) just treated him like an employer and sometimes fond acquaintance.

(Name) plagued not only his thoughts but dreams, Shinchiros mind coming up with the raunchiest of scenarios usually involving (name) in various positions doing various acts.

This Omega was going to kill him

(Name) was quiet as he followed shinichiro in the library, it was absolutely massive and filled with various books.

"You want children's books?"

"Yes your Highness, to read to the children and I learned Manjiro enjoys stories... He really likes stories about hero's and dragons" (name) explained and Shinichiro nodded, the other caretakers never made attempts like this with his siblings.

(Name) genuinely cared for the pups, Shinichiro pretended like he didn't see the Omega sneak the pups treats from time to time.

"Well we don't have a shortage of those..." Shinichiro said turning to look at the omega "thank you... For taking such good care of them" shinichiro gently cupped (name)s cheek and traced his thumb over (name)s cheek "I must confess... I have also albeit begrudgingly... Grown quite fond of you myself" shinichiro gently pulled (name) closer to him, (name)s hands on the Emperor's chest "is this why you scared off any person who tried speaking to me?" (Name) joked slightly and Shinichiro looked away embarrassed "you noticed that?"

"You practically attacked them" (name) laughed as he gently moved hair from Shinichiros face only for the emperor to gently kiss the palm of (name)s hand.

Shinichiro didn't realize how many pharamones he was pumping out, wanting to kiss the Omega so badly "I wish to formally court you" Shinichiro stated as he looked deeply into (name)s eyes, the Omega was shocked before mumbling "really?"

"Absolutely..."

"I accept"

Months had passed as they got closer and shinichiro wanted nothing more than to take the Omega and ravish him.

That was until today.

Shinichiro wanted (name)s company that day, the children with grandpa Sano that day so (name) was free for shinichiro to monopolize as he pleased.

The two sat in his office as Shinichiro aggressively did paperwork, pumping out pharamones like a madman "s-shin..." (Name) gasped out, slumped against the ornate couch as the Alpha finally looked up to see that (name) had entered an early heat most likely due to the pharamones.

"(Name)! Are you alright?" He rushed over and checked on his Omega, (name) whining when he touched him "I-I think my heat..."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nest?"

(Name)s room would have been to far, so shinichiro took him to his own where the Omega clung to his bedding "do you want me to leave?"

"Please no... Please stay... I-I feel safe with you"

Shinchiro felt his heart stop "you know what that means right?"

"I trust you..."

The two ended up bonding from that heat, kick-starting their wedding in the process.

Shinichiro was far more openly romantic with his Omega now, showering him with gifts and affection as the pups grew excited that (name) and shinichiro were getting married.

Except little Manjiro.

The five month old baby growled angrily whenever Shin tried to get to his food source and cuddle buddy, the tiny baby snacking at shin if he got to close.

"ABABABA!" Mikey yelled out as shin glared at his brother "he's my mate! I get to hold him too!"

"No!" Mikey yelled angrily and (name) began laughing, that being the babes first word.

"So angry he learned his first word" shinichiro sighed as his brother clung to (name).

[slytherin-princess-x]

What’s up guys I’m back with a story/ slytherinmas kinda thing….enjoyyy!

Toxic Games:

Summary: this is a toxic enemies with benefits story but when you end up kissing mattheo’s rival something in him..snaps

Chapter 1: Serpent's Den

The Slytherin common room pulsed with magic and mayhem. Green lights danced across stone walls, casting eerie shadows that matched the questionable decisions being made by drunk seventh-years. Bass-heavy music thrummed through ancient floors that had seen centuries of secrets, though probably none quite like the ones I was about to create.

I knew exactly what I was doing when I pressed my lips against Adrian Pucey’s. It wasn't about him – it never was. It was about the piercing dark eyes I could feel burning into my skin from across the room. Mattheo Riddle, Slytherin's resident heartless bastard, who thought he owned every inch of this dungeon... including me.

I pulled away from Adrian with practiced grace, making sure to let my fingers linger just a moment too long on his chest. The poor boy was already half in love with me – they always were. But he wasn't the target. No, my target was currently crushing a crystal goblet in his hand, dark liquor spilling over pale fingers.

I didn't have to wait long.

The stone wall hit my back before I even saw him move. Mattheo's hands found my hips with bruising intensity, his breath hot against my neck. The party continued around us, but in our corner of the common room, time seemed to stop.

"Why the fuck did you kiss him? To make me jealous or something?" he huffed, fingers digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my dress.

I let out a laugh, cold and calculating. "Jealous? Please." My eyes met his, challenge written in every blink. "Everything I do makes you subconsciously want me more and more, so why would I need to make you jealous when you're already falling over your feet for me?"

A smirk played on my lips as I watched his eyes darken to obsidian. His grip tightened, and I knew there would be marks tomorrow. Good. I wanted them there.

"You're not in my head, y/n," he growled, face inches from mine. "I don't want you."

"Yet here you are, still playing this game." I leaned closer, my lips barely brushing his ear. "You know I win every time."

The music faded into white noise as tension crackled between us like badly cast spells. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek – the tell-tale sign that I'd gotten under his skin. Again.

"My dorm. Now." The words came out as a command, rough and raw.

I arched an eyebrow, victory already taste-testing on my tongue. "Make me."

His eyes flashed dangerously, and before I could draw another breath, he had my wrist in a vice grip, pulling me through the crowd. Bodies parted like the Red Sea before him – everyone knew better than to get in Mattheo Riddle's way when he looked like this.

As we approached the boys' dormitory stairs, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in one of the ancient mirrors lining the corridor. We looked exactly like what we were – two vipers about to strike.

This was how our game always played out. We'd push and pull, bite and kiss, hate and want until something snapped. Tonight wouldn't be any different.

Or maybe it would be.

Because this time, as Mattheo practically dragged me up the spiral staircase to his private prefect's room, I couldn't tell if I was winning anymore – or if I'd already lost.

[To be continued...]