#which is great cause he needs more color on his skin

[mebssann]

Spreading my 'Viktor tomato face when blushing' propaganda

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: When your boyfriend finds out he didn't make you come, his anger quickly turns into lust.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving/giving), teasing, cursing, mature themes, fingering, talk of sex and orgasms (obviously)!

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

"So, how's your boyfriend?" Dorcas Meadows asks you one evening at dinner. She leans in closer and she sings-songs the questions as if your boyfriend is some kind of burning hot scandal. You glance up from your plate, your eyebrows creasing, as you cover your mouth to swallow and then answer your friend, 

"He's fine. Why do you ask?" you can't help the warmth that rises in your cheeks at the mention of James. Sure, you've only been dating for three months but it's been an absolutely amazing three months. 

"No, no, I meant in the bedroom," Dorcas deadpans which causes you to almost choke on nothing as your other friends chuckle. 

"How'd you know about that?" You ask, sending a glance at Lily Evans who looks sheepish as she shrugs her shoulders from beside Dorcas. She was the only one who was supposed to know you had slept with James a week earlier. You made her promise not to tell anyone because well, the experience had been slightly disappointing. 

"Heard he didn't make you finish," Dorcas continues carelessly and your eyes round when you see James and his friends come up from behind her. Dorcas didn't see them and she finishes her sentence with a wide smirk, "Who would have guessed James Potter is shit at making girls come?"

Your heart pounds in your ears as James stands behind Dorcas, his mouth open and his cheeks suddenly burning crimson. His friends stand on either side of him, their faces drained of color, and you feel like you could just crawl into a hole and die. Your fake moans come back to haunt you; 

"James, J-James," you groaned, wrapping your legs around him as you bruised your face in his neck. James's curls stuck to his forehead as he moaned into your skin and sucked on your collarbone. Thinking you had finished, he pulled out and kissed your lips before he smiled an exhausted smile. 

"What?" Your boyfriend mutters, his voice shaky. His friends are silent, not daring to make a sound as yours look horrified for you. Dorcas's shoulders are tense and she looks at you, muttering a "sorry," behind her breath as she shoves her mashed potatoes in her mouth.

You've never seen James leave the Great Hall so quickly and you sprint after him. You manage to catch his arm and pull him into an empty classroom. You press your hands to his chest, letting him lean against a wall, but he just pulls your hands away.

"James Potter is shit at making girls come?" He repeats Dorcas's words, his tone piqued, and you can't tell if he's more upset or disheartened by the implications of the words. "When we," he pauses and turns his head away from you, "you didn't orgasm?" 

Frantically, you claw at his collar, shaking your head as guilt overwhelms you. "No–I- I didn't, but James," 

"You faked your orgasm?!" James interrupts, hurt now evident in his eyes as his voice grows more squeaky.

"James, I- I didn't mind," you start to explain, "Really! You were just so close and I could tell you wouldn't last much longer and- I needed more time. I didn't want to make you wait for me," you bite your lip, looking up at him. 

James's chest is rising and falling rapidly. His dark, hazel eyes flicker from yours to your lips and then to all your features in the middle. Gently, he lowers your hands from his collar. "Y/n, why didn't you tell me?" his voice comes out strained and broken.

Your heart shatters. "And why have you been going around telling all your friends I'm shit at making you come when you never even gave me the chance! I thought you had!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," your expression hardens and you scrunch your nose, "No one was supposed to know. I only told Lily because she's my best friend. I tell her absolutely everything! I guess she must have mentioned it to the others. I'm really sorry, James. Are you terribly angry with me?"

James frowns. He obviously wants to feel angry with you. He wants to be seething mad that you faked your pleasure and then went around telling your friends, but all he can think of is that night. How you looked; that beautifully flushed expression, mussed hair against his pillow, the way your lips had opened and closed to let slip your moans. 

James clenches his fists. Had that all been a lie?

He looks at you now and his eyebrows scrunch. He walks closer to the wall, backing you into it as you stare at him. You can't help the way your heart is beating as his closeness. "Okay, tell me, what did I do that made you feel good then?" James asks seriously and you're surprised by the question.

You'd expected more yelling, or blaming—

—definitely less seducing. 

"I-," you pause when James's eyes narrow and his hand moves to hold under your chin, wrapped easily around your neck. You inhale, eyes widening as he applies some pressure. He looks angry but there is also a deep, lustful, fire burning behind his eyes. His breath fans over your mouth as he whispers, 

"What. made. you. feel. good?"

"I- I liked when you kissed me, kissed behind my ears, kissed my collarbone," you mutter, breathing becoming even harsher as you remember that night. How you'd been sprawled out on his bed, legs intertwined, and he'd kissed all your worries away. James wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, under your ear, and you let out a shaky breath. 

"I- also- I liked when you used your fingers," you say as if prompted by the feeling of James's foot sliding over yours and pushing your legs apart. His hand dips down to your panties and he feels how wet they've become. He doesn't comment on it, just slips his hand under them and teases your clit.

"You should have told me," he reprimands in a whisper, his fingers sliding up and down your slit. 

You clutch onto his arms and shake your head, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you mutter like a prayer. 

"You should have told me because I wouldn't have stopped until my girl had come for real," James says with a nip at your skin. You let out a whine as his finger easily slides into you and he kisses you to muffle the sound.

"Fuck, my gorgeous girl. How could you?" he says as he pulls away and looks at you with slightly glossy eyes. "How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't want to embarrass you," you whimper as he runs his thumb on your clit. 

"Embarrass me?" James's eyes darken and he uses the hand holding your chin to push your head against the wall a little harshly, he scoffs, "You did just that and so much worse, my lovely," he pauses, "It doesn't matter anymore because I'll show you that James Potter can make his girl come." 

"I'm sorry," you say again. You chew your lip to suppress the needy sounds you're making. James shakes his head with a smirk and kisses the side of your mouth. He then moves his lips onto yours, teasing you with his tongue. 

"You will be," he smirks and slides his hands down your sides until he's on his knees in front of you. You look at him, his hair is messy and his expression is flustered. James grins wolfishly. He squeezes your hips and pulls up your skirt to bunch around your waist as he kisses above your panties.

"Did I not spend enough time on foreplay with my girl? Is that what it was, lovely? Was the feel of my cock just not enough for you," he soothes your embarrassed whines with another sweet kiss on your exposed stomach, "don't be shy, it's okay. You should have told me," he insists again, his words still a little harsh.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," is all you can manage to mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel James's hands grip onto your thighs. You're already soaked. How embarrassing. James smirks and pulls down your panties. He slides his index over your entrance and hums when he feels your wetness. With a wider smirk, he spreads your pussy lips and exposes your needy clit. 

"You're so needy, love," James teases, "I just can't resist kissing you all over." 

As he says this, he attaches his lips to your clit and you let out a broken moan. Your hands find his hair and you chew on your lip so your noises aren't muffled. James hadn't done anything like this the last time. It had been messy and needy the first time. He'd used his fingers to open you up but you'd both been so eager, you'd missed foreplay. 

It seems likely the lack of foreplay was the issue because you feel like you're in heaven now. 

"J-James," you moan, almost incoherent as he licks and sucks at your core like a starved man. You didn't think he'd be so good at this. Your thighs clench around his head and when he pushes them apart, you moan uncontrollably. 

"Don't," James reprimands as he opens your legs and looks up at you. You can barely focus. James smirks and licks his lips. Standing up, he takes your chin in hand. "Do'ya wanna come on my tongue or my cock, darlin'. Please, tell me now because this time you are coming. I'll make damn sure of it."

You can barely form coherent thoughts let alone words as James tightens his grip on your chin. "Tongue or cock, Y/n," he says so seriously your stomach clenches with need. 

"I- I don't know," you whimper. 

James drops your chin and makes the decision for you. With a smirk, he lowers his head and places his lips around your clit again, sucking until you're once more a moaning mess. With one last whimper, your thighs tremble and you come apart. 

James moans into your pussy, pulls away, and uses the palm of his hand to rub your clit as he finishes you off. You're completely spent when James stands and kisses you. You can taste your own release on his tongue and feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh. 

"Jamie," you whine, eyes lidded. You want to please him too. 

James just deepens your kiss and whispers into your mouth, "What do you want?"

You reach out and run your hand over the bulge in his trousers. James hisses and grips your wrist, shaking his head with a stern look. "Honey, this is about you. 'M okay," he promises, but his eyes squeeze shut as his cock hardens even more. He mutters a curse under his breath. 

"I wanna," you mutter. It's your turn to drop to your knees. 

James's protests are futile because you have his cock in your mouth very quickly. While you don't necessarily enjoy giving head, this time it feels entirely deserved and you suck him eagerly. James's hands find your hair as he curses, "Fuck me," and his hips involuntarily buck into your mouth.  

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna come," he mumbles, biting his lip. 

You take him deeper, encouraging him with a small smile as your hands find his thighs. You feel him want to pull away, not wanting to come inside your mouth, but you hold him still. With a grunt, James comes and you look up at him as you swallow obediently.

Without another word, James pulls you up and smoothes down your skirt as he spins you around and kisses you passionately. You help him tuck himself back into his trousers as he kisses you and you smile against his lips. "Thank you," you say. 

"Don't thank me for making you come, darlin'," James argues, his cheeks still a little flushed from coming and the lingering embarrassment. You move to hold his cheeks in your hand and you kiss his nose. 

"Thank you for making sure I'm taken care of," you whisper anyway and lean your forehead on his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," you say. 

James wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer, "Damn right you should be," James's eyes soften and he kisses your cheek, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't tell me. Just know, from now on, when we play—I'll make sure you come. Hard."

You giggle at this and James just nuzzles his face in your neck, enjoying the beautiful sound of your laughter.  

[bloatedandalone04]

Pretty, Red & Lace

Summary: You and Rafe have spent the last three Valentine’s Days together, and this year is no different. Except for the fact that this time, you’re spending it together as husband and wife, and you both plan to make it the best one yet.

Word Count: 2.7k | THANK YOU FOR 5.7K FOLLOWERS !

Warnings: smut ofc, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking cause it’s rafe, dirty talk, swearing, fingering, multiple orgasms.

The last four years have been the best of your life by far, and you knew that the longer you were with Rafe, they would only continue to get better and better. 

You met Rafe during your second year of University, and while he wasn’t a student like you were, you somehow managed to run into each other while you were out getting coffee and he was out trying to find something for his youngest sister’s birthday. 

Although you were already running late for your class, you let him buy you your coffee, then let him convince you to spend the day with him instead of attending your boring four hour long lecture.

It was safe to say that you didn’t need much convincing at all. He was young, attractive, and he bought you your coffee and a bagel. How could you say no? 

After you got into his truck and spent a good two hours helping him pick out something for his sister, you gave him your number and told him to call you sometime, and he ended up calling you the next morning. 

One breakfast date later, you were head over heels for him, and the rest is history. 

Now, four years later, you had long since graduated, moved in with Rafe, and began starting your life together. In August of last year, he proposed to you in the cutest way imaginable, and around November of the same year, you were married. 

For your first Valentine’s Day as husband and wife, Rafe went all out. Well, more than he usually did. He booked the most expensive and nicest resort he could find, and put in a reservation for a whole week. He planned to spoil the ever living fuck out of you, once again, more than he usually does. 

After a fancy and rather expensive dinner at one of the many restaurants the resort has, Rafe took you back to the massive suite, where he loosened a few buttons on his shirt and kissed you for a good ten minutes. You stayed behind while he went off to go get more champagne, and you decided now was a great time to strip out of your dress and put on one of the many lingerie sets you brought with you. 

The one you chose was a pretty shade of red, Rafe’s favorite color, and you felt giddy as you slipped into it, knowing he would lose his fucking mind over you and probably forget all about opening whatever bubbly drink he brings back with him. 

When you heard the door open again a few minutes later and saw him walk in with a bottle of pink champagne, you grinned to yourself as you moved towards the big bed he’d already fucked you in more than once since you checked in yesterday morning. 

The bottle nearly slipped from his hand when he saw you, his eyes instantly darkening as he took in your barely covered form. The lacy bra did practically nothing to cover your breasts, let alone your nipples since they could be seen through the thin fabric. The matching thong also did nothing to cover your ass, which was perfect since Rafe’s had a thing for that part of you ever since you got together. In fact, it was the first thing he noticed about you while he was standing behind you in the line at the coffee shop you met at, and he shamelessly told you that on your first date. 

Your stunning features and sweet yet sarcastic personality were what had drawn him in though.

As the door closed behind him, you leaned against one of the four posts of the bed, crossing one leg over the other as you lifted your hand and waved your fingers at him. “Hi, baby,” 

Rafe’s eyes roamed over your nearly naked body, taking in every inch of skin showing through the red lace. He was already hard as he gazed down at the length of your thighs, and the small piece of fabric that barely hid your core from him. “Hi, gorgeous,” he said back, setting the bottle down on the table near the door to be forgotten about until he had his fill of you. “Fuck, baby, you look stunning. My stunning, sexy, perfect wife.” he mumbled, and when he reached you, he gently grabbed your chin in between his fingers and guided your mouth to his in a deep kiss. 

You moaned against his lips, kissing him back as his hands wrapped around your waist. “Just wanted to wear something nice for you,” you whispered when you pulled back, and both yours and his lips were glistening with each other’s saliva. “I know how much you love red, and when I saw this the other day, I couldn’t help myself.”  

Rafe groaned as you pressed your body right up against him, and he looked down at your cleavage that was flush against his chest. His hands slide down to your hips as he pulls you impossibly closer, his thumbs teasing the lining of your thong. “You look fucking hot,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to your shoulder. 

You weren’t surprised when his hands slid further down to your ass and squeezed firmly, but you were a little caught off guard when Rafe spun you around and pushed you down gently onto your stomach on the bed. 

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbled, taking in the sight of you bent over the end of the king sized bed, your barely covered ass on full display to his greedy eyes as he moved towards you. His fingers traced the thin line of the thong that emerged from your soft skin, and then he wrapped it around his index and middle fingers and pulled on it so it was pressed right up against your core. 

You whined and writhed on your stomach, your eyes wide in excitement and anticipation as his other hand slid up the length of your spine. He leaned over you and placed open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck as you whimpered, and your clit throbbed against the flimsy lace that was quickly beginning to dampen. 

Rafe finally loosened his grip on the material before he stepped back, his fingers hooking into the sides of the thong as he slowly pulled it down your legs. “Mmm, you’re even pretty back here,” he whispered, guiding the useless piece of fabric around your ankles before he tossed it aside. “Such a pretty pussy.”

You whimpered softly as the cool air of the room hit your exposed core, and you were already so wet for him. “Rafe,” you whined, knowing he was probably going to take his time and really try to drag it out tonight, and while that thought only added to your excitement, you also weren’t sure how much longer you could go without his mouth on you. “I need you. Please…”

Rafe smirked down at you before his hand lightly slapped your ass, making your body jolt forward as you gasped. He grinned, trailing his fingers along your inner thighs as he knelt down on the floor behind you. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” he murmured, leaning in to press soft kisses all over your reddening skin, “You know I always take care of you.”

His fingers part your slick folds, and he hums at the wetness that instantly coated his digits. He circles your clit with his thumb, applying barely any pressure at all and teasing you further, making you whine some more.

“Please,” you begged again, desperate for something, anything at this point. “I need you, baby, please? I’m so wet for you, Rae. I need you so badly. Taste me, give me your fingers, fuck me, anything. Please.”

He lets out a deep laugh before finally giving in, and he slips two of his fingers inside you. “Like that, baby?” he rasps, pumping his index and middle fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. Rafe’s thumb went back to circling your clit as he worked you open with his fingers, and his eyes stayed fixated on the way your arousal dripped down his hand. “Fuck, you are wet, huh?” he teased, stretching out your tight walls as best as he could before he pulled his fingers out. 

You lift your head and look over your shoulder, watching with parted lips as he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean of you. Then he leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds, parting them with his tongue. 

“Oh…fuck yes,” you gasped, your head falling forward once again as he ate you out from behind. You buried your face in the sheets as you subtly wiggled back against him, silently encouraging him to full on devour you. “God, yes, Rae, your mouth is so good. You’re so good to me.” 

Rafe hummed against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core. His mouth moved to your clit, where he sucked and flicked at it with his tongue while he pushed his two fingers back inside you. “Mm, you taste so fucking good,” he praised, gently tugging on your puffy clit with his teeth as he fucked his fingers in and out of you faster. 

Your cry of pleasure was music to his ears, and his cock throbbed almost painfully in his boxers. You were so hot, so drunk off the feeling of his mouth and fingers, Rafe would never get tired of hearing the sweet, sexy sounds you only made for him. 

“I can feel you getting tighter,” he murmured, putting a little more effort into the thrusts of his hand as he felt you clench tightly around his fingers. “Let me taste you, baby. Cum all over my face.”

Your legs started to shake as you fisted the sheets in your hands, your moans growing louder as you got closer and closer. “Rafe, fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, baby, fuck,” you begged, and the knot that had been building up inside you tightened with every passing second until you let out a soft scream into the sheets as you came. 

Rafe worked you through your high, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of you as he licked and lapped at your dripping pussy. “That’s my good girl,” he cooed, pulling away from you once your trembles became less intense. His lips and chin were glistening from your release, and he waited until you were a quivering mess draped over the end of the bed before he pulled his fingers out of you and licked them clean again. “You okay, sweet girl?” 

You nodded slowly, your legs still shaking as you stayed on your stomach. “I’m good,” you answered, lifting your hand in a thumbs up that earned you another deep laugh. “You’re way too good at that, Rafe. Like, stupidly good at it, you know that?”

“Well, when you have a pussy that’s as perfect as yours, it’s hard to hold back,” he replied, rubbing his palm over the red handprint he’d left on your skin before he gripped your hips and rolled you onto your back. Your hair was messy now, your makeup was a little smudged, and one of your bra straps was off your shoulder, but you were still the prettiest thing Rafe had ever seen. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby.”

You were still a little breathless as you propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, kicked off his slacks, and pushed his boxers down his legs. His cock was rock hard and already leaking for you as it brushed against his abs, and you bit down on your lip as he crawled on top of you. 

His big hands wrapped around your biceps and moved you a bit further up the bed until your head was just below the pillows, and then he reached around you for the clasp of your bra. He slid the straps down your arms and let it join the rest of the clothing that was scattered around the floor, and his hands were instantly on your newly exposed skin. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he muttered, his thumbs and index fingers gently rolling your nipples until they pebbled under his touch. “Want me to fuck you now, baby? Are you ready for me?”

You nodded quickly, spreading your thighs for him to settle in between them, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Yes,” you answered, draping your arms around his shoulders as he guided the tip of his cock towards your entrance. 

When he thrusts forward and sinks into you, a moan of relief leaves both yours and his mouth as he bottoms out inside you. “Oh fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hands tightly gripping your hips as he slowly pulled back, only to push deep inside you once again. “So tight and wet for me.”

Rafe leaned in and kissed you, his tongue brushing against yours as he fucked you a little harder, making you moan against his mouth. You wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders and hiked your thighs up higher around his waist as he rocked into you, the increasing intensity of his thrusts making you feel light headed. 

Your hand runs over his prickly hair, his decision to buzz all his hair off before this trip turning out to be a fucking great one, because he looked hot as hell. “Oh, my God, you feel so fucking good,” you whined against his lips as he held you in place for his thrusts.

He broke the kiss and looked down at you, watching the way your tits bounced gently with every thrust. “Yeah, you like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you? Love it when I fuck you hard, huh?” 

You nodded at his words, your eyes barely open as you looked up at him. “Mmhmm, I love it,” you agreed, making the corners of his lips turn upwards before he leaned back down and kissed you again. 

One big hand stayed planted on your hip while he braced his other one beside your head, using the leverage to be able to fuck you a little harder and deeper. His hips hit yours over and over again, the slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing around the room and mixing with your needy whines and his deep grunts. 

“Fuck, your pussy’s so good,” he moaned against your mouth, becoming equally as drunk off you as you were with him. A breathless laugh escaped your lips when his hands slid under you to grip your ass again, and he lifted you slightly to meet his thrusts. “I’m gonna cum soon…fuck, you feel too good.”

He pressed his forehead against yours as you moaned loudly, your own orgasm not far away either as he fucked you so good. Your hands moved to his face, your fingers brushing along his jaw as you felt your body begin to tense up again. “I love you,” you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut as your back arched, and a few seconds later, you came for the second time.

Rafe groaned, burying his face against your neck as he felt your warmth flood around him, and he quickened his pace. “I love you,” he said back, pressing firm kisses to your shoulder before he let out a deep, guttural moan as he came inside you. He continued to thrust shallowly, ensuring not a drop escaped you, before he finally stilled. “Fuck. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”

You laughed when he rolled onto his side, making his softening cock slip out of you, and when he lifted his arm, you crawled towards him. He laced his fingers with yours and brought your hand up to his mouth, where he pressed multiple kisses to your engagement ring and wedding band. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” you said back, snuggling against his chest as you both tried to regain control over your breathing. 

And, like you predicted, once Rafe had his fill of you, he wandered back over to where he left the bottle of the now warm champagne, and you spent the rest of the night sipping on it in between hated make out sessions.

-

Happy Valentine’s Day ❤️ @broosterradley @rafesbabycakes @kartoonzking @rafesdreamgal @bxresford

[sanzaibian]

Congrats on 1,000! I was hoping you could give me a haircut! I always wondered what if look like with a pompadour or soemthing like that

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! Thank you for choosing our service !” You are welcomed as soon as you set foot inside the building. “You will be accompanied by Rilaj Mam, an associate of Dr. Davod, who is known for having studied all sorts of arts of the hair. - Please call me Rilaj, using mam makes me feel old !” A voice is being heard from further inside the shop. - Sorry, but it’s in your namecard !”

As those two bicker, you approach the place where this mysterious man is, and find a quite small man, dark-skinned, folded eyes, and silky black hair arranged in a man bun – although the rest of the head is flawlessly shaved down to the skin. He wears colorful clothes, including a big bandana, and presumably the large hat and the pair of sunglasses that have been put down on the counter, all hiding what your trained eyes recognize as a ripped body.

But when you come just a little but closer, that short guy, presumably Rilajn suddenly turns to you – almost looking up to you – and smiles, full of kindness, though there is a tinge of malice behind his pitch black eyes.

“No matter ! I now have work to attend to !” He finishes the bickering, before addressing you. “I was waiting for you ! Please take place on this seat !”

You oblige, finding the seat to be extremely comfortable, much more than most barbershops you’ve ever been to. Almost too comfortable, considering this shop is temporary, after all… However, you’re here to relax and change hairstyles. Your hair has grown quite a lot since last time, and it’s about time you arrange it up. And trying a new style is just the cherry on top.

“So…” Rilaj, the barber, starts, coming with a bottle full of a weird black substance. “I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that… your hair is way too short to make a good enough pompadour. You should have come in like… two months or three to have enough length to do what you wanted.”

You look at him disappointed. As if to prove it, he takes a strand of hair from the very front of your mop and drops it down your face, only reaching the base of your nose. And this shop is going to be closed by the time you grow enough hair, so although you can always come to another later, shelling out money for what is simply a bit of a silly tryout feels pointless.

“However, the good news is that I have a way to make a great pompadour thanks to my very special technique. So… are you interested ?” The barber offers with a malicious voice.

Still taken by your disappointment, you don’t think much and, foolishly, you agree immediately. You see his smile grow, as you are regretting having agreed so quickly while not considering what this technique is.

“Great ! Well, we shall start with a bit of trimming, no ? ‘Cause your hair might not be long enough, but it still needs shaping for this new cut !”

He draws out clippers and installs on it quite a big guard. Then, he turns it on, and starts mowing at your hair, tufts of it dropping from the sides of your head. His cutting style is quite peculiar, though, using the clippers only bit by bit, tuft by tuft, as if he was cutting with scissors. However, when he has finished one side of your head, continuing by working on the back, letting yet more strands of hair fall, you notice that the result is very regular, with each hair the exact same short size.

Somehow, that unorthodox technique works, and you are left with a great and very soft carpet of hair – which you were able to feel once he put down the clippers. Then, he draws out some scissors, of which one side is shaped in a sort of comb-like structure. He explains to you how it will make your hair less dense, which will make it easier to style, and better able to receive the special technique.

As he chops down some hairs on top, making the remainder of the mop lighter, you notice how silent he is throughout the whole ordeal. Although he seems like quite a jovial guy, even quite chatty at times, he doesn’t seem to be like other barbers, pulling you into discussions about what you did recently, or other mundanities. But looking at his pitch black eyes, matching his pitch black hair, you feel a weird sense of… tiredness ? coming from him. You can’t quite describe it, but as is always said : the eyes are the door to the soul. And behind the eyes you feel a truly ancient soul.

“That’s about it ! Now we’re coming to the good stuff !” Rilaj suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Let me just show you…”

He takes the bottle of black stuff in his hands, and presents it to you through the mirror, before uncapping it.

“This is what I call nuuch’ay ! Don’t try searching it, you won’t see anything about it on the web. It’s an old tradition from my people, forgotten today, but that is very potent.”

He starts dropping it on your hair. It has a very slimy texture, and drops slowly. Looking at its pitch black but slightly shiny form, it almost looks like rubber… Once the bottle is fully emptied out, he puts it away on the counter. You look at it and notice a label, on which there is something written. You can’t understand it, the letters spell words you haven’t seen anywhere, but you do note that the handwriting is very neat and elaborate. It’s the kind of style that would belong in a historical document.

“Now, let me just rub it all in, and then I’ll be able to… pull your hair out of your head, let’s put it like that.”

You are quite disturbed by this. As he is spreading the black goo, you’re wondering about what kinds of irreversible damage it would make to your hair… if it’s pulling out your hair, won’t it damage the follicles ? Destroy your hair, and making go bald when the hair inevitably drop ? But as you’re considering whether to flee as a matter of precaution, you find that you’re actually unable to move. You look at his eyes… still a deep, deep black hole…

You are now trapped.

Concentrated, Rilaj starts, as promised, pulling on your hair. He does it first in the front, and just as he starts pulling, you feel weird… as if he is pulling on other parts of your body. You look at yourself, and aren’t really able to notice anything that has change… but as he suddenly pulls a second time, you feel a bit weird in your belly.

He pulls once again. You feel… tighter, as if the flab that you had been accumulating over the years was being… pulled back. Another pull. This time, you feel weird in your jaw, a weird sense of tingling all over your face… and on point, you notice that, as he pulls another time, there is no more facial hair. If you could draw your hand to your face, you’re sure you would feel it to be all smooth.

He continues pulling, the pain and the tightness being felt on all parts of your body. You look up at your hair, and notice black strands, reaching far higher than they ever have… and they are stood perfectly. It’s a feeling that you’ve never had, and as he pulls yet another time, tightening your body yet again, you feel kind of… hot ? Like, you’re wearing a haircut quite elaborate, your face is devoid of beard… you feel beautiful, and, dare you think, cute !

He continues pulling out your hair, continuing to tighten everything in your body, as he starts combing your new longer hair. The comb goes higher, and higher, your body feels tighter and tighter, until he goes back to the rest of the hair, revealing a big, tall, but not obnoxious pompadour.

The definition of beauty and hotness.

And as he finishes combing the rest, the barber looks at you, smiling from a well done job, just like you are from a wonderful haircut. You are enamored by the pomp, so much that you fail to realize how big your clothes now are on you. You want to feel it, you want to touch it… but before you can make your hand reach, not even registering how you’re suddenly able to move, Rilaj blocks your arm.

“No, you can’t touch it just yet. It needs to dry up a little bit more before you can, else you will mess everything up.”

Dry ? You do as said, but that use of words does throw you for a loop. And your barber notice, since he then adds a few precisions.

“See, the nuuch’ay is derived from rubber, and we need to let it dry a bit before it can keep its shape. I have variants that dry a lot faster, but for hair, only this one gives out good results.”

Of course ! It’s rubber ! You knew it ! Especially now that you look again at your pitch black and slightly shiny pompadour, the same color as the short guy’s man bun. He goes to fiddle with his tools, putting away the comb, scissors and clippers, and drawing out another bottle full of that black thing… “nootcheye”, was it ? Whatever, that rubber thing he put on your head.

Feeling he was finishing up, you feel like it’s appropriate for you to stand back up… but just when you are in a vertical position, you feel something dropping. You look below, your pants and your underwear are on the ground, your shirt being the only thing still hanging on, although it is by now only hovering around your body.

You cry in shock, drawing the attention of the barber, who smiles, almost mocking you – though you don’t feel anything truly mean about it.

“Oops ! I guess I didn’t consider that law from that one smart French guy – what was his name… Lavoisier ? yeah, Lavoisier’s law of conservation of matter.” He half-mocks, sticking out his tongue.

You glare at him, growing angry.

“Okay, okay, don’t need to be this upset ! I was going to explain how the nuuch’ay works before you left anyway !” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Basically, it’s just stretching your body so that the hair is higher, so it had to take mass from somewhere else – that somewhere being your fat, mostly. « The nuuch’ay is currently keeping your body stretched, meaning that you will stay like that for quite a while. However, once it completely dries up, it will crack and then your body will go back to normal, whence why I couldn’t use the instantly drying up nuuch’ay.”

He starts helping you out of your shirt, revealing a lithe body, one that you hadn’t seen since early puberty. Although you can see muscles, they lack any definition, and are only revealed by the low amount of body fat you now have. By all definitions, you can now call yourself a definite twink. No matter how much of one you already were, by now there is no mistake, with how hairless and skinny you are.

“It should last about a month or two, I didn’t check when I made this bottle, but if you want to end it early, you have to warm your hair up with, for example, a perming machine.” He continues to explain, as he starts uncapping his other bottle of ‘nootcheye’. “But until then, your hair will stay exactly like this, no matter how much you squeeze it, wash it, or mess it up !”

As if to prove his point, he squeezes down your pompadour, and as he removes his hand it bounces back into place, as if nothing had happened. Bewildered, you let your hand reach your hair, messing it up in more and more extreme ways, but like rubber, it always gets back to its place. It just feels… surreal.

“By the way, we don’t have any spare clothes for you – all the spare are made for bigger people – so I will use this bottle to create clothes. Don’t worry, I have great taste.”

He pours the bottle of nuuch’ay he had in his hands, and it spreads over all your body, from your neck down to your feet, creating a big, black, shiny jumpsuit. But as it settles, red accents and multiple crevasses appear, until it has formed into a kind of black leathery tunic, one that you would more readily see in fetish publications than in the street.

But you love it.

And under the smile of Rilaj Mam who artfully wanders out of the field of view, you take a photo to commemorate that new hairstyle, that new shiny black pompadour.

But before you go out of the barbershop, after having collected your bag and your unfortunately big clothes, Rilaj stops you.

“Sorry to bother you, but could you grant me a favor ?” He draws out a short red cigarette. “I found that thing when I went to Tokyo a few weeks ago, and I think your uncle might be interested in it.”

You look at him shocked when he suddenly mentions your uncle – especially knowing the unfortunate fate he suffered.

“Now, don’t make this face. I knew who you were ever since I saw your name booking this haircut, that’s the reason I chose to cut your hair. That guy at the welcome desk can attest that I’m very selective with my clients.” You hear a frustrated ‘yes’ from far away. “But if you have any questions, ask them to him, I won’t say anything he doesn’t want me to. After all, he is the only one who has the right to answer them...”

Hearing his tone, it feels as if he wanted you to ask questions to your uncle… Does he feel smart for trying to so blatantly manipulate you ? Or does he realize that you can’t ask questions to your uncle and expect a coherent answer anymore ?

“And, seriously, don’t use that cigarette. You saw how potent the nuuch’ay is, and this is more insidious. On that, send my regards to your uncle. Xtiqaatz’at chik na qii’.”

Without waiting for you to react, he leaves out the door, leaving more questions than answers.

[little-forest-goblin]

Hehehehehehe I got an idea from your Candy Girl story. (Of course only if you're comfortable with this. I will absolutely understand if not.)

Female Reader has a thing for suckers. Lollipops, Dum-Dums, Blow-pops, etc right? And she just pull them out of nowhere sometimes and it drives Five crazy. Because she always smell sweet because of the candy and it turns her lips and tongue different colors and that really distracts him.

From there, let the muses guide you my friend. I eagerly await your thoughts. Thank you!! ♡

oooo most certainly! this is a great story idea! Without further ado i present you…

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Blow-pops and Blowj0bs

(My candy girl pt.2)

Warnings: Oral (F and M receiving), Dom five, If you squint there's a little bit of scent kink, Begging, dirty talk, spanking, creampie (I hate the word too), Hair pulling, Color kink? (Is that even a thing?), P in V, Tooth rotting fluff

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After the whole pyromaniac stalking incident five was quite protective of you. He didn't want anything bad happening to you. He was making complete sure to keep you within some form of eyesight 

And good god was it killing him.

He wanted to make sure you were nearby or at least within the general vicinity of where he was. He loved you alot and didnt want anything bad happening to you but you being around was killing him. Not in the sense that he hated it. Its the fact you drove him wild.

You were a candy maker. You made some of the sweetest candy he has ever tasted. He never wanted to admit it but every time you made a candy for him he wanted to melt and take you with him. He wanted to hold you and never let go.

It also drives him nuts because sometimes you were reckless and almost got hurt. He swore he was gonna be grey before he physically got older. He liked to watch you make them cause it was interesting but holy shit you worried him. One of these examples is the day you were making hard candies which required you wearing thick gloves and melting your skin off hot candy. 

He watched with nervous air to himself as you poured the hot sugar batter onto the countertop and began to mix colors into the boiling hot mixture. He watched as you kneaded the mixture to get it nice and mixed in. 

“Be careful don't burn yourself, sweetheart.”

you chuckled and kept kneading “Its alright i got it” you stretched it out messing with it. you stretched it up as far as your arms could go.

A piece of the sugary boiling lava dropped into the counter and your attention was immediately diverted to it “Oh oops”

Five began to panic seeing that the boiling mixture was slowly dropping towards your head “Y/n!! The candy!!”

you looked up at him “hm?” you looked up at the mixture “Oh!” you simply just moved it back onto the counter like you didn't almost get a hospital worthy injury on your head and face. 

Little shit like this was sending five into a coma. You had little to no awareness or self preservation. He was honestly shocked you didn't die when you were a kid. He could only imagine you were on those child leashes as a kid being pulled around to the correct location your parents needed or wanted you to go in. 

It wasn't just these things that sent him into a heart attack or a coma. It was also the fact that you just drove him crazy. You were just so pretty and so odd he couldn't help but be attracted to it. You were more relaxed and carefree, something he has never been. 

What also drove him crazy was how sweet you smelled. You worked around candy all the time so he assumed it rubbed off onto you. You smelled so sweet and sugary almost like if he licked you he would get a cavity. He loved it. He couldn't help it. 

Late at night he often curled in closer and buried his face in your hair obviously for comfort and because he loved you but because he had to smell that scent of sweet. 

What made your scent also very unique was if you were working with flavors that day you would smell like the flavor of the candy. So if you worked with cherries you smelled faintly like cherries. If you worked with lemon you smelled faintly of lemons. 

Your lips also tasted sweet. They were sweet and sugary and tasted like flavors of the lollipops you ate that day. Those god damn lollipops.  

right about now he was in the kitchen with you as you prepared to make a new batch of candy. You had been wanting to make a new flavor of chewy candy. You were checking them off on the list making sure you had the tools and ingredients.

“Five, babe, can you get me my measuring cup please?” you asked

he nodded “Sure thing” he turned to grab it until he heard the familiar crinkling of wrapping paper. his head turned to look only to find a Blowpop between your lips. It was your favorite flavor. 

He loved that flavor too but not because he liked it himself but because it was usually the flavor of your lips. You had more of that flavor than any other ones which inevitably became the flavor of your lips.

He watched as your tongue flattened against the sucker. The flavor melts onto your tongue, coloring it softly at first and slowly growing darker. his eyes were on your tongue. 

He recently has become more infatuated with your tongue and the different colors it would become. He couldn't help it but be..attracted, i guess you could say. 

He had to quickly leave the room in a hurry, making you confused. 

“You alright!” you asked him as he left

he let out a strangled “Yeah!” 

He was in fact not fine. When he got to the bathroom he shut the door and locked it with his back against the door. His head fell back as he panted. His pants were straining so hard it almost hurt. 

He was quickly unbuckling and letting his rock hard cock out. It was beading precum at the tip and the veins were throbbing. His cock twitched. His tip was a deep flushed angry red. 

He swallowed not expecting to be this hard over the color of your tongue. his hand wrapped around his cock immediately his cheeks flushed and he let out a hiss of pleasure “Holy shit” 

His thumb rubbed at the tip and spread the precum down his rock hard cock. The pressure and friction from his own hand made him let out groans. 

His hand sped up making his head fall back and his lips part. He kept stroking his rock hard cock and his mind was completely on you until it wasn't enough anymore and he was cumming. rope after rope of hot white cum shooting out into his own hand in a desperate attempt to keep it from dirtying and soiling the bathroom.

He leaned back against the door painting. His thighs were still shaking a little. Fuck he needs you so badly.

Timeskip

You were simply sat on the couch watching one of those shitty cooking shows on the TV. The lady on the screen was making a strawberry shortcake with a big TV worthy grin.

five never understood why you liked these shows much but his best guess was cause you wanted new ideas. He heard yet again wrapping paper crinkling. His dick already twitched. He looked over and saw you had a blue blow-pop unwrapped and in your mouth. 

Your lips are wrapped around the sweet sucker. The blue color leaves the sucker itself and coloring your tongue this blue color. The color spreads to your lips making it ultra blue. 

Where the fuck are you getting these lollipops anyway? How do you just have one all the time? The weirdest time he has ever seen you have one was when you and him had gone off to the store and you hadn't seen the wet floor sign and slipped onto your back.

>Flashback< 

He looked at you confused as you were on your back looking up at the ceiling. The floor was wet and soaked the back of your jacket. You had a sucker in your mouth that you just randomly pulled from…he doesn't even know where.

“Did you steal that or something?” he asked as his brows were furrowed

you shook your head “Nope”

He opened his mouth but closed it again. He opened it again and decided no again. Finally when he found words he spoke up “Where are all these lollipops coming from?”

“Everywhere”

he sighed and facepalmed. He pulled his hand back and started helping you up “Okay you know what. Come on. The floor is no place for you to rest.”

you let him help you up trying to not be as embarrassed. The back of your jacket was wet and clung to your skin. He sighed and helped take your jacket off. He hung it over his arm and looked at you. He smiled softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You okay?”

you smiled and pushed your cheek into his hand “Im okay.”

“No pain?” he asked softly 

you shook your head. He let a little sigh of relief out.

<End flashback> 

He never understood where they just keep coming from. Obviously your pocket he knew that but why? How did it seem never ending?

“y/n?” he said a little bit choked

you looked over at him “Hmm?”

he swallowed. He couldn't help it. His eyes were dark and intense. It made you freeze up and an ache in your stomach forms. One look from him was all it took for you to lose yourself. 

you let off a nervous chuckle. The way he looked at you made you incredibly nervous and not exactly a bad way. You decided to fuck with him. You smirked and took the lollipop out and licked it slowly.

That was his shattering point.

He couldn't take it anymore. He stood and came to you sitting beside you and pulled the sucker from your mouth and replaced it with his thumb. His thumb pulled down your bottom lip opening you up. 

You let off a startled noise “F-five!”

he growled “Dont fucking talk, princess. Wrap your lips around my thumb. Now.”

you were looking into his eyes. His voice held no room to argue. So you tried but he kept teasing you by putting enough pressure or force to keep your bottom lip from meeting your top. You whined and he finally relented.

He moved his thumb back and forth in your mouth. He hissed at the feeling. “Fucking hell. Such a tease. Licking the lollipop like that making me fucking crazy.”

he gently pulled open your mouth looking inside at your tongue. Your tongue a beautiful blue and your lips painted to match. He kissed you. his tongue entering your mouth. The flavor of blue raspberry was shared. Your tongues tangling. He let off a little moan at the taste and you were melting into it. The kiss dominated by him leaving you breathless and needy. Your pussy aching for attention.

He pulled back, catching his breath. When he got enough breath he finally spoke up “Get on your knees. Now.”

his tone held room for you to say no. Which you sure as shit weren't going to do. You got on your knees between his spread thighs. 

“Good girl. Such a good girl listening to daddy when he tells you to do things.” he smirked his hand going to your head playing with your hair

you looked up at him through your lashes “Just wanna make you proud of me” before he even told you to your hands went to the front of his pants feeling his stiffened cock in his pants so hard and probably painful it was a wonder he had any form of self control. 

You unbuckled his belt and let out his stiffened cock. He hissed feeling the air hit his cock. “Come on baby. Dont leave daddy waiting.”

you didn't need to be told twice. You took his cock into your mouth which made him let out another hiss in pleasure. 

Your movements had him keening. Your lips wrapped firmly around his cock. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft. Your head moving up and down. Your throat relaxing. He was sure he was gonna prematurely blow his load like he was some virgin again. 

“Fuck just like that baby.” his hands pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail. You were kinda grateful for that cause you wanted to see his beautiful face and also hair in his mouth no matter the situation was not something you even wished on your worst enemy.

His eyes were locked on you. Hair was in front of his eyes but he could see perfectly. He was entranced by how the blue color had mixed with your spit. His cock glistened with some of your spit. He groaned and his cock was already twitching at the sight of the blue saliva covering his cock and your blue lips wrapped around his shaft. 

He didn't know why he thought it was so hot, he just did. He groaned as he tried to hold back his orgasm but it was soon becoming all he could think about 

“Fuck fuck fuck!” he pushed your head sown his head falling back. You choked a little your eyes widening. he began to move your head for you fucking your face. 

“Fucking perfect girl…driving me fucki ng crazy! Holy shit, I love you! HOLY FUCK!!!” he came down your throat rope after rope. You swallowed it all down and pulled back panting. Your cheeks are red. Your pussy ached and you felt how embarrassingly wet you were. He looked just so good as he came down from his high.

He pulled you up into his lap kissing you gently “You did so well. I didn't hurt you right? not too rough?” He buried his head in your neck taking in your scent. Your scent is sweet like strawberries making him nuts all over again.

you shook your head “No i actually really like it.”

he smiled “You liked it when i was rough?”

you nodded making him smile and lay you down the couch suddenly making you squeak in surprise “Well than baby. I can get rougher. Let me return the favor”

you blushed and let out soft sounds of pleasure as he kissed down your body worshipping every piece of skin that he came in contact with. He worshiped your thighs kissing each of them. up and down. 

He looked up at you asking for permission first which you obviously gave a nod too. He may be going rough tonight but he always wanted consent. Honestly it made you giddy knowing you bagged a good man. 

His head buried itself in our pussy licking and tonguing at your slit making you gasp and your hands hold onto the sheets. “Oh holy hell, five!”

he smirked and his thumb went to your clit rubbing smooth circles making your hole quiver. His tongue entered you, fucking his tongue inside you. Your head fell back onto the pillow, your back arching up. Desire tightened in your belly, arousal made your heart beat faster and the pleasure shot through your body like electricity. 

“Holy fuck five just like that…OH FUCK!” your hand went to his hair as he switched tactics. His lips wrapping around clit sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud. His fingers in your wet heat moving in and out. 

He curled it just right making you see stars. Your moans got louder and reverberated off the walls. He hummed in delight at your pleasure making you get a joky of pleasure. 

You looked down at him and something about how pussy drunk he got when he ate you and how he looked like he would die happy there made your belly tighten up and send you over the edge, your back arching up and your hands clawing at the bed. 

He drank your juices like they were his favorite drink. His cock rock hard again and he was sure he was gonna blow his load from just seeing this.

He pulled back his chin covered in your nectar making the sight all the more erotic. You were in bliss your body in an high or a buzz. 

He still needed you, badly. He scooted closer, opening your thighs up. You looked up at him 

“Please y/n i need you so badly.” His cock rubbed your sensitive pussy making you shudder. You nodded

he grabbed your chin gently “I need your words.” his eyes were wild with need and lust. He needed to hear you say you wanted him “Use your words for daddy” 

you swallowed back a lump of saliva “Please fuck me daddy” 

five wasn't expecting that and it sent it straight to his cock. He growled and pushed inside making your eyes fly open wide and your lips part.

He stayed still letting you adjust for a minute “Fucking hell baby. The prettiest girl with the tightest fucking pussy.” his forehead fell to your shoulder trying to hold back the urge to just fuck you senseless instead of letting you adjust. You drove him wild.

You were shaking. You felt so full. Everytime you and him did this you felt so full. It honestly kind of shocked you. 

He looked into your eyes searching for any signs of discomfort and when he didn't find any he was relieved. He always worries he might hurt you and when he sees that he isn't its like the world is lifted right off his shoulders. 

“f-five please move. I need you so badly” you said a little whiny and needy

he chuckled “Need my cock so badly huh baby? Don't worry you're getting plenty” before you could process his hips pulled back all the way out and slammed back inside you. His pace was brutal. Rapid Skin upon skin was the filler of the room along with the mix of yours and his sounds of pleasure.

“Take this fucking dick baby. Take it!” he angled himself to get deeper inside making you yelp 

“Oh fuck right there!!” you screamed in bliss. He went closer to you wrapping his arms around you holding you close as he fucked you senseless. His cock brushing your walls. His head burying in your neck taking in the beautiful scents you held upon your skin. 

He felt your pussy convulse and squeezed his cock. “You gonna cum baby? Gonna cum on my fucking dick?” 

you nodded, biting his shoulder. Your hands going down his back. He pulled back a little and kissed you tasting that raspberry flavor still on your tongue “cum for me” he said in between the kiss. 

You couldn't hold back and came on his cock squeezing it like a vice your walls massaging him. He growled and pulled back and looked down watching as you quivered on his cock. He chuckled and watched as your relaxed into the pillows before he broke it and flipped you over onto your stomach catching you off guard 

he leaned down to your ear “Im not fucking finished yet.” he smirked and you could feel it against your ear. His hands wrapped into your hair and pulled a little forcing your head back as he leaned over you so he could look at your face. His hips started up again slamming into yours and into your sensitive pussy. Your body was still so sensitive. you were moaning so loudly surely the neighbors heard.

“Oh fuck five plea-“

he spanked your ass making you yelp and jump. He spanked you again making you bite your lip “What's my name again princess?”

“Daddy please!” you whined out your eyes looking into his eyes.

he gave a sadistic smirk “Good fucking girl” he let go of your hair and his hands went to your hips lifting you up some more and his hand pressed to the middle of your back keeping you down as he fucked you hard and fast. His hips slammed into your ass. Clapping sounds could be heard. 

you looked ao fucked out, stars bursting your body as pleasure took over again. you whined cause this one was strong because of how sensitive you were. “Daddy, I'm so close!”

he chuckled “Yeah your close baby? you close for daddy? You wanna cum, hm?”

you nodded rapidly “Yes daddy i wanna cum! I wanna cum so badly!”

“Beg for it baby. Beg to cum with daddy. Beg to cum on my cock”

you moaned loudly your whines and groans heard around the room and house 

he spanked you again making you jump. His hand went and soothed over your reddened bottom “I didn't hear begging.”

“Please daddy let me cum with you! fill me up! let me cum on your cock!”

he smirked darkly his cock twitching inside you “Get ready baby”

oh god you couldn't take it. his thrusts got rapid as he chased his orgasms. His hips stuttered as he finally came inside you rope after rope of hot white cum. It made your eyes roll back and your own release trigger made your pussy squeeze his cock of everything it was worth. 

After a while of staying like that with his cock buried deep inside as you and him caught your breath, he pulled out his softening cock. He gently flipped you over and crawled over you kissing you tenderly. He pulled back for air looking int your eyes. Your eyes held love and softness for him that he will never ever get tired of seeing. He always felt so special seeing it. His eyes held the same love and softness for you in them and your heart leapt. 

His hand smoothed your hair back “You okay baby? I didn't hurt you?”

you chuckled softly holding his cheek. “No, I'm fine. More than fine actually, I'm great.” 

he chuckled. He looked into your eyes as his own were soft and loving. He kissed you again as he laid down holding you. 

He pulled back for air. He rested his forehead against yours. Your hands holding each others, your bodies close together. “I love you, y/n. I always will.”

you smiled and kissed his nose “I love you to five. I don't know where i would be without you”

you and him laid like that for a while just wrapped in each other's love and care for eachother. You and him went to clean up in the shower afterwards enjoying eachothers company before changing the sheets and blankets before laying down cuddling into each other and taking a nap. You and him were wrapped in love and harmony. That's all that mattered. 

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Hi i hope you enjoyed my story! Thank you to my follower here who sent in this request! I have more requests i am working on. Anybody who has one please feel free to send them in! i love you be safe out there 😘 💋

[anomaly-hivemind]

Tangled Up ☆ Naga x Reader | Kinktober Day 25

Summary:  You just wanted to camp out and explore the jungle, but apparently, something wanted to explore you as well.

Word Count: 2098

Tags: fem reader, double penetration, monster, naga,  cunnilingus, slight perversion, reader depravity, tongue fucking, face fucking, face sitting, sixty-nining, power bottom reader, bondage (in a way), creampie, vaginal and anal penetration

 I was going on a camping trip, it was going to be just me, myself, and the great outdoors all alone with nothing but trees and wildlife. My biggest dream is to find some once-in-a-lifetime thing. But for now, I just wanted to have a peaceful outing without city distractions. I had a book bag or two full of everything I could have possibly needed for half a week in the forest. 

I was hiking up the mountain, seething in personal regret that led me to be out there as if it wasn't by free will.  Maybe I should have worked out a couple of weeks in advance of this trip; maybe then I wouldn't have felt like death was wrapping its bony fingers around my legs.  Everything hurts, I would turn around if I wasn't already so far in; it would be too much work.  The better plan is to walk towards the nearest clearing and camp there for half a week. Thankfully, it wasn't that far off when I found a clearing.  It was a nice mossy ground with a bunch of trees surrounding it; I couldn't have gotten luckier. 

It takes about an hour to set up everything, and now I feel like I learned a little nap. 

…………………………………………………………………

I woke up to shuffling noises outside my tent… was it some kind of wild creature like a leopard? Or maybe it was another person? Regardless, you grabbed your machete, carefully unzipped your tent, and peered outside. Your eyes widened at what you saw. It was a naga, like straight out of fantasy novels or a movie. 

He was big, around fifteen feet from what you could see, with small, rounded black scales covering his tail and some scales scattered here and there blended nicely with his dark gray skin. There were some on his hands that reached up to his upper wrists, back, and shoulders that seemed like they might be useful for defense, but then there were others on his collarbone, cheeks, and under his eyes, that seemed… to enhance appearance. Perhaps it was a part of attracting a mate? Of course, you didn’t know for sure; after all, you weren’t a naga, and this was a whole new species! It was exactly what you were hoping for.

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at my Dutch oven over the put-out campfire curiously, which allowed me to see his scaled and pointed ears, which were previously hidden behind his medium-length honey-colored hair.

He shifts around the area of your campsite. Messing and looking at all the stuff that you left out. His jaw unhinged as he began lowering one of your overnight cameras into his mouth.

“Wait a minute, that's not food!” You said abandoning the safety of your tent and jumping out to stop him. His slitted pupils shifted over to you. Suddenly you were feeling a lot more nervous than before, You clutched your machete tighter, ready for anything to happen. Snakes only attack when feeling threatened or when hunting, based on the fact that he was about to eat your camera you guessed that he was a bit hungry, hopefully not for you. 

“A human?” He said slithering towards you. He circled around you, inspecting you curiously and you turned with him. Rule number one of dealing with creatures in the wild is to never turn or back to them. However you didn’t notice that he now had you trapped in the circle of his tail. 

“You’ve encountered humans before?” You asked for a hint of excitement in your voice and maybe a bit of fear.

“One. tried to kill me. I kill him. Then eat, not good.” He spoke, and his words caused A bit of shock in you, but you guessed it was in his nature. 

You can only hope that his disinterested taste in humans would mean that you were safe on being a meal for the large snake beast.  His bright eyes stare into what feels like your soul as he closes the circle, and his tail surrounds him. At the same speed, it takes you to blink, you are stuck in the grip of a large constrictor. You let out a groan as you try to pull away. 

“Please don’t kill me!” you whined as you looked up at the naga in hopes that you could see into what he was thinking.

“I will not kill you,”

“So, can you let go of me?” 

“No,”

“So you're not going to eat me, you’re not going to kill me… are you just curious?”

“Cu..ri..ous?”

“It means you want to know or learn about something.”

“Yes. I am curious,”

“Oh, that works out fine. I’m curious about you, too, so let's learn about each other.”

Over the next two days, you learned all about Naga and, like to say, you taught him about humans, You also learned his name, which was Ornanger. What you had been really dying to know, though, was what that naga-peen looked like. You had drawn diagrams of all his body except for his dick. And you had to know what it looked like, in the name of science of course. Oh, who were you kidding, Ornanger was too sexy for you not to hit that.

“Hey, Ornanger, I'm just gonna get right to the point I’d like to see your penis.”

“Penis?” He gives you a head tilt.

“Your reproductive organ?” 

He looks down at his slit as he moves to get the so-called penis you desire to see. You watch him as he pushes his fingers into himself; he lets out a sigh. He moves slowly and gently as it is assumingly an It was certainly a sight to see, but when not one but two cocks pushed out of the slit.

The tips were a healthy shade of purple, like a grape or a plum. They had a sweet shine to them, but the purple faded out to his regular gray skin tone. The tips were slightly pointed and a bit slanted, while the shafts themselves were long and kind of slender.

You bite your lip at the sight of the two monster rods.  You want it, want to get closer to it, and potentially even get a taste of it if you can.

“Can I feel it?”

They give a few strokes; you use both your hands to give them some needed attention in your hands; their smooth texture feels new to your senses. The precum spread over his shafts so easily. Oranajer let out a hiss as your hands slid down his cocks.

“What about you? Show me yours. Is it so different?” You were surprised by his request but you weren’t gonna argue and quickly discarded your pants and underwear. 

Ornanger looked at your front in confusion before looking and sliding between your legs for what you supposed was a better view.  He pulls you closer, giving your cunt a few sniffs, aka flicking his tongue. Testing out the new territory causes you to shiver a bit as you feel the air moving about you in such an area. 

He moved closer to it until his tongue flicked up your folds. You let out a sigh at the feeling and wiggle back into his face. Pressing yourself against him,  which he doesn't seem to mind. 

He whimpers softly into your dripping folds, not quite sure what to do next. He tries to move his tongue around experimentally, tasting you for the first time. It tastes sweet and salty, so different from anything else he's ever tried before.

He switches from being face deep in your pussy to licking up your juices. To push his tongue deep into your entrance and thrust his tongue into you, causing hushed moans to escape your lips.

  He moans back into your wet slit, savoring the sound and sensation of your pleasure. He laps up your juices greedily, letting his tongue swirl around your clit. His free hand reaches between your legs, spreading them open even wider and giving him better access to your dripping sex. 

Your eyes were on the cocks, which were twitching your immediate attention. You lean down to grab them, feeling like you should pay him back with how good his mouth feels. You put one in your mouth and stroke the other. Your fingers squeezed and twisted one cock, traveling up and down the length, spreading precum all over as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked on the other.

His precum didn’t exactly taste how you expected it to, but that wasn't exactly a bad thing. It was much more viscous in texture and had sort of a savory flavor.

You switched between the two cocks, swashing them in your mouth the best you could.  He started rocking into her face as he was eating you out. You caress his scales; that's your switch between his thrusting cocks. You feel like if you let him continue this interaction, you're gonna cum, and not have any energy to continue, and you want more. 

“Wait, wait, wait.”  You tap his scales, and he pulls away so that he can listen to what you are going to say. 

“I want to feel these inside of me.” 

Ornanger lets go of your legs, and you move to bend down.  Once you are in the right position, he grips your hips with one hand and starts to push his cock into you.  You let out a wince as you feel one going into your ass while the other is in your pussy. You do your best not to tense up so he can move more easily.

He watches you fidget and writhe against him as his thick cocks pressed against your tight holes. Ornanger wrapped his strong arms around your waist, holding you close to his muscular body. He began thrusting rhythmically, the tip of his tail coiling possessively around your legs to prevent any escape. With each thrust, your bodies collided, creating wet slapping sounds that echoed through the jungle.

He basically purrs contentedly as he feels himself sinking deeper into you, his slick cocks pushing past your entrances until they are buried deep inside you. He could feel your body tremble a little beneath him as he did so, and he couldn't help but enjoy the sight. It seemed like you were enjoying this as much as he was. He felt like he was filling you up so intently from being in both holes, feeling like they were pressed right against each other in different canals.

Ornanger slowly rocked into you; the slickness of his cocks sliding into you was such a strange feeling. They were touching you so deeply. Snaking in and out. You couldn’t help but whimper at the dual stimulation. There wasn’t a single place he wasn’t touching inside you. The stretch was magnificent. With every thrust, Ornanjer was pressing against your sweet spots, and then as he dragged his cocks out, they left you with such a feeling of euphoria just for the actions to repeat over and over again.

Your stomach was winding itself up in a tight coil. You wrapped your legs around Ornanjer’s waist, pulling him closer to your body. Compared to your hot ass body, his body had a nice low warmth to it. You could feel the sweat rolling down your body. Luckily, this wasn’t the first time ornanger had seen you sweat, so it didn’t interrupt your sexy time.

He pulls back, and you're pulling forward at the last second, causing him to shoot his monster load onto your backside and over your folds. He lets out a hiss, and you shiver a bit in the aftermath. 

“Must cum inside, mate,” He muttered, and you looked back to see he was still hard. Your eyes widened as you realized you triggered Ornanger’s need for procreation, with you being his target.  Guess the only way out of this is to satisfy him. You could feel yourself getting close. Your legs were tensing up, and your back was arching off the ground. 

“A-ah~ I’m gonna cum,” you cried out

Ornanjer groaned as he came inside you. Ropes of cum spurting into you. You moaned, feeling your holes were filled to the brim with that sweet, sticky fluid. At the same time, you also reached climax; your walls spasmed around Ornanjer, milking every last drop out of him.

“So, I don’t think I took in all the knowledge that I needed. Do you mind if we go again?”

[seeingivy]

you belong with me

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama

an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS

--

You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater. 

What do you hate today? Being class president. 

You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back. 

“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.” 

“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.” 

“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.” 

“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”

“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.” 

“Toji, I’m not even mad about-” 

You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.

You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it. 

“Come in, bunny.” 

“Loud and clear, Toru.” 

He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.” 

“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.” 

You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin. 

“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.” 

“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?” 

“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.” 

He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating. 

Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all). 

He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses. 

But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by. 

No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window. 

To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you. 

And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention. 

I love you.

--

Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started. 

Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place. 

“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?” 

“We’re not best friends.” 

“Sure we are!” 

You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you. 

“Are you still fighting with that dog?” 

“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.” 

“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?” 

“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.” 

Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months. 

“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.” 

“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me, Kento?” 

“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.” 

You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.

“As if.”

Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him. 

“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds. 

Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.  

“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.

“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you. 

Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh. 

You get it. He doesn’t want you there.

“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.

“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters, 

“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you. 

“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?” 

“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks. 

“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?” 

You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life. 

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head. 

“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head. 

“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab. 

“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.” 

And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more. 

“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.” 

--

Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more. 

He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-

“Need a ride?” 

You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you. 

“Thanks.” 

He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot. 

“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair. 

You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession. 

“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?” 

He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.

“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.” 

“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass. 

“But why?” 

And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all. 

“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?” 

“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.” 

“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.” 

“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.” 

“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.” 

You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose. 

He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter. 

You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over. 

“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin. 

You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop. 

Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope. 

On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things. 

Jamoca and Satoru. 

When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place. 

Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking. 

“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?” 

“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.” 

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?” 

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.” 

You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees. 

“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.” 

Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him. 

He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead. 

“Ouch, asshole.” 

“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.” 

And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go. 

He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways. 

--

After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab. 

And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently. 

You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates. 

“You’re Haibara, right?” 

“You know who I am?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.” 

“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you. 

“Are too.” 

You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh. 

“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.” 

You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why. 

Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden. 

Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue. 

“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.” 

“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.” 

“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.” 

You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.” 

“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.” 

“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.” 

“Prove it.” 

You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen. 

And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh. 

And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points. 

“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.” 

“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.” 

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?” 

“Every night, sweetheart.” 

You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle. 

After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking. 

“You okay?” 

“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.” 

“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-” 

He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace. 

And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders. 

Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes. 

Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” 

You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field. 

“Take you home?” 

“Thanks, Toru.” 

“You want Jamoca?” 

“Not today.” 

He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates. 

At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” 

“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-” 

“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.” 

Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him. 

“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.” 

“I know. That’s true.” 

“But?” 

“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.” 

Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish. 

He can’t be selfish with you. 

“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just do it.” 

“Okay.” 

He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.

“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.” 

“What are you going on ab-” 

“Just do it.” 

You sigh, before thinking hard about his question. 

“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.” 

After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face. 

“Bunny?” 

“Toru?” 

“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?” 

You slump back into your chair, sinking down. 

“No.” you murmur. 

“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-” 

“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.” 

“Get out of the car.” 

You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store. 

--

You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his. 

“Hi bunny. You look nice.” 

“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?” 

To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you. 

“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.” 

“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.” 

“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.” 

You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you. 

When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind. 

The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say. 

I love you.

And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance. 

--

Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes. 

Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. 

Be fucking selfish. 

Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time. 

He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion. 

“Nanami.” 

“Please, for the love of god, not tod-” 

“Go hand this to Y/N.” 

Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time. 

Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko. 

“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”

“You would be shocked, Y/N.” 

“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.

She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over. 

“Did you break into my house, Shoko?” 

“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.” 

They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.

And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming. 

Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first. 

“Can we talk, Y/N?” 

"No."

You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt. 

He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first. 

“Come in, bunny?” 

“Loud and clear, Toru.” 

“I love you.” 

You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand. 

“I love you.” 

“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”

You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips. 

“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.” 

He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez  @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome  @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters  @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

[sfehvn]

new religion part 2

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Description: AU- Things have gone too far between you and Astarion and he's not sure he'd ever be able to give you what you truly want. Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 1,804 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

  Luxurious fur blessed your fingertips, stroking absently at the feline across your lap. You hummed a sweet tune as you continued your project. Astarion had the finest oil paints in Faerûn imported to nourish your new hobby. Looking at the canvas, well, it was very much a mess of colors. So much so that he would not have been able to make out what the picture was intended to be if he had not known. He would praise you all the same regardless. As a token of thanks, you had requested he sit for you in the garden while you paint him. 

  “You will be the first to have an original Tav piece. You can show it off when I’m a famous painter.” You joked as he assisted with setting up the easel.

  The kitten that purred against your touch was also a gift. One comment was made about how you had always wanted a cat but never had the room for one; it was just another opportunity to shower you with all of the gifts you had so deserved. The joy on your face when he presented you with the tiny feline made his heart swoon. Astarion would admit he had yet to think that offering through, though. When you were not present, which was most of the time, he had to care for the wretched little thing. His feigned attitude towards the kitten, which you had so ominously named Georgie, was a facade. He had grown to find comfort in the furball curling up to him in bed in your absence. He even caught himself cooing to the blasted little creature on occasion.

  Astarion sat in the wrought iron chair across from you, a forgotten book propped open on his forearm as he admired the tenacity on your face, tongue jutting ever-so-slightly from between succulent lips as you struggled to work with the paints. How could you be so blissfully oblivious to the beauty you are? He wondered, his head resting in the palm of his unoccupied hand. He had a burning fire in his chest, demanding he show you not only your beauty but that you deserved much more than the small cottage you shared with seven other occupants. Your rightful position was right next to him in his palace. You deserved to have everybody else waiting at your beck and call, not the other way around. You insisted you could not leave your family, nevertheless.

-

  “Stay here with me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while, my pet.” The two of you lay bare, entangled in silk sheets and each other’s arms. Astarion stroked the delicate pink skin of your cheek with the careful tips of his fingers, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His words caused you to let out an amused giggle at his bequest. His eyebrows knitted together, and a slight frown played at the edges of his lips. He was serious.

  Your smile dropped, and an apologetic look graced your features. “Oh, Astarion.” You sighed wistfully. “I just can’t. Not right now. Papa’s not doing well; I can’t just abandon him. Lillian needs a lot of guidance at this time, and with Alan having just moved into his own home now that he’s married, there’s no one to take care of our younger sisters.” You sputtered out. Astarion noted the stress that marred your face and decided to drop the matter for now.

  “Sh, my treasure.” He coaxed, pulling your head into his chest. “We can address it later.”

-

  Astarion pondered on when he had gone so soft, for lack of better words. Before you, there was no hesitation to steal what he wanted. Much easier it would have been to just bite you, keeping you to himself for all of eternity. He had thought about it when the disdain of being apart grew too great. This was after you, though. You had brought a bright light into his world of darkness, and he knew you would never be the same if he made such a decision on your behalf. 

  Guilt regularly gnawed at a conscious he wasn’t even aware he’d had. He still hadn’t found the courage to tell you of his true nature. You often called the raised tissue on his neck his vampire bite, and he’d always panic at the joke, wondering if he’d been found out. Inwardly, of course, he ensured he remained calm and collected on appearance. Soon, he told himself. He’d let you enjoy the normalcy of your current relationship for just a while longer.

  Your groan fractured him from his thoughts. “Okay, it’s actually terrible. Please don’t laugh at me.” You pouted. 

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” Astarion assured, setting his book down on the table before him, pushing back his chair, and standing up. He bent down to get a better look at the canvas. “My, that’s a beautifully eclectic rendition of yours truly.” He hums, resting his hands on your shoulders, squeezing in encouragement. He meant it. It was something you had created; of course he would love it.

  “Okay, you are officially the biggest liar I know.” You grinned, patting his hand softly as he shifted away. Georgie stretched in your lap. You placed him down, smiling as he hurried away into the open door of the manor.

  “Your words wound me.” He holds his hands to his chest dramatically. “I’ll display it in the foyer.” His finger reaches to tap the tip of your nose playfully.

  “I guess it must truly be Astarion approved then.” You hummed, recalling how tumultuous he had acted when replacing the art in his foyer. It must be perfect, he had said; first impressions are everything, my dear. “I don’t think your guests would be in agreeance with you.” At this point, you had stood on your tip-toes, planting a sweet kiss on his lips.

  He dismissed your presumption with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense, my love. You question my tastes? When I’ve got you on my arm? I’ve already won.” His index finger taps the underside of your chin, encouraging your mouth to his. You oblige, and Astarion lets out a delighted laugh against your lips. He would never grow tired of how easily you unraveled for him and him only. Without breaking contact, he reaches down to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you from the ground and setting you on the garden table.

  Your breathing hitched as his hands wrought at the bottom of your dress, pushing the hem up until it pooled around your waist. His fingers brushed your mound over already-soaked underwear. He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “So ready for me already, pet? I’ve barely touched you.” Spoken like a purr, causing goosebumps to bloom over your skin. He buried his nose into your neck and breathed your scent in deeply. Chamomile and lavender had become distinctively you. His eyes close as your fingers tread over his scalp, hooking into his hair. “Keep touching me like that, treasure. I’ll fuck you right here.” 

  “Please. It’s been too long.” You murmur. It had indeed, he thought. This was your first day together after being apart for ten long, agonizing days. His fingers push your underwear to the side, the tips hardly swiping over your drenched core. The contact motivated your body further against him. Your breasts pressed to his firm chest, and he brought his unoccupied hand to sit atop them, thumb stroking delicious skin.

  Greedy hands moved to the front of his trousers and at the feeling of his bulge, you ached to feel him inside of you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and tenderly pushed your hands away. Your expression was one of rejection that panged Astarion’s undead heart, but his demeanor was one of significance. He took your hands in his as he stared deeply into your eyes. “Stay with me, Tav. The manor has never been this airy without you. I mean- I understand you have responsibilities you believe are your own, but I could give you everything.”

  With a furrowed brow, you sluggishly pull away from him. “These responsibilities are my own. This is my family, Astarion.” You pursed your lips, looking everywhere but at the man before you.

  “Pet, don’t be silly. They are holding you back. I recognize you love them, but you cannot put your needs on hold to protect them forever.” He reaches out to brush the hair from your face, but you quickly dodge the touch, pressing him aside so you can stand from your position on the table. His jaw clenches in annoyance, but he allows you your space.

  “So, what? My father will be buried beside my mother soon, and you are so selfish that you can’t even give me the grace to spend his last days with him.” He had never seen the fire on your face; your usual demeanor dissolved.

  Astarion’s jaw slackens, and he shakes his head in response. “I’m just thinking big picture. Where will your sisters go when the time comes, Tav? Are you to give your entire life to them? How is it fair to you?”

  “If that is what must be done, then so be it.” Astarion noted how heavy your chest heaved, your body shaking from anger. You were angry with him.

  “And what of me?” He was mindful of how needy and, as you said, selfish he sounded but couldn’t hold back. “What do you want with me if not forever?” Indeed, you couldn’t expect him to house the entire cavalry that was your family.

  You froze and gulped in a large breath to calm your nerves. Maybe you have been negligent of his feelings as things grew more serious between you two. “I want you, Astarion. I want everything with you. I want to take your last name. I want to bear your children. I want to care for you until we’re both old and gray.” There’s a crack in your voice as you stifle back tears. Astarion’s stare softens, his stomach plunging at the knowledge of only ever being able to gift you one of those things. “I’ve always dreamt of creating a family of my own. Of being a mother to children created with the man I love.” You pause to swipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “But I can’t leave my sisters to fend for themselves. I won’t.” 

  Astarion observes you as you collect your shawl, exiting the garden without another word. He’d let things go too far. He’d led you to believe this future you dreamed of could be achieved with him and even encouraged the delusions in his own way. Perhaps you would be better off if this relationship came to a close.

[thatonetargaryen]

The Wolf and the Dragon

Masterlist

Part 4: Dinner

Valaena entered her chambers, taking in the room. It was smaller than her own back home, but it would do for now. Red, black, and gold adorned every surface—Noxus colors. This was yet another reminder that her home was now a distant memory.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she set her stuff down. She lifted the curtains, and was met with the beautiful view of the city. Even from such a distance, she could she the people and shows—the colors and food vendors—everything was different. If she wasn’t who she was, Noxus would’ve been the first place to visit on her bucket list.

The room to her chambers doors were open-and in waltzed a blonde, heavy-set woman who was wearing a gold and red dress—traditional Noxian attire. She kept her head bowed and eyes low in respect. Valaena admired her physique, it seemed as if everyone in Noxus was jacked.

“Princess Valaena, I am to be your maid for the time you are residing here. I am at your beck and call. Whatever you need, any questions, and I will try my best to fulfill them.”

Valaena nodded at her words. “How generous of them…”, she said more so to herself sarcastically—knowing the woman was probably assigned to keep a close eye on her. She turned back to the maid.

“And may I have your name?”

“Anya, Princess.”

The princess nodded, noting her name in her mind. “Anya, do you mind running me a bath. I am in desperate need of one, as you can see.”

She nodded. “Right away, princess.”

Valaena was once again left alone, leaving her to swim in her own thoughts.

….

The next few days were pleasant for the princess. She hadn’t spoken to Ambessa since their first meeting, and Anya seemed to pop up out of nowhere and disappear in the night. Though, Valaena didn’t pay it much attention.

So far, her plan was smooth sailing. No word from the King has arrived, which was suspicious in itself.

Valaena thought about it often. How her father didn’t seem to care for her, how he had sent no word of her absence, as if the thorn in his side was finally gone. She tried not to dwell on it too much, but that was becoming harder to do each day.

The beautiful Noxian castle and flourishing gardens distracted her from those things. The guards kept a close eye on her, but let her be as long as she wasn’t causing trouble. The nobles threw her nasty looks, most deeming her untrustworthy.

She didn’t bother to ask where Ambessa was, or why they had yet to speak on this supposed ‘alliance’. It seemed she just had more important things to attend to. Hopefully she would leave her be for just a while longer—until Valaena came up with a plan to escape. She couldn’t stay here forever.

So when she was summoned to dinner with the General, hesitation and surprise was evident in her features.

“Summoned me to dinner?”, Valaena repeated what Anya had said. No council meeting, no hearings before the court, but a dinner.

“Yes, princess. It is about time we started getting ready. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go in…that.”, Anya gestured to the simple tunic and trousers she wore.

Valaena ignored the comment and ran in fingers through her silver hair, obviously stressed. She mentally slapped herself for telling such a deep lie. Now, she had to defend her house and successfully form an alliance. Great.

“I’ll find you a dress to wear for this evening.”

Valaena cursed to herself. She was in deep, deep shit.

….

The baby pink and white flowy dress Valaena wore complimented her pale hair and skin. She left her hair to fall down her back, and jewelry adorned the top half of her body. She felt like a lamb being led to slaughter. But she was no lamb, she was a dragon, a nervous, scared, and mendacious one.

She approached the doors to the chambers she was summoned to. A guard stopped her. “State your business.”

“I was summoned to these chambers by the General for dinner.”

Without another word, he opened the doors, leading Valaena to her fate. Inside, was a large table with off-white and gold—hints of silver here and there. The room itself wasn’t large, but lavish, and everything seemed to fit in place. At the head of the table sat none other than Ambessa Medarda, dressed comfortably in a crimson and gold robe. A ring adorned her lower lip, and her dark hair was styled into a low bun. Valaena’s cheeks warmed at the sight of her effortless beauty, but quickly buried those thoughts as she bowed her head. “What do I owe this pleasure, My Lady?”

Ambessa turned towards the girl and leaned her head to the side with a slight smile, “Ah, I’d thought you’d never come. Take a seat, please.” Her offer sounded more like an order.

She took a seat at the other end of the table. A silent prayer was said, and she examined the dishes that were laid out.

At the center was a golden brown turkey, surrounded and stuffed with fruits and vegetables. Mashed potatoes, buttered bread, beef stew, apple pie, banana pudding, steamed vegetables…it all seemed too much for just two people. Valaena’s mouth watered, and she tried her best not to look greedy as she stuffed her plate.

The first thing she tried was the main dish, roasted turkey. The meat was moist and juicy, with the skin being flavorful and crispy. It was nothing compared to the unseasoned food of King’s Landing. The mashed potatoes were a whole other thing, having no lumps and melting on her tongue. The bread, oh the bread, was soft and—

“Hungry, are we?”

The question nearly gave Valaena a heart attack as she stopped eating. Ambessa simply grinned.

“I’ll be sure to give my compliments to the chef.”, she chuckled.

The princess straightened and cleared her throat, now being aware of how foolish she looked.

“I’m sure you didn’t request my presence to discuss how good the food is, My Lady.”

Ambessa’s amused expression faltered. “No, I didn’t. I called you here because I want to know your real intentions.”

Valaena stared, taken aback.

Ambessa continued, “We both know that I am not dumb. In fact, I am the complete opposite. I have already voiced my reasons for suspicion, but let me refresh your memory. You come here atop a dragon—careless as to who will see you. You speak of an alliance, yet you bring no offerings, unless you yourself are one, which, judging by your…demeanor, you aren’t. What I find suspicious of all is the fact that no word has been sent from the King over such a serious matter. So tell me, princess, are you simply taking refuge in my castle? And why Noxus of all places?”

Valaena was at a loss for words. This woman had just read her like an open book, as if she were telling the weather. Ambessa sat back in her chair with her arms crossed, no longer amused. She wanted answers, and she wanted ones now. And that’s exactly what the princess gave her.

“Yes,I-I didn’t come here seeking an alliance.”, she spoke just above a whisper.

“Obviously.”

“I originally left King’s Landing seeking shelter elsewhere after my father—the King—told me of his plans to give me off to a suitor in Piltover. There was so much pressure on me to marry, and he caved in like the coward he was. I had already lost all those I had loved, I had no real reason to stay. Not ever since my mother—”

Valaena choked back tears and her fists gripped her skirts. She hated how weak she looked—how inferior she felt. She roughly wiped her face, making her cheeks puffy and red.

Ambessa bit the inside of her cheek, and for the first time, in a long time, she felt something that couldn’t be put into words, but had forced itself down within herself. She empathized with the girl, knowing what it felt like to be given away as such a young age. She sighed, collecting herself and putting on that hard facade once more. “And you thought it safe to find refuge in Noxus?”

Valaena shook her head and allowed herself a small smile, which Ambessa admired from across the table.

“I hadn’t realized I landed in Noxus until your guards were chasing after me. I entered through the outskirts of the city, and sent away my dragon for a time.”

Ambessa pinched her nose, silently reminding herself to place more guards on the outskirts of the village to avoid instances like this.

Valaena licked her dry lips and sniffed, “What do you wish to do with me now, General?”

Ambessa contemplated. While the princess little benefit staying in Noxus, she wasn’t causing much disturbance. And her father hadn’t sent out word of her disappearance, seemingly being content with it. It had been almost two weeks since she left home. She gazed into Valaena’s lilac eyes, pleading with her not to be sent back. And with just one look, the General folded.

“I will not send you away, princess. You may keep your chambers in my castle. I expect no issues from you. Act as if you are not there.”

Valaena sighed in relief and surprise, a smile grazing her face.

Ambessa took a mental picture of the sight, one she would think about for endless nights to come.

[bohemian-nights]

An Offer From A Rogue

Word Count: ~9,448

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Warnings⚠️: 18+; incest, smut, choking, a little bit of soft dom!Daemon; p in v penetration; a tiny dash of degradation; fingering against a wall

Description: Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not in that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame.

AN: Based on this request by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored. So sorry it’s late🙏🏽

The sound of dancing and a lively tune could be heard streaming in from just beyond the wrought iron door, but that had long been put out from her mind.                                            

Another tune entirely played reached her. It took her a great deal more effort than it perhaps should have to realize that the sound came from her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

A whine which she felt clawing its way out from the back of her throat and breaking out into the quiet of her chambers. Desperate and greedy thing it was. Not in the least bit ladylike, but she supposed this was most assuredly unladylike and he was encouraging her with his murmurs of let me hear you sweet one and let go for me sweetling I have you.                                                                        

He did have her. Brown legs wrapped around his middle. She clung to him like a vine, splayed against the backdrop of her chamber, though she was mostly being held up by his strength. Hers having long since departed from her already spent form. 

The rest of her senses fared little better. Her ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton, all she could taste was the salt of his skin mixed with an unearthly of smoke and dragon at his nape, and her voice had gone a while ago, but she had gathered that it hadn’t really mattered. Who needed oxygen when they had this? His breath breathed life into her better than undiluted  air ever could.

Who needed to speak when one could moan out her pleasure no. It did not matter. 

Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not at that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame. To pure heat and want. She could never describe that. What she felt. What was before. What was after. If there even was an after.

What was apart from this chamber, it truly did not matter. 

That world that she had ventured from so distant. So foreign. So immaterial. It was no more real than the creatures in old fisher wives tales told to scare naughty children who crept from their beds in the dead of night. 

Everything else had faded and turned to gray. There was just him and her in vibrant color and even then she had a hard time distinguishing between the shades that made up him and the ones that made her. 

The guests feasting below let out another round of shouts and cheers. Their stomping faintly registered in the back of her mind overcoming the haze for a brief moment.

They were getting quite loud. Quite merry. Quite drunk.

Twas probably for the best. She was being quite loud herself. With each mewl and breathless moan that broke free of her body increasing in duration and volume. Unrestrained as they serenaded a most captive audience. 

An audience that drew out a whine lodged in the back of her throat to pass through kiss swollen lips. The cause of which was no more than a mere swipe of ardent tongue upon her décolleté and the deft brush of fingers upon her all too sensitive nub sat atop her womanhood. Over and over again as she yielded to her pleasure. 

“That’s it sweet one,” he hummed. Voice thick and with something she could not quite name, but it was something which she felt too. Something that sparked another gasp for the air which he had taken from with another murmur and lap of the wet muscle at her neck. “That’s it.”  

She would have tried to stifle that moan if she had her bearings, if she had any sense or care for her name, but all manner of proprietary and good breeding had flown from her and floated down into the world of gray. Thankfully forgotten for if that gray had collided with her world of color, staining them with the red welts, yelps, and slick of their passion to which she would never forget the shame of it. 

She should have shame. She would have had shame at her own visage if she had any left. If she could gaze down at herself or look into the mirror she kept on the opposite wall of her chamber near her vanity and behind the changing screen which hid her bath, not that she needed to.  

Slacked-jawed, flushed, and incapable of any intelligible speech. She made a lovely sight. By the way in which the brute of a man before stood leering over her, the way his tongue lapped at her, tasting her, marking her as his, she knew she made a lovely sight, but she could not be more indecent.

Body given away to the haze of euphoria that enwrapped her courtesy of a pair of strong arms that kept her firmly pressed against a most willing figure complete with calloused fingers embedded deeply inside her reaching her in places where she had not know existed, but where nonetheless needed him most, and a set of thin, but determined lips upon every bit of exposed brown skin they could reach. 

She could hear the squelching sound that his fingers made as they rocked them in and out of her warmth. Clenching around them whenever he grazed over that place within her that had her seeing the stars of the night sky reflected on the back of her eyelids. Good girl he chanted when she gave into him. Gushing down on his arm with her slick. 

She could feel her curls glued to the wall by his exertions. See the wet trail she had left upon his robes and the deep purple bruises forming over skin on the tops of her ample breasts. Bruises that she’d have to explain away to one of her maids when they came to attend to her in the morn.

I tripped over my skirts and only managed to catch myself upon the railing would do or mayhaps a simple my stays were too tight would suffice. Would they believe her? Mayhaps they would. 

She would have to throw away the horrid garment on the second account. It would be replaced by some other God's awful contraption of death before she could forget the feel of it constricting her, and on the first—well she was a rather clumsy adventurer it had always been easy enough for her to bruise. 

A fall upon her knees would leave her looking as if she were a peasant girl who had been milking cows upon her knees and climbing up trees or traversing through the thistle field where Vermiothor liked to roam would leave her arms raw and red with her own lifeblood.  

But the days of childhood clumsiness had long since passed her and while she might fool a pack of serving girls who were scarcely older than she, she would most certainly not fool her Septa. 

No she wouldn't be so naive. 

She would see what had happened. What he had done to her. What she in truth had let him do to her even if she could not believe it so.

Her septa, a woman not quite old enough to be her grandmother, but a fair deal older than her mother had been, would have been alert that oher whines and whimpers. She was good natured, if not a little strict. She was a sweet woman above all. Wise. Dependable. 

Though unmarried at two and twenty she was getting rather old to need her septa as she did, but truthfully, she did not know what she would do without her. She was all she had known. The only maternal figure which she had and her septa seemed to love he in all the ways that she had seen a mother love their daughter

She could not recall her mothers laugh, the feel of her hands stroking her hair as she brushed and braided her riot of coils, and most importantly,  well important to her, her face which she had been told more times than she had inherited. 

She supposed she must have inherited it. She knew she had not inherited much of her fathers Valyrian countenance, the details of which she could not quite recall either. 

Though in that moment she supposed she could not quite recall anyone’s face apart from the man who had buried his head silver into her neck among other things laying heavy kisses into her flushed skin as she absentmindedly stroked down the planes and contours of his person that she knew better than her own image. better than she should have known. 

She was not the first to do so. The first to touch him as he had her, but she knew a part of him. Knew what he sounded like when he tried to contain his own grunts of pleasure, murmuring into her skin with pet names which she would not go without. 

“My sweet one,” he whispered as she drank up the praise. She knew what those saccharine groans tasted like upon her tongue. The sweetness. 

Knew what it felt like to feel his length pressing against her. rubbing upon her thighs, her womanhood. hard and wanting. She knew him like this and she enjoyed the knowledge more than she should. Letting it wash over her. Engulfing her with every grunt and groan intended or not that slipped from his lips. 

Daemon had been rough with his affections and she had not minded it. She liked it. She had not known she would, not knowing what had lied dormant within her, waiting to be awakened, but no that it had, she was wanton. She was utterly wanton. Every bit debauched. A creature which needed to be fed lest she wilt away to nothing. 

She had heard about girls like this. Her septa had warned her about girls like her. 

Wayward. Fallen. Ruined whatever one wanted to call it, innocence had been corrupted.    

Tainted with sin and damned for it. Their great shame and what a shame it was. 

She would have died from the shame of it if the older woman were to somehow apparate configured from her rapture before her very eyes. 

Or would she? 

She was desperate. Starved. Not caring on but propriety or for the gentle breeding of a lady which had been drilled into her skull since before she could even write her own name.

But now—now the only name which she knew was his. What a name it was. What it stirred within her. Who could have known that a single word could leave her so wanting.

“Daemon,” she moaned when he had nuzzled at a particularly sensitive patch of skin underneath her ear. Trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. It was not as pleasant as what his fingers could stir from a few fervid rolls of the little pearl he had found at the apex of her mound when he he tweaked her to stiff , or the push of those digits in and out of her heat at the languid pace which he had set, but it was bliss nonetheless. A bliss she was happy to chase. 

Pulling the man as close as their still clothed bodies would allow her to as she wound her fingers through silver strands slicked by lust. Feeding her hunger. 

This, this is why they kept girls away from the truth of what went on between men and women in prowling hours of the wolf in the comfort of their chambers with fears of proprietary and damnation. 

Shrouding it with mystery and hushed chastisements that it was for the marriage bed and if that should be broken it one would risk body and soul as well as social ostracism to silence the more curious sort for if they knew the truth of what pleasure lied, of what lay within them, they should not forgo it. They should grow to want as she had grown to want and wanted and wanted. He had made her want. 

A gale, no, a raging thunderstorm had been awakened within her that she could not put out by her own hands. No matter what she had tried and tried and tried to her great frustration. 

Repeating those same ministrations that he had, the tips of drumming circles into her bundle of nerves, his rhythm steady. Long fingers pistoled in and out of her heat trying to reach that spongy spot he had found within her that had her mewling like one of the feral cats that roamed around the castle, but it was no good. 

Everything was wrong. So very wrong. The pads of her fingers had been too delicate in their movements. Her slender digits had not filled her in the way he had. Had not quite stretched her to find that spot and what they could reach had certainly not elicit that same intensity he had ignited. They had not the callouses which did not catch upon her clit no matter what way she had positioned them. And yet she tried. 

Tried chasing her high that he had taken from her for the better part of the hours between dusk and dawn.

She was in a frenzy of want. Of heat. Of fire, trying to stoke that burning fire until it burst before her into molten magma and still it eluded her. He eluded her and with him that delightful bliss he had set into motion by his strong hand. 

She was made to give up the feverish coxcomb of self pleasure all too soon. Forced herself to for she was gaining nothing from it except anguish.

Laying there in a empty bed, in the dead of night with soaked fingers, a sore cunny overflowing with her slick, a brown face marred with tears, and pride in her throat caught with a scream upon her tongue that she did not dare let it out lest her Septa find her in her ruin or that insufferable man howl with his own pride at having left her in such a state of unabashed avarice. 

Her mother had been in this exact position. Or something similar to it. 

It was how she came about. What bastards grew up with the knowledge of. Still while she may be a bastard she was the bastard sister to a king. Had grown up with his children, under his eye, and that acknowledge meant things were expected of her.

If her Septa happened to walk in this moment, if anyone happened to walk in, and see that she was no better than a common whore, no better than her mother she’d be ruined. Absolutely ruined

the blood of the dragon gone to waste. Common blood won out, unless the man who was doing his best to ruin her for all other men saved her. Unless Daemon asked for her hand and restored her honor. 

Would he do so? Would he save her or at least her virtue? Ask her to be his wife. Be the mother of his children? Would give up his life for her? Would he forsake all others, have her pass through his life at his side, and sully his blood with hers . Would he do that for her? 

She was not quite sure what he would do. After All he had pulled her into his depths and converted her to this nymph. Drawn her away from her, but did she care?

Marriage certainly did not have any bearing in this. Seven help her, thinking in its entirety had lost its place here with him.    

There was only divinity itself. She felt divine. Absolutely divine there with him. As if she had tasted the heavens and had touched the face of the Maiden herself. Gods oh Gods.

Did he find another? Had he been with her or was his hand enough? Was a rough hand scared by battle adequate replacement to her tight warmth or had he taken his pleasure in a whores cunt instead?

Was that why he left her or had he like her gone without satisfaction in its entirety? It seemed now when she had him worshiping her when his mouth was  and nipping at her commanding her to let go to give into him and he’d be there to catch her as she tumbled into her ecstasy so silly to wonder where he had been, but now was not then. 

Then he had left her to want. Left her to cry like a child and beg for him to return to her and make him put out that fire which he had so brought her to life. Make her feel alive for the first time in her short muted life. She’d never live down the shame of it. 

She had hardly gotten more than a few dreary hours of sleep because of him. Plagued by dreams of him and those fingers that held magic in their tips. In his tongue that left In the length of him. 

Him. All him. He consumed her. Burned her. 

It was all the cause of that man who was trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck rough yet surprisingly nimble fingers caressing her in a place in a way that she was left in this sorrowful state, but nonetheless, only he seemed to know that she had been driven mad with passion and lorded it over her. She had found utter bliss and lost it in a few hours and had been left wanting in its absence. In his absence.  

Oh he had known what he was doing. What he had been doing for a good fortnight.

He had rarely let her side since he had arrived back from his latest excursion away to some distant land he would take her to. You ought to see more of the world than this place. He had told her. Arms linked and his head bent to hers as they took a turn about the Red Keeps gardens. Taking great pains to detail the full exoticism that his travels afforded him. Which could be afforded to her.

Her septa had not liked that. Muttering to herself with discontent when they had arrived back to her chambers, but there was not much she could do. For Daemon commanded her company to make up for his absence in that time between and who was she to deny a prince? 

How could she deny him when she insisted  that she be seated besides him at each feast. Asking for her favor at every tourney. Every dance was reserved for him lest she find the lord who dared to take her away from him for a mere round needing to be carried off his mount at said tourneys the next mourn. 

Daemon drew her in with whispers into her lips curl into a smile and a heavy hand upon her covered knee that sent a shiver through her for want of more than mere warmth. 

“Let them stare sweet one,” he had told her with a grin she did not wish to escape from. Wandering fingers inching up the silk which she had painfully stitched together by her own hand. It had taken her the better part of a moon to make the gown, but when she had shown it to her septa she could not have been prouder.

It was a ruin now much the same as her. 

The bodice ripped in two courtesy of the man in her grasps lust ridden possession to free her breasts from their restraints. 

He had been restrained up until that point, but that restraint had severed when she had begun to quake and drool around him. Needing to suckle upon her breast seemingly as much as she needed him within her. Taking the erect bud between his lips and to lavish them with his tongue as he had done so with her neck. Not caring that he had soiled the garment with his salvations and his essence. 

She did not know entirely how the latter had even over, perhaps he had taken himself in hand while she was preoccupied with the feel of him inside her, any part of him inside her, surrounding her, but whatever may be the case it smelled of his musk. Almost overpowering her smell with that smoky scent of warm salt air, dornish red, dragonhide, and open sky. 

She had hid it as best as tucked away under a loose bit of stone under her bed. She hadn't a choice on that matter. 

How was she to explain away that when they saw the state of it? What would they ask her? What would she say? She could feel the words catching in her throat beneath her high. Would anyone say anything?      

No one had said a thing when he had first laid eyes upon it. When he kept his gaze, his hands, his attentions a laugh at their guests  upon her. He kept her person firmly affixed to his side. Eyes darkened under his adore and the dim glow of the candlelight. It was quite hard to tell if his eyes had darkened, but they had lost their violet hue. 

They had gawked at them of course, received a few raised brows, but a brother, even a Targaryen brother, paying compliments to his dearest sister, his only sister, was not so very wrong. And from their eyes such affection did not resemble those of lovers. 

Her brown skin covered her blushes and the table covered his hand inching up her leg hiking  up her skirts or how her foot just so happened to be grazing whenever the wandering limb got particularly close to her cunt underneath such frills. Her own hand wished to touch him in the same way as she did. 

She was not completely naive. She had seen the hounds at it once. Twas a vicious affair consisting of a stubby appendage making rapid pumps in and out of a puckered hole that made her stomach churn and wish to expel her breakfast. It could hardly be comforting for his mate. 

One of the serving girls between fits of raucous laughter when her mistress had finally found the stomach and courage to do so told her it was how pups were made, but people were not dogs.  

Still the question and the answer to that circled back around her this sweltering fortnight.

How would it be with him? Would he be quick?  Would he be gentle? Would he take her from behind like a dog? He already had her pressed up against the wall twice now the ravenous mad dog he was. She knew that humans were different, but he had not even taken her to the bed as befitting her status. 

What would it be like if he had? What would it be like to have him hovering over her?  How would his flesh feel atop hers? How would his length feel like inside her? Would he let her touch him? Love him as he loved her?  Hand drifting to where a growing tent was ensconced under his robes? 

How would it be? 

He certainly had to be bigger than a dog. He felt bigger than what she imagined the hound did deep inside his mate. Would his length bring her pleasure in the way that his hands had? Blind her with it and turn her into some lust ridden beast. She felt like that. Then. Now. 

Oh, she was depraved, but he did not seem to mind her need when he had caught her staring at him with what she was sure was her need. Hands drifting.

“What's mine is yours sweet one,” the warmth of his breath fanned her nape as he spoke the words into her ear. Her cheeks warmed as he had taken her hovering hand in his bestowing a light kiss upon the supple brown flesh before he pulled away. His touch lingering where his lips could not. 

It looked more like lively banter, albeit laced with the affections from the depths of their kinship, than the makings of a passionate tryst. 

Even still she was not so green as to think that the eyes and ears of the Red Keep would not notice something if they kept on as they had. They were Targaryens after all and Targaryens were not so common as mere men in their desires and wants. 

She had not followed him when he had left the Great Hall last night well before dessert was brought in. Their brother huffed and eyed the top of the man’s pale head in the crowd of ravens and browns and gold with some measure of suspicion, but he did not command him to stay. 

Letting him leave without saying a word in protest. 

Daemon did as he pleased and there was no point in keeping him, especially when his behavior raised brows from their more stodgy guests and the ones connected by law than by blood. The ones who would not understand this. What they meant to each other or how natural it was even beneath the sin. 

After a time, which she had deemed appropriate where no one would guess what had been up to under the cover of that table where their hands had wandered and communicated what whispers and gazes could not in an overcrowded hall, she took her leave of the merriment.

Viserys did not seem to mind if she stayed either. Sending her off with a solitary flicks of his hand in the same direction that their brother had left.

She thought he was rather relieved to see her go. She could picture the small as her back turned to him. Feel his stare on the back of neck. He always seemed rather relieved to see her go. As did the rest of the hall save for her cousins. Her very existence raised brows and that was not limited to the ones who were supposed to love her best, the king included among them. 

True enough he cared for her. Their father had seen to that as had Daemon, but he was not brotherly, barely familial and though he was old enough to be her father he had never taken upon that role after Baelon had met his abrupt end. 

Too much like her mother she suspected. He had never been fond of the Naathni whore who had captured their fathers gaze. 

Then again Viserys did not seem very fond of anything apart from his daughter and the little prince she had birthed who looked no more Valyrian than she. His indifference to her was really less to do with her blood and more to do with his general indifference to all things Viserys was not so concerned with the purity of their family and her lack of it, but Daemon, Daemon who loved her, Daemon who had defiled her, Daemon he was  was another matter.   

Daemon had not been particularly brotherly either  with his comings and goings, but his indifference was a foreign concept to her. Her youngest brother had never hid his affections; his care for her even if those affections had turned into something more than it ought to be. Or something as it in truth should be. 

“You’re a Targaryen sweet girl as much as I am.” He would always say when she questioned why he was so affectionate with her without a breath spared. Whispering in her ear and sealing his words with a kiss to her temple or peppering her  face with sloppy kisses. Never mind the frowns and deep furrows they’d received for said affection. They wouldn’t understand.

Half was still a Targaryen. She was still a Targaryen no matter who her mother had been. That was the beginning and end of it or just the beginning. 

It was why they were here and why she was presently in a half state of undress stuffed with her brother's fingers, soaking his hand with her slick and his mouth upon her breasts. They were Targaryens and Targaryens did what they liked. Would have what they liked. Take what they like. Conqueror. 

As he had done with her. Twas in their blood. Her blood that was a siren call and he had answered. Like calling to like. Blood to blood. He had answered with his own call.  

Silly and naive as it was, she had thought he had actually gone to bed. That he had gotten bored of her of the game they played, but he most decidedly had not.

She had only managed to make it a quarter of the way to her chambers before a pale hand shot out from the dark and pulled her back into it. Pulling her into a hard chest while his mouth caught the scream she was sure to have let out if not for his tongue tangling with hers in the most lovely dance swiping across her lips to gain entrance circling the roof of her mouth upon hers she had given into him without much fight.

And now what little fight she had had vanquished along with the rate of rapidly deteriorating care for anything apart from the feel of him upon her. In her. around her. Him. She had not cared for anything else since last night. Just him. 

“Don't turn away from me, little one.” his hand had quickly enough found its way to up her skirts once more when his fingers finally pulled away from her lips. 

The pale Targaryen man wasting no time venturing them up her leg. Grazing the smooth embellished bronze skin of her thighs until he found her warmth waiting for him. Placing a toned thigh between her legs and spreading them apart.  Finding no resistance to stop him. To keep him from her. To keep this pleasure he wished to give her and she would take it all and thank him for it like a dog dying from thirst.

He could've commanded her to streak across that very dark, very quiet hall naked as the day she was and she would've gladly done so. She would've done anything with those digits working her through. A finger gliding across her glistening slit to collect her slick before bringing it up to tease her little button. Drawing crescents into the engorged nub as he grew moans and whimpers from her lips. Getting drunk off the noises. His breath upon her. 

She had been shamefully wet. She still had some shame in that regard when she had heard the sound of her wetness filling in that tiny enclave. The pool of slick he made which stained them both and reached something in her that had her tightening around him and arching back on to him. 

He found the places in herself she had never known and  had never dreamed of knowing. 

She had touched herself on occasion before. Feeble thing it was. Timid and unsure movements made when the castle had gone quiet and the only company she had were the moon's light, her slender hand, and her labored breaths. Each time no different than the last and neither was this attempt at self gratification. Not unpleasant, but it was not particularly eventful, nothing remarkable, nothing euphoric in it. 

She did not have those flutterings spreading from the pit of her core. Had never spasmed around her fingers. Wet them with her arousal. 

Only once had she ever attempted entering them within her channel and she had never tasted herself. She certainly had never lost herself in her fumblings. Not in this way. Never gone and she had been gone. She was gone. 

Every thought left from her body besides that cresting feeling overtaking her like a wave in the harbor and she a ship soaked through with love embrace. 

Gone enough to let him debase her there upon that wall where anyone might see them, see her like a common whore. Chanting his name like a possessed woman. 

Daemon. Daemon. Daemon.

Gone enough to let him kiss away her moans. To whisper sweet things into her dampened flesh. Things that made her cheeks flush with warmth and her stomach clench in pleasure. Bearing down upon his fingers as she clung to him.

She was gone, gone, gone. And then he was gone. 

“Patience is a virtue dear sister,” he had whispered onto her lips. 

Gifting her one last kiss upon the hot skin beneath the shell of her ear just as she felt herself cresting over that little hill of fire which he had built, halting her as he pulled the ground from out under her.    

He did not catch the gasp when he had pulled his fingers from her. A gush of her wetness went with him as he brought those digits to his lips to sample her excitement and left the rest to run down her thighs and stain that ruined silk that of course was then. A wink, and the inaudible groan he let out as he tasted were the last trendles of bliss he had afforded her, before he left her in that scorching void of need and agony, but that memory had been painted over with the vibrancy of desire. 

Now whatever had made him leave her, whatever lesson he had tried to impart upon her, whatever, whatever he had seared into her mind with his,  he had returned to her with great fury. 

Passion reignited as he had thrown open the doors to her chambers after she had tried to slip through them in search of him. His lips were upon hers with not a word spoken between them as he removed all traces of what he was to say to him. The only thing cushioning her head from hitting the wall which he had backed them into was his hands placed behind her that softened the blow. Then it did not matter. What her septa thought, what did not matter. There had only been now. 

Now she was not willing to let it slip through her fingers that were presently holding onto the pale man until she had her fill and more then. 

“Don't leave me,” she rasped with a whimper out into the shell of his ear. The last bit of consciousness before the fall. The words choked out with a gasp for breath over the sound of the squelches growing in their obscenity and his panting into her skin.  

it was pathetic it sounded childish to her own ears, but she was determined to let him know. To not have what had happened repeat to be left as she didn't think she could bear that. She would collapse into herself and never leave from this place he had set her atop above all the rest. 

Passion faded. Flesh rotted. Bones turned to dust. Withering away until whatever had been her, the old her and the new was gone too. 

She could not bear that.  

“I never left you. I will never leave you sweet one.” She believed him. 

Believed him as she could feel him at her fingers. The resolute beating of his pulse. Thump, thump, thump.  The heat of his skin she managed to pull. His blood strumming through him.

Believed him as he lifted his head at last from where he had trailed his kisses down from her neck to her décolletage. The warmth of his breath fanning her exposed skin dampened by his hearty ministrations. 

Daemon had come back, that is what mattered. He had never strayed. Not truly. Not in any way that mattered. He had come for her. He had found her and taken her for his own, giving her this gift of pleasure. This new her. 

“Is this all for me sweet one?” He crooned out the question. Goosebumps erupted across her body as those long digits of his hit the back of her cervix, his pace unrelenting. “Is this why you 

She wouldn’t have been able to contain her moan then even if she wanted to. Nor the shudder that wracked through her body as she folded into him. Nor answer him. Clawing at him. Pulling him tighter to her practically suffocating the man with her bare breasts having pulled down her flimsy gown as if he would flit away as he had before, but he did not. She would not. Not with the way he groaned into her skin. The way he lapped at whatever he could find as he sped up the pumps of his fingers within her heat.

There was something comforting in knowing that she had ruined him the same as he had ruined her. 

Help her mother. If she had found the Gods on the rough pads of his fingers stroking her, loving her, what would she find on the end of his cock? What would that cock make her see, stroking her, loving her, how would she feel? 

A moan interrupted her thoughts once more. 

“That’s it sweet girl.” He teased with a nip at the back of her ear. Taking her lobe between his teeth to suckle upon as his fingers worked her through. In and out over that spongy spot he had. Striking a delicate balance as he kept her on the edge. The balance that she had missed. Come to crave. 

A little heaven right under her nose which she had been kept from. Not that she was complaining, who would complain about heaven when they had reached it, but then she was in fact complaining. Whining again when he pulled his hand from her and with it that heaven. 

The sound of her wetness around his fingers filling the still. Twitching around nothing after being filled for so long. 

She felt empty. Cold somehow and empty. The air leaving out from her lungs. Left starving once more as she clawed at him. Her grip unrelenting. 

She had forgotten what it felt like to feel so empty. It was somehow worse than when he left her crying in the hall. She detested it with every fiber of her being. 

She whined and that whine turned into another moan when he brought those soaked digits to his lips to taste her. His eyes remained locked on her. Watching her as she squirmed around him.

He was a cruel man and he had chosen her to be on the receiving end of this cruelty. 

Cruelty seemed to beget more cruelty. With a pop those fingers were and had voyaged to swipe them  through her sticky folds. Torturing her, but she did not have to wait long. He plunged them back into her depths in the next breath. Reaching her cervix as he curled them. Leaving her shaking in his arms. 

“Do you feel how wet you are for me sweetling,” he growled out eyes scanning her face for acknowledgement and when he received no such thing besides her quaking in his hold silent by the pleasure, he emphasized the point. Pressing his fingers deep into that spongy spot atop her walls, she answered his growl at last with a whimper. 

She could do no more than whimper at the truth of it. The squelches of her heat playing on a loop. In and in and in. Not stopping. Never stopping as he worked her up the little hill he had molded. Her descent into the abyss threatening to undo came thundering down upon her like a clap of thunder. “Come for me sweetling.” And she did. 

Giving into that magma that had been boiling over. Seeping into the hot puddle of her own bliss. Her vision swirling with life and her body trembling with wave after wave until all that was left was her soul. 

Climax overtaking her until she felt nothing but those hands on her. arching into his fingers to draw out that fluttering feeling. Her stomach tightening with it. Body loosening into it until she was but a puddle of molten passion. 

Oh Gods. Nothing more for what else was there, but this bliss. What else was there but this? What else could there be?

Strange and unearthly as it sounded she had left this mortal plane for that brief duration of her orgasm which seemed to stretch endlessly. That puddle of bliss an overflowing fountain which kept replenishing with the sweetest liquid ambrosia. 

She hadn’t realized he had moved them to her bed until she felt the heaviness of his weight and the heat of his skin on top of her. Warming her now cool form contrasting with the feel of the soft linens and the fluff of her pillow at her back cushioning her. 

He wore a smile and greeted her with a tone as if he were frightened that she might float away from him, but how could she after this. 

“Hello.” The corners of his violet eyes which had regained some of their hue crickling with mirth as he petted her cheek with the back of his hand. Softer than she imagined it would be. It was the hand that had been inside with the way it glistened in the moon's light. 

“I think you’ve broken me,” she returned barely above a whisper and more breathy than she would like, but not knowing what else to say. She felt broken. Like a ragdoll. Breathless and listless with what remained of her orgasm. 

He laughed at her ragged state, but it was not the jeering sort. It was as airy as her own voice. Breathless happy if she would be so bold. Not just gloating he was truly happy. Pleased. Pleased with her. Pleased with pleasing her and he was far from being done doing so. 

“I shall endeavor to do that more often than.” He brought his hand up to her cheek. Caressing the flushed skin from brow down to her nape with the back of his knuckles. 

If she hadn't had the good sense to allow her maid to braid up her hair for the night as she had last night too restless with yearning for a relief that had never come till now to allow them to do such, He might’ve encountered loose coils which he could grip. Instead her mop of raven coils were braided neatly into two plaits resting upon her shoulders. 

Though she imagined he might have liked the sight of her mane unbound considering he could not keep his hands from brushing the back of those coils, for he knew better now than to try to attempt to comb through the delicate strands, last night when they had been as such during the feast. Only adorned with a band of rubies atop her head to restrain them. 

Her hair would have been a mess to comb in the morrow, resembling more a brittle bird's nest than hair and taking the better part of that very mourn to undo the damage which had been done, but she’d let him play. 

She’d let him play with her whenever he’d like. 

“Perhaps I can fuck the church mouse from you,” he mused. His thumb swiping across the expanse of freckles resembling a consolation across her nose. If he meant to raise offense to virgins sensibilities which had been bred into her that would have her hiding her embarrassment from his vulgarity he was surely to be disappointed at her reply for she met him in kind. 

“Mayhaps I shall fuck the cruelty from you dearest brother.” 

Wideyed staring up at him she expected a sharp quip for her cheek, perhaps another lewd castigation, but he was to disappoint her as much as she so joyously disappointed him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his hand had ventured to her lips, eyes darting between them and her brown gaze with not so much as a hint of mischief. “So beautiful.” She should have felt subconscious, full of virgins blush at the intensity in which he watched her, but the flush of lust was still coursing through her waiting to be attended to. Waiting in this hellish limbo that kept her from celestial rapture. 

Bare before her, his robes discarded into a pile with her gown just outside the peripheral of her vision. Covering every inch of her person with his pale flesh and staring down at her. Staring straight through her and right down to her soul. The violet of his irises blown out, replaced with the black of his pupils, he looked the picture of it. Valyrian god come to life to lead her into wickedness. 

Through her haze, she saw he was motioning towards her slightly parted lips swollen from his kisses he commanded her with a solitary word. “Suck.” 

It was less vulgar and more reverent than one would expect from the meaning of the words. Less a command too, more like he had called her beautiful once more with that starry look in his eyes that suited him odd as it was though she did not need to be flattered and she certainly did not need to be told twice.

The taste was not unpleasant. Salty mainly, she did not taste of berries and honey, but there was a sweetness there. A sweetness which she could understand why men seemed to go wild from it, why Daemon seemed so eager to have her taste herself. 

If she were to admit to it, and she hardly thought she could even at his command,it satisfied some dark perverse part of her crawling that crawled out with a tiny moan stiffened by his fingers, but that darkness still hungered. Wondering how Daemon would taste on her tongue. 

To see him reduced to a mere husk of man that would see him beg her with that solitary word and throaty pants. 

Her hand had crawled between their bodies blindly with want. Instinct drove her around this new bend as she took him in hand. 

He was hot to the touch. His skin felt soft like velvet yet rigid with his arousal. Throbbing in her hand and far larger than that hound imprinted in her memory.    

He allowed her to go on like that. encouraging her in her explorations as his hand joined hers between their bodies. Guiding her little tugs upon his length, but halted her movements when she had felt him begin to coat her hands with his spunk. 

The haze of lust she found herself in abated somewhat with a slap placed onto the meat of her thigh which had her yelping at the sting of it. 

Another was placed in that same spot rubbing the brown skin tender for good measure when she had tried to bring her hand to her mouth to taste him as he had tasted her. She could not meet his eye when he sneered down at her. 

“I did not did not give you permission to do that sweet sister.”

Taking her hand in his as Daemon brought her fingers to his lips. Enveloping the digits into to suckle upon before releasing them not a half minute after with a pop that had her wetting her thighs that she tried clamping together for some relief, but was stopped by the hard body atop. Gods, did he have to keep her from this too? 

“Greedy little thing whatever am I to do with you?” His eye sparkled with mirth at her whines and squirms beneath his person, but he took some mercy on her.

“Next time sweet one,” her brother promised. The tips of his pointer finger on the other hand that had not been in her tracing her lips as his bent head smirked down at her. She desperately wanted to meet the small admonition with a protest of her own making. Why could she not love him as he loved him, but he supplanted the words with a moan by way of his lips returning to its rightful place upon hers. 

“Next time I’ll teach you how to use that pretty mouth.” He breathed into her his want. 

Next time his promise swimmed in her head as her tongue wet and wild battled with his. Giving in as was becoming a habit when he swiped it across the nerves atop the roof of her mouth. She did not mind waiting for the next time if it would lead to this. She could wait for next time. Next time. Next time. 

He wanted there to be a next time. He wanted a next time with her. Mayhaps even more than that if he made good on his promise. If he took her away from this half-life of dictums, indifference, and daggers hidden behind tight smiles. Mayhaps there will be a thousand next times. She could almost picture it beneath the clouds. Almost feel it if she just reached for it. If she just—

“Shh sweetling,” he panted out. Pulling away from the kiss, but only just for his lips still ghosted hers.  the warmth of his breath fanning her fevered cheeks as he moved his hands to back up to cup her face as he murmured plaintives. “I’m right here.”

She did not know why, but she had begun to cry. She had not even aware she had, hadn’t even felt the telltale sting upon her cheeks nor tasted the salt of her tears, the thought of next time and its pleasures gripping hold of her til Daemon leaned down to kiss them away. Peppered her face with kisses as he shushed her. 

Trying to calm her overtaxed state with his own branding. Bringing her back down from the skies which he had ascended her into with the gentleness of his touch. And yet he was far from sending her into that bliss. Next time could wait. There was a now to see too

She whimpered as he spread her legs, this time with his bare thigh which felt like a balm to that heat that was regrowing in the pit of her belly. Feeling the stretch and her own stickiness but mostly how sore she had become. Dear god he really was trying to send her to heaven or to whatever land of milk and honey he had come from or perhaps the land of fire and blood was a more apt description for it. 

“Daemon please,” she begged, but he had only answered with a laugh and the tilt of her 

“You’ve been neglected for far too long,” He was toying with her, teasing her. Controlling her movements as he grinded her heat down upon his thigh. 

It was too much. It was not enough.    

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” That hand which had been guiding the erratic dilutions of her hips had shifted to the apex of her womanhood cupping her curls before pulling her labia apart to renew their efforts upon her pulsing button; it did not take much to send her spiraling delirious with want as she was. 

“I don’t care,” and she didn’t. Feeling her orgasm crescendo once more with each circle he drew into her engorged clit. That hill so intoxicating a climb. Her sopping cunt pulsing around nothing as her clit thrummed, but so desperately needing to be filled as she once had. “I don't please.”

She wasn’t above begging now. Not when she had a taste. “I need you please I need you—- Daemon,” she choked on her moan as he answered her call. her nails digging into his back as he breached her pulsing walls. She could tell that she was drawing blood, but she had bled for him and the man atop her had choked out a groan of his own as he sheathed himself within her to the hilt. 

He had been right there was pain but it was but a prick swiftly overtaken by that wave of pleasure which he brought the heady concoction that he made for her.

 In out. 

Not stopping. 

Never stopping for she was a finely tuned instrument he knew only how to play. 

Ever the master of his craft his mouth hot on hers as his tongue soaked up every song she gifted him. The long digits of his right hand remained on her clit. The pads of his fingers rubbing circle while his length bullied that spongy spot within her heat which once pulsed around his fingers while the fingers belonging to his left hand wrapped themselves around her throat. Squeezing as her walls squeezed his length. Milking him for all that he would give her. 

She arched her hips up onto him when he tried to leave from her walls just to thrust himself deeper within them, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her need taking over as she let the man use her for their pleasure.

 His thumb had never abandoned her clit as he kept himself seated deep within her quivering walls as she watched black dots blanketing her vision. A little death of the color he had painted over her world of gray, blind as she was, but there was so much more to feel. 

This, this was the thing which she had needed. This was what she was meant for. 

His skin upon hers. Sweat, spit, and spunk gluing their bodies together. The squelches from their lovemaking her spend and his combining with each tilt drowning out whatever remained of the world outside or even within the walls of these sultry chambers. 

The push and pull of him stretching her. His rigid length dragged across her walls, filling her better than his fingers. She felt whole. 

Each thrust somehow deeper and deeper. Carving out a space that had not existed before this, but was always to be. that want and longing that had tormented her so quelled like a babe at his mothers breasts. 

She came around him, soaking him, squeezing him, without so much as a release of breath, but he was there to breathe for her. There to speak for her. There to be her anchor.

That's a good girl. That's my good girl. Gods, you're so tight, so tight. Naughty little thing you squeeze me so perfectly. That's it, he crooned, adores position by his low rasps of breath. Voice strained in the back of his throat as he commanded her, Let go for me. 

It was not his words that undid her. Nor his grunts of pleasure he did not refrain from gifting her. 

It was in his eyes that bore into her. Violet turned midnight eyes that mirrored her own which said You'll be my death you sweet thing, but I will not leave you. In. I belong here. In. In you. In. With you. In. You are mine. In. As I am yours.

 In. In. In. In. 

She shook beneath him and he groaned into the hollow space between her breasts. Eyelids fluttering shut as he bent into her. Squirting around his hot member as he spilled into her. 

He was everywhere. Had taken everything from her body from the depths of her being and she did not care.

This was the beginning, the after, everything. Her body curled into itself. Curling around him. He did not stop and she did not want him to stop going further and further up a cliff which she did not know only that it was more than last time. Stronger too as she tumbled over into the welcoming arms of elation.

Time had lost all its meaning as her orgasm wrecked through body. White and silver the color of moonlight flashing across her. The salt of his skin the only taste on her tongue. The little grunts and moans they let out to the other as effortless as one's heartbeat. Where he ended and she began extended past where their bodies were joined for there was no him, no her, just this. Just them.

It was his hand that she came to the world of color. Petting her cheek as he had before when she had returned back to him from that mountain of bliss. Hand upon her bare hip a comforting weight, but he made no move to exert her further. 

“I will not touch you, but I need to take care of you sweet one.” Another kiss, this one placed on the tip of her freckled nose as she exhaled, loosening that ball of energy that remained from her worn body. 

Cupping her warm face between his palms as he leaned in so that his damped forehead rested upon hers. “Will you let me take care of you?" she nodded, that ragdoll feeling coming about her again, wanting to do but she knew better than to take his words in vain.

She laid there doll like upon a mountain of pillows that as he fetched a cloth and thimble of water from her wash basin. Still as naked as she, backside turned, throwing  her a boyish smile every so often over his shoulder as he dampened the rag, but having no shame in her seeing him as such and she was too tired to be embarrassed by the sight of a naked man or to care what any others might think of it. Let them make what they like.

She would not trade this, seeing that lovely gaze with light in every corner of his face which made him look ten years younger for what had been before ruined as she was. 

There was no talking as he washed slick and spend from her body. Stilted breaths, trembles when he dragged the cloth against her sour cunny, and little gulps of water from the chalice he handed to her when he had deemed his washing the only tune which played. Even the feast below them had gone well and truly quiet. The moon that hung low in the night sky which would soon glow a bloom of red and orange their only company. 

Half bathed in the shadows he stretched out a pale hand towards her as he finally settled himself beside her. Having thrown the soiled rag clear across the room for one of her maids to find in the morning along with her, but that would wait til dawn broke free of the night.

The moon high his fingers glistened in its light with water droplets from the basin as she took that outstretched hand without pause. Daemon pulled her into him with one tug.

A feminine yelp and  a contented sigh the brief interlude that cut the still. Nestling her head beneath his chin as he resumed stroking down her body. 

Gentle. 

It shocked her how he who could be so maddening who could elicit such scorn and want, even from her,  yet he was still so gentle with her when it was all said and done. She couldn’t complain that he was so gentle resting there in his arms, but it was a shock albeit the most pleasant kind. 

They went on like that. Time continuing to be immaterial. The soothing caresses down her bare back pulling her tenderly to the land of dreams. That contented quiet having quenched the hunger prevailing until he broke it.

Pulling her head slightly away from his shoulder where she had rested to lift her chin up enough to face him but not quite enough to pull her in for another sweet kiss or a searing one to begin their lovemaking anew as she had thought. She was not so very tired and the sun was still aslumber, but then she met his eye. 

Brown met Violet as their gazes aligned. 

“Come away with me.” He whispered. His voice sounded just as boyish as he looked then. A slight bit of apprehension beyond the brilliance of his gaze, but so full of hope. A hope she would not leave unanswered. 

Meeting him the rest of the way she leaned into his touch. Her lips grazed his as she breathed her reply into him. 

“Okay.” She’d follow him anywhere. Into bliss and beyond.  

Ao3 Link:

[capnportofficial]

I posted this on Reddit because they're much more negative about Sidney, but it's going here too.

(Note: In this post I use "obsession" both as the dictionary definition of the word, and as the fanon concept. The fanon concept will be capitalized as "Obsession", and the dictionary definition word will be capitalized as "obsession".)

Sidney Poindexter is a great character. We have more information about his life than we do about any other ghost. We know the year he died (1958) and approximately how old he was (17 or 18, because he was in senior year).

He has a great design. While the color green is often overused in other ghosts, Poindexter has no green in his design at all, and yet still manages to fit in with the rest of the ghost designs. His monochrome color palette is arranged very well, and it fits with his personality and backstory and lair- he's stuck in the time period he died, stuck in that last year of school. He's black and white like a photo from that time period.

Poindexter even introduced the term "halfa"! The majority of the fandom uses it, but in canon, Poindexter is the only one who ever says it.

Speaking of fanon concepts and Poindexter, Poindexter's obsession with bullies is very similar to the fanon concept of Obsessions. People say Danny has a protection Obsession, but Danny's only protecting the town because, to quote Spiderman, "with great power comes great responsibility." Meanwhile, Poindexter sees the entire world in terms of "bullies" and "people who need protecting from bullies," even lecturing Skulker about it! Skulker is a gigantic hunter made of metal and guns who wants to skin a child, and Poindexter is a tiny little nerd with 0 physical strength whatsoever, and yet Poindexter bosses Skulker around repeatedly.

Poindexter's obsession and trauma drive the plot of Splitting Images. He's a teen/young adult who faced a tragic death, implied to be either murder or suicide, and both are horrible options to go through. As a result, he's fixated on the thing that caused his death, his bullies and bullies in general. He's so obsessed that he jumps to conclusions and refuses to consider that he may be wrong. This personality flaw causes him to be the villain of his episode, despite him being a morally good person.

Poindexter sees himself as the hero and Danny as the villain, which is a very interesting thing for the villain of an episode to do! Many other villains in the show just want to cause problems on purpose. Poindexter thinks Danny is the one causing problems on purpose.

We see that when Danny is in Poindexter's lair and body, he can only see through the mirror to the human realm when he's actively looking through it. This shows that Poindexter is very likely to not have seen Dash bullying Danny, and it's coincidence that he saw Danny's revenge.

To me, Poindexter is the most ghostly of the ghosts. He's stuck in the past, he had a tragic death, he haunts a specific location, and there's even an urban legend about him!

Splitting Images, and therefore Poindexter, is often hated for its bad forced moral. But The Ultimate Enemy also has a bad forced moral. At least Splitting Images plot has a Watsonian explanation in the form of Poindexter's personality and trauma being the thing driving the plot. Meanwhile, in The Ultimate Enemy, the plot is driven by burger sauce ex machina. I've seen many people who dislike Poindexter due to the forced moral of Splitting Images, but like Dark Danny despite the forced moral of The Ultimate Enemy.

To me, Dark Danny seems like a flat one-note villain. Despite the grief that caused his existence, he doesn't seem to care about the people he's lost, or about anything really, and merely focuses on destruction. He wants to recreate the events that caused him, yes, but what is his motivation for causing the apocalypse and destroying Ember's vocal cords and putting Johnny in a wheelchair before any of the time travel stuff happened?

Poindexter is much more nuanced in personality and has a sensible motivation for causing problems. (Not sensible as in it's a good idea, but it makes sense given his personality and trauma that we already know.)

I'm not saying people should dislike Dark Danny. But please, give Poindexter a chance. He isn't any worse written than the rest of the characters in this show. I brought up Dark Danny in comparison due to the fact both their episodes have dumb forced morals, but I could easily compare Poindexter's writing to many other characters as well. He's much more fleshed out than the majority of the ghosts. But this post is getting too long, so I won't.

[tw1l1te]

Ooohh , I just read about the flustered links reacting to showing skin and flirty-ness (it’s great!), but how do you think Legend or Four would react? For some reason I feel like Legend would be really surprised initially and caught off guard, but then get used to it pretty fast. For Four, (going with the concept that he is four people in one) I feel like, from his sides, Red would be flustered, Green would try to act respectfully and avert his gaze, Blue would blush, but would try to not bring attention to it and act normally, and Vio would be 100% unaffected. Meaning that Four is a mess or reactions all at once.

Ugh I'm having so much Legend brainrot rn :>

I feel like Legend is the more suave one in this scenario. He's used to people being flirty with him, sexual innuendos, yada yada. But when it's you that insinuates that? He's smitten, turned on, all of the above.

Four is kinda similar in the sense that he hears sooo much stuff about people's sex lives in the blacksmith shop, like an ungodly amount, so he doesn't really react to it much. The colors internally are wreaking havoc mentally, though.

Here's some scenarios for the two<3

Legend

He was sewing up Wild's tunic after dinner, as the fabric was so full of holes, it was hardly a piece of clothing.

You wandered off to go wash up in the nearby stream

The group setup camp for the night, so everyone was taking inventory of weapons and food and doing whatever hygiene/self care regimes that needed to be done

Mistakingly, however, you grabbed Legend's spare clothes instead of your own. Of course you fucking did.

Your presense was made known with a wolf whistle from Wars, causing Legend to look up from his work, choking on his spit when he noticed what you were wearing.

You were wearing his dark green long tunic and shorts, hair loose from your typical up-do.

Mother of- seeing you wearing his clothes was doing something to him. He felt... hot. His mouth was dry, eyes glued onto your form. The clothes were a bit big on you, your neck and shoulders exposed to him.

"Sorry, I meant to grab my own clothes but it seems like I accidentaly took yours. I can go change-"

"Don't. Please don't."

Oh. Oh. Oh-

A sly smile spread on your lips, Legend already regretting his vocal admittance.

You sit next to him, head on his shoulder. Breathing on to his neck, you whisper "You like me in your clothes don't you? Why don't we see how much you like me without them."

Four

He was hammering away at a sword, sheltered from the downpour outside. The others were in the other room, looking over their materials and planning next steps for their journey

Suddenly the door slams open, you standing thoroughly soaked through from the rain.

"Holy- What were you doing out there?! Get in get in-"

Four quickly places the hot blade somewhere safe so either of you don't get burnt or catch something on fire.

Four runs to the broom closet, grabbing an old blanket to warm you with, coming back to you and bundling you in it, but not before noticing that you had been wearing all white meaning-

Meaning he could see everything

The curve of your chest, the outline of your hips, even your dark green lacy panties that he bought for you a month ago

"I-uh was out doing some errands and somehow took the long way back and I got lost. Also, got caught in the storm, as you can obviously tell.

He clears his throat, trying to avoid gazing downwards, which was done not very subtly at all. He was practically looking at the ceiling.

"-Ah you can see everything, can you?"

He nods, ears burning red.

"I probably shouldn't wear all white when I know its going to rain, that's my bad. Although..."

You place a delicate hand on his chest, playing with a button on his tunic, his heart hammering hundreds of miles a second and the colors were going haywire-

"I do like the color of panties you chose for me. Why don't we go see how the others you bought look on me, hm?"

teehee :3

[slothkittfunsies]

Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.

Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.

Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)

This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?

THE DESIGN

The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.

A deer. Let that sink in.

(Images for comparsion)

As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.

Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)

Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.

Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.

I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.

She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:

Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?

THE BACKSTORY

Ok, this where I'm very confused.

Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.

This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)

The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.

Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)

Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)

which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"

Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.

Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.

[wolfiesmoon]

I NEED MORE CONTENT WITH PRANKSTER YUU AND VIL😍

reader is gender neutral and is a silly prankster

ofc anything for my slavic friendo 🤭 yall get special treatment fr

i am still genuinely blown away by how well recieved that body swap fic of mine was, i've never gotten that many comments on a fic of mine before

(and how well recieved i was into the twst fandom in general, srsly guys thanks for the support💕)

You are in a silly mood today. But then again, when are you not?

You feel like causing a bit of trouble to someone, but all the fun options have already been exhausted and you doubt they'd fall for your tricks twice in a row.

However, you still do have one person you can pull a prank on, and that's Vil Schoenheit. Normally, you'd give him a special pass which lets him bypass your pranks because he's extra special to you.

But what's the fun in that? Sometimes even he deserves to be messed with a little. Also, wouldn't it be kind of unfair if Vil was the only one spared from your little tricks?

That settles it, you're sneaking into Pomefiore tonight.

You knew Vil would be out at about 7 pm, busy with a photoshoot. He told you himself. Beginner mistake.

You're already cooking up a funny prank to pull. It's an expensive one, but his reaction will be worth the empty wallet. You can always work a few shifts at the Mostro lounge to make the money back.

Once 7 pm hit, you quietly snuck into Pomefiore, trying your damn hardest to sneak into Vil's room without getting caught.

"What are you doing here?" A very familiar voice stopped you in your tracks just as you were about to reach the door to Vil's room. And you were so close, too.

"Good evening to you too, Epel." You greeted him, slightly irked by the instant interrogation. He quickly corrected himself, greeting you back with a slight stutter.

"I just realised I forgot something in Vil's room." This actually wasn't a bad excuse at all since you often visit Vil and Epel knows that. You mostly just let him experiment on you with makeup or let him talk about his passions. Which is always a pleasure.

"Why do you have a backpack, then?" Epel glanced at the backpack which was hanging off your shoulder. He didn't mean to doubt you, but even he's been a victim to your pranks before. You're being really suspicious, but then again, it feels like you're always planning something.

"They're books, and thick ones too. They'd be difficult to carry with my hands." You shrugged, subtly showing the conversation is over as you placed your hand on the doorknob.

Of course, that part about the books was a lie. Your backpack was filled with "skincare products". They looked exactly like Vil's skincare, but really, all the bottles were filled with mayonnaise.

It's very convenient that mayo is coloured moderately like skincare products, and if it wasn't, you made sure to color match it with dye. You even tried replicating the original smell on some of them. Buying all that skincare from Sam was truly eye opening to just how expensive Vil's shiny skin is.

You're going to swap out his actual skincare with your counterfeit mayo skincare. You would pour out the contents of the original bottles and simply refill them but you have a feeling you'd never escape Vil's wrath if you did that and that's the one thing you definitely do not want to happen.

You placed the mayo skincare on his vanity table, carefully replacing each cream and balm one by one exactly as they were placed originally. Ohohoho, this is going to be great.

You put Vil's actual skincare back in your backpack and left Pomefiore with a sense of accomplishment. Oh, you wish you could see his initial reaction directly.

.

"Care to explain what these are?" Vil lifted one of his creams out of his bag, sat across from you in the Pomefiore lounge.

"They're uhhh... your skincare creams?" You acted innocent, like you had no clue why he was taking that tone with you.

"I know it was you. Epel told me he saw you in Pomefiore acting suspicious yesterday." He pressed you further, serious expression on his face. Ohohoho, you suddenly feel like you're in a detective movie.

You tried not to let the satisfaction on your face show. "Huh? I was simply taking back the magical history book I left in your room. What does your facial cream have to do with it?"

"I am not here to play this game with you. What did you do with my skincare?" He did not look amused by your excuses in the least.

"Hehehehe, I might or might not have replaced it with mayonnaise." You grinned evilly at him.

"You-" he seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "I knew you switched it out with something, but mayonnaise? Really? Why do you do these things?" He knew you knew that mayonnaise was his least favourite food. And he also knew of your affinity for pranks and jokes, but it seems he's gotten a bit too comfortable with not being their victim. Just how long have you been planning this? (One day.)

"Becaaaause, it's funny. Oh man, I wish I could've seen your face when you first applied it." you snorted, imagining his expression. His face is always such a joy to look at, but you imagine it must have been especially expressive in that moment. Your snort developed into hearty laughter.

"I for one do not find it as amusing as you do." he crossed his legs, looking at you with an expression that demanded seriousness. If you weren't so comfortable around him, you would have immediately apologised and bowed gracefully. His presence sure is strong.

You tried your best to stop laughing so he wouldn't actually kick you out of Pomefiore, but it was hard. Whenever you thought you had calmed down and tried looking him in the eyes, it was right back to laughter.

After about a minute of this, Vil seemingly gave up on stopping you, expression softening slightly.

"You should know by now how important skincare is to me. Having to miss out on it this morning was a horrible experience. Which, speaking of... just what did you do to the original contents of my products?" he looked incredibly horrified at the thought of you simply throwing away the contents.

"Oh, I, uh...." you acted nervous on purpose to make him think you're confirming his fears. His eyes widened slightly and he leaned forward in the fancy lounge chair.

"...Put the original tubes and containers away in Ramshackle dorm and bought new ones to refill with mayo." he took a visible sigh of relief. His products live another day.

"Didn't that hurt your wallet?" he asked.

"Yeah, a lot. But it was worth it." you shrugged, smiling at him.

"Well, I suppose you're quite a dedicated person, too. I didn't peg you as one initially." you really are a dedicated prankster. In some aspects, he respects the commitment. In others, he thinks you were kind of stupid for spending so much money just to annoy him.

"Always have been, pookie bear, always have been." you jokingly blew a kiss at him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks dusting pink. How ungraceful.

"I like you when you're angry." you blurted out after a few seconds of silence.

"...You're strange." he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Hahahaha, I knowwww. It's just, like... when you're angry with me for pulling a silly prank on you, it feels different. Your face becomes all expressive and stuff. Oh, and also, it's like, really hot." you recall watching a few movies which he acted in and you felt all giddy when he got angry playing the hot villain. As much as you know he dislikes being typecast, you always simp for him quite excessively when he plays a villain.

"Then why have you only pulled one prank on me so far?" he ignored that last comment after a few moments of consideration. He supposes the pranks would lose their effect if you did them too much, but if you really get that much enjoyement out of his misery, then why have you waited so long?

"Oh, that's because you get a special no-prank pass. You get it since I love y-" you paused.

"I realise I've said too much... I mean, uhhh, that was a prank! Got you! Hahahaha!" Suddenly, you wanted to remove yourself from Pomefiore, so you did just that. You quickly left the dorm without saying goodbye. You cringed at yourself for how unnatural and forced that laughter sounded.

He blinked a few times at the sudden end of the conversation and then fell back on the lounge chair.

"That little... Oh, your real goal is to make me lose my mind, isn't it..." Vil pressed his fingers against his forehead, mumbling that to himself before going to sort out some paperwork. He's wasted far too much time dealing with you anyways.

He denied any accusations from Rook about his cheeks being more pink than before.

[midnightfox8]

Gladiator! Ghost x Emperor's Husband! Soap

Omegaverse, Ancient Rome, Dual sex omegas (author never do that before)

I

ACT ONE

Each of Ghost's scars was full of pain, each of his bleeding wounds had its own bloody beginning, each breath was a sign that fate and the gods still thirsted for revenge, each of his wild battles ended in his furious victory.

The people adored him, their eyes beholding the savagery and ferocity of Simon Riley, a former Centurion of British origin, once matched by Roman legionaries and trained by Price himself, commander of the Emperor's Praetorian Guard (*personal guard).

Ghost's face is covered with sticky sweat with drops of blood, his eyes are directed at his enemy, he swings his sword with strength and thins out when striking a blow in his direction.

“He’s not going to give up,” the alpha thinks, he leans over to better inspect the slope. Graves was not going to give up, he grinned at him predatorily.

Both sweaty under the scorching sun and wounded, they continued to compete with each other until only they remained.

The entire arena is full of enthusiastic people shouting the names of the gladiators remaining on the battlefield.

"Ghost!" "Ghost!" "Ghost!" The people screamed, shouting the name of the defamed man, as soon as the arena witnessed justice, which was the imagination of quenching glory and entertainment for the masters.

Under Simon’s feet, the loose sand became hot, and on his thighs, dried drops of blood made his skin itch, this was not the first time he had to take a life, he had killed more than once, there was no mercy for him.

“They're screaming your name, traitor.” A bead of sweat rolls down Graves' nose, his face torn with wounds.

He is limping, Simon catches the thought.

Ghost concentrates between Philip's legs and strikes with precision with a sharp blade right between the other alpha's knees. He growls loudly and falls to his knees, feeling the warm scarlet liquid coloring his legs.

"Kill!" the people roars, reaching euphoria.

A moment of dissonance and shock buys Simon time before Graves stands, holding him on his knees, dragging his sword along Graves' neck.

“Nnnggg,” Graves grunts hoarsely, a growing sense of fear gripping him as metal stained with the blood of other men is pressed against his skin.

He teases him, waiting for the moment, because they need a show.

The screams of people are getting louder, Graves clenches his teeth, he silently accepts his fate, feeling how hard and a huge palm grabs his hair.

"Kill him!" they shout.

Ghost raises his dark eyes to the highest point of the Colosseum, the abode of the emperor himself and his court. Among the faces he knows, he sees one pair of blue eyes rapidly looking at him.

In the whole world, the only ray of light is still the greatness in this blue abyss.

Simon's gaze moves to another figure, dressed in a white tunic and with a Civic Crown on his head, he's smirks with milice.

Emperor Makarovius, sitting on his throne like an arrogant deity, extends his hand and smiles smugly at the call of the crowd, his thumb pointing down, he has made a decision.

Steel pierces its way along Graves neck, and before he can even cry out, Ghost brutally decapitates the man, causing louder excitement.

The Ghost's free hand covered the man's mouth.

muffling the wet, gurgling cry of shock as he sliced ​​through the vulnerable flesh of the soldier's neck with one clean blow.

As if by a quick impulse, Ghost in an oriented manner deprived the alpha of his head, while bleeding his legs.

He lifts Graves's head from the loose sand under his feet, ignoring the puddle of blood, a grimace of pain was the last emotion imprinted on the face of the unfortunate Phillip.

Ghost! Ghost! Ghost! The screams became louder and louder each time. He won the hearts of the audience, but the only thing that worried the Gladiator was the heart of the man sitting next to the Emperor.

“Are you satisfied now?” He frowns, feeling the corners of Makarovius's lips turn up.

Graves's face froze in a silent scream.

Sick bastard...

The hubbub of the people died down when the Emperor solemnly exclaimed,

“The gods have had mercy on Ghost again!” Makarovius, dressed in an elegant tunic, delighted the people. “Lucky for you, slave!” he grins, chuckles.

Luxury, grandeur, hypocrisy and cruelty, these traits are inherent in Makarovius, no one has ever resisted his will, except for Simon Riley, it was his refusal to attack the settlement of the Britons that became an insult to the Emperor.

which is why he simply deprived the Centurion of his possessions, lands, honor and freedom, leaving it to fate.

Having survived slavery from the master Manuelius Roba, Simon was able to reach Rome thanks to battles.

Price was able to ransom him from Roba's hands, but could not give him freedom, so Simon was forced to fight for what he had lost.

But Makarovius did not know that Ghost was Simon Riley. Therefore, using the helmet and soot as a camouflage, the alpha was able to make his name as Ghost.

Ghost again receives the regalia and will leave the arena, accompanied by attentive glances.

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

Lovers

The dim light of a torch illuminates a stone fortress prison; in the middle of a dark tunnel, a man in a dark hood with a guard approached towards a separate cell, it was spacious and locked with an iron door.

“Ghost,” Soap whispers low.

There is a rustling sound behind the door Soap glances at Gaz, the young beta slowly unlocks the iron door, he hides the keys in his belt.

“Be careful, master,” Kyle lets the man in front and closes the door behind him.

The prison cell is dark, with only a tiny number of candles illuminating the small room, but Ghost has no difficulty seeing the man with the mohawk in front of him.

Soap smiles softly at him, “Si”, the blue-eyed man with tenderness on his lips adjoins Simon.

“Johnny”, He says quietly.

Ghost is not lost, he kisses Soap.

Both hungry, bored men kissed deeply and long, clinging tightly. Erratic breathing and muffled groans fill the space.

“Simon”, Soap mutters, barely moving away from the alpha's lips.

“Got you, love,” Ghost says mildly.

His dark pupils enlarging as Johnny continues to kiss him, moving his lips along his jawline.

Simon runs his hands along Soap's waist, he touches the silky tunic and traces invisible patterns along the omega's strong shoulders.

“Ye scared me,” Soap mutters, his fingertips brushing the jagged scar along the alpha's cheek, “I don't want to lose ye”.

“Never, Johnny”, Ghost says huskily.

It seemed that such a forbidden connection between them was a sin, but how could one resist it?

Every night Soap came to him at the risk of himself, every night he sneaked out and spent the whole night with him, and in the morning they both returned to their lives.

For Soap, life in the imperial palace was dull, and he had to share a bed with his husband less and less... so Ghost captured his attention.

Upon first seeing Ghost, this is what Soap saw; a conqueror, a beast in human skin, bloody and victorious, his eyes burning with furious joy, his teeth bared as he dug his knife into the dead flesh so that it would be easier for the fire to eat.

It was love at first sight. Since then, John could not stop visiting him under the cover of darkness.

Gladiator was once just fun and a good time for John, but after... they both couldn't stop it.

John catches the dark eyes on him, he grinned.

“My alpha should get a proper reward”, he coos, kneeling in front of Ghost, who just grunts.

“Wanna makes me, Johnny?” Simon whispered hoarsely.

“Maybe,” John chuckled breathlessly, leaning forward and mouthing along the line of his cock through his pants.

The grip on his hair tightened, and John revelled in the realisation that Simon was already hard. Looking up through his lashes and holding eye contact, John smirked, opening his mouth and dragging his tongue over the fabric of Simon’s clothed crotch.

Simon looks at Soap with hunger eyes.

He’s handsome, too, stupid mohawk aside. He’s got thick arms and thicker thighs, skin honeyed by the sun, blue eyes and a sweet grin...

\\\

The heady scent of sex in the air, and then stopping sound of pussy easily swallowing Ghost fingers.

Velvet skin pulsing and sliding against his own. Ghost’s hot breath whispering near his face.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost whispers hoarsely, his pants intensifying as his pale lashes flutter.

“Simon,” he cries, the sound swallowed by Ghost’s unrelenting mouth.

Ghost sits back between Soap's legs, which means He gets an eyeful of him. Ghost has trimmed his pubic hair, just enough that it doesn't look too deliberate.

“Missed me, sweetheart?” Ghost suddenly asks. His brown eyes have gone dark and he gives Soap a hungry grin.

“Yeah,” Soap says with a breathy laugh as his cock twitches. “But I also like when you in me”.

“Fuck–” Ghost's voice is rough, and then he finally does demonstrate his grip strength.

Soap's sloppy pussy is dripping with slick, his cock is hard, Ghost growls.

It's like a vice, and for several seconds his head is full of white noise. Then Ghost lets go and Soap gasps. He's so hard it almost hurts, and he begins to grind down on Ghost with way less coordination.

“Fuck, please,” he gasps. “Fuck me, I need ya”, Soap swallowed hard.

“Fucking hell, Johnny”, Ghost says again. He sounds a bit awed.

Alpha growled softly under his breath, keeping his eyes on the younger man and spreading his legs wide, as if it would be a direct sign for Omega to approach him.

Omega tensed, slightly surprised and a bit overwhelmed by the size of the alpha, but after a few long seconds, a long moan came out of his mouth, which made Ghost immediately start to move his hips, sliding his manhood out of omega's hot pussy.

It was enough to make him lose himself in the pleasure. He was as comfortable with no one as this blue-eyed succubus.

Soap moans loudly as Ghost inserts himself again at a wilder pace, fucking him.

“Alpha,” John whimpers as a mushy palm presses into his wet folds and runs his fingers along the entire length, feeling the stretch, and then rises straight to Soap’s hard cock, making several thrusts.

Ghost moved like a beast during mating, he tore John's cunt, coaxing loud moans from the man's sweet lips. He growls, feeling the spongy walls reflexively compress him with pressure.

Loud moans, the sound of wet balls and a squelching pussy make it clear that both yearning lovers have reunited again in a passionate tandem.

With smooth strokes, Ghost continues to move, greedily kissing the omega’s loose lips.

“Inside, please,” Soap moans, wrapping his legs around Ghost’s waist.

The alpha growls contentedly, he closes his eyes and then wildly begins to lick the man’s neck.

They know they can't... But Johnny loves it when Simon kisses his scent gland.

"Johnny," Ghost whimpers as Soap's cunt squeezes him, causing his knot to swell.

Ghost's pulsating cock out like a pale web directly into the desired ring of muscles.

Both men roll their eyes, letting out a blissful moan. Soap again attaches his lips to Ghost.

By morning, John barely leaves him, again holding back his tears, the omega kisses his lover on the mouth, promising to give him the desired freedom.

ACT TWO

Soap sweeps his eyes around his periphery, he is relaxing in the garden, hidden in the shade, several servants pour him wine and serve him grapes. He doesn't feel happy, he feels like he's in a golden cage where everyone is trying to control him.

With a slight movement of his hand, he runs his fingers around the goblet, observing the scarlet liquid.

"Is my husband upset?" Makarovius's voice forces the corners of Soap's lips to droop.

“Don’t wanna to drink,” John knows that the alpha will insidiously try to find out everything about him. John is lying. He's a good actor.

Appears on Vladimir's face grin, "Whatever you say," the alpha mutters as he leans down and kisses Soap's temple.

Not like Simon, he thinks, Makarovius does not stand on ceremony; he obliges Soap to be obedient to him.

For three years now, John has been enduring this, his own mother married him off to the emperor, she humiliated her son more than his older sisters, who were able to start families out of love.

“Today the doctor will visit us,” he snaps, leaving the man alone.

Soap frowns, he has been trying to get pregnant for several years now, he tried his best to spend his heats with his husband, but Makarovius could not give birth, an alpha who is not capable of conceiving is a shame - so John became a target for bullying instead of his husband. John knows he's capable. Right now he is afraid of this, no one should know that there is a life growing under his heart.

Soap slowly runs his hand over his stomach, they have to put an end to this tonight.

***

Silence fills the walls, the sounds of guards passing by become increasingly distant, Ghost quietly enters the palace, dressed in a guards uniform.

Tonight, Price withdrew security from the west side, allowing Ghost to be deployed for a short time. Revenge. Kill. Johnny. And run away with Johnny. This was the plan, but among the main aspects, Simon chose only two - Kill Makarovius and escape with Soap.

Makarovius's chambers were large; two guards were just changing duty. Having prepared himself, Ghost was able to get inside. There was silence inside, the dim light of candles barely fills the royal chambers, when Ghost slowly and quietly approaches the bed, he does not notice anyone. It must be... The alpha turns at the sharp rumbling sound, his instincts did not deceive him.

He fuckin' knew.

Standing in front of him is Soap, frightened and pale with fear, his hands in chains and his face covered with bruises... His omega Behind him stands Makarovius, smiling disgustingly, his dark eyes sparkling with wild flame.

Ghost clutches the sword in his hand, he frowns.

"Here's a meeting of lovers, right?" Vladimir purred playfully, he holds the dagger, pointing the sharp end at Soap, drawing an invisible line at his throat. The gag in John's mouth causes the omega to growl furiously. Ghost instinctively tenses, he dared to touch his omega.

He must die.

Makarovius knows he can't win, so he uses a dirty move.

“Dirty bastard,” Ghost growls through his teeth. When he approaches both men, the alpha immediately presses the dagger directly to John, threatening to take his life with one movement of his hand.

“No, otherwise he…,” Vladimir giggles, Ghost silently looks at Soap. Omega glances at him, scared. Simon throws the sword and the metal hits the marble floor with a ringing sound.

“Simon Riley, my dear centurion, so this is where you have been,” Vlad began, “You are Ghost. So what did you come for? To kill me?” Alpha smiles evilly, he enjoys the way Simon clenches his fists, how Soap's heart beats hard under the onslaught of death...

“I’ll rip out all your bones,” Ghost hisses. Laughter fills the walls, Makarovius seems to be holding an ace in his hand, and so it is. Soap is Simon's weakness.

“You two are idiots,” Vlad runs his dagger across John’s chest, his white tunic disheveled, the omega frowning and growling through his gag, “You pretended well, dear, but your feelings gave you away.” Ghost wants to cut off Vladimir’s bloody hand and shut his mouth.

“Coward,” Ghost chuckles darkly, the alpha frowning displeasedly at his words. “Be an alpha and fight me,” Ghost comes closer, this alarms Makarovius and he sharply points the dagger straight to Soap’s stomach.

"Stay where Riley, or I'll deprive you of something valuable." Soap growls when the sharp end touches the torso –

Ghost blinks. No Simon looks at the alpha in disbelief, trying to find the truth in Soap's gaze. "This whore is carrying your bastard".

Glassy blue eyes look at him.

"Johnny," Ghost mutters. His blood rushes, he breathes loudly, feeling that anger is ready to burst out of him and destroy the bastard

“Surrender and accept death,” Makarovius is lost without letting on.

He'll regret it

"Johnny", an unfamiliar voice comes from Ghost's chest, it sounds like a wounded animal.

“If you keep this up, I’ll—” Makarovius trembles as Simon gets close to him.

Soap kicks, he loses control of him when Ghost manages to hit him.

Vladimir falls insignificantly and does not have time to grab the dagger when Ghost hangs over him and hits him mercilessly, he hits him with a wild and furious flow and forgets about how Vladimir is trying to escape as his hands wander to save himself. With a loud sound of bones, Ghost keeps his word and crushes every bone in the dead emperor's body.

Soap looks at the angry alpha, scarlet blood flowing down his hands.

Freedom

The bright rays of the sun play on Soap's tanned skin, his wide smile gives Ghost peace, he runs his large hand over the omega's big belly.

Loud children's laughter fills the walls of Riley's house. Simon watches his son and daughter play tag in the garden, laughing happily.

Johnny purrs as the alpha runs his lips over his mating gland.

“Soon there will be a third one running with them,” Soap sings.

“My love”, Simon says mildly, he swoon when his husband runs his hand over his cheek. "Still not getting enough, Johnny?" he teases.

Soap just looks at him with a challenge, “Never, I want to be full of your puppies,” the blue-eyed one gives Ghost a kiss.

That's all he wanted.

Since Emperor Makarovius was killed and justice was restored, Ghoust received the right to freedom and all his awards, possessions and regalia were returned to him.

John and Simon began to live in the south of the empire away from Rome, despite the return of the position of centurion, Riley decided to live a quiet life with his husband and his future (five) children. They lived in love and fidelity until their death, John died first and after three days Simon followed the love of his life.

In place of Makarovius, his cousin Nicolasius became emperor and became famous for his peaceful rule along with his husband Price.

The future grandson of Soap and Ghost became an emperor known as the great among the great. His reign in Rome was called the golden beginning (he abolished gladiorator fights and gave all slaves the opportunity to become free)

[rhey-007]

Viva Las Vegas!

Fernando Alonso x driver!reader

Summary: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... But not this time.

Warnings/Tags: female reader, mentions of hate comments, mentions of racist comments (literally just a mention nothing specific), fluff... I guess that's it : P

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED SOMETHING JXVSHHEHRHBRBT I'm so happy haha

So this fic is based on this ↓ request. I hope I lived up to your expectations TwT I honestly think it's a cute little fic and I love the inserts :3

Wordcount: 2925

*:..｡o○✨○o｡..:*

You sighed in relief finally leaving the F1 studio after you finished filming Grill the Grid for Las Vegas. You loved doing those, it was a lot of fun but the filming was always the last part of your job for some days and after so many activities before, you were sometimes too tired to think of any answers.

Unfortunately for you, Lando and Carlos approached you the second you left the building, huge smiles plastered on their faces.

“Hi Y/N! How was filming? “

The younger one asked enthusiastically at which you just shook your head.

“What do you need? Cause I’m sure you do need something... “

“Well... We're going to a party to start off this amazing weekend and we were thinking that you might want to join us”

The Spaniard explain making you sigh. They could see you were tired but you never said no to them so they tried their best to convince you.

You could use some party and alcohol after the previous weekend when you crashed your car on almost the very beginning of the race, causing you to be upset and quite nervous ever since.

“Lewis will be there too. Literally everyone will be there! Even Fernando! “

Ah yes... The Fernando card. The forbidden card the boys knew would get you worked up to whatever they wanted.

“Fine... But you have to pick me up! “

You huffed agreeing reluctantly then walked away to get ready. You were going to some club so you decided to put on a thigh length, sparkly lavender dress, some black heels and golden jewelry with some soft makeup.

Lando and Carlos whistled at you as you approached their car and immediately said after you got in.

“Ooooh Fernando’s gonna loooove that~”

Rolling your eyes at their comment you kicked Carlos’ seat so he would finally drive away.

The party was full of Formula workers and drivers, the boys were right, everyone was there. It was hosted in one of Vegas' clubs, one you had no idea about but were glad you decided to join and discovered that magical place.

Carlos and Lando left you just after you walked in so you sat alone by the bar, waiting for Lewis to notice and join you but he was too occupied by the girls.

You sighed heavily ordering a drink and almost spilled it when you felt a hand on your back. You turned around to see those beautiful hazel eyes shining in the colorful lights and a huge grin you oh so loved.

“Hi gorgeous~”

Fernando said sitting down beside you, his hand not leaving your back radiating pleasant warmth.

“Well hello there Mr Alonso~”

You smiled widely at the older man as he checked you out. The light purple dress matched your dark skin perfectly driving the man crazy.

“The guy you dressed so beautifully for is really lucky”

“Oh there is no guy. Unless you want to be him~”

You teased sipping your drink, making a soft, barely visible in the lights blush appear on his face. Fernando noticed you started to get bolder and bolder with your flirting which made you even more attractive in his eyes. He loved confident women.

“I would be honored. May I have this dance then? “

Quickly finishing your drink you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor where you had a great time the whole night. You felt eyes on yourself the whole time, knowing damn well no one will let you forget about this till the end of your life. But you couldn’t care less, just indulged in the moment.

The next day you arrived to the Vegas circuit for the grand opening a little hangover with your grid bestie Lewis.

The two of you drove through the paddock on his electric scooter, one earphone in each ear’s listening to Eminem, with Lewis’ chin on your shoulder. You looked like a couple and to some acted like but in fact you considered each others siblings.

Lewis was not only your teammate but also the only person you felt comfortable talking about the racist hate comments you received, as he understood you the best. Being a black woman in an European men dominated sport was not easy. You got a lot of backlash and negative opinions from some fans, coworkers and FIA staff despite being one of the best drivers on the grid.

The only group that fully accepted you were your fellow drivers. They saw you as a precious gem, a little sister they had to defend at all cost, even though you weren’t the youngest.

The one individual that thought otherwise was the oldest one – Fernando Alonso. He didn’t see you as a little girl but as a woman, a very beautiful and gorgeous woman, the object of his desires, that's why he spent the whole previous night by your side, unable to deglue - a thing the whole paddock knew.

So when he noticed you and Lewis pass by his blood boiled. The man knew Lewis was nothing more than a brother to you but couldn’t help the jealousy accumulate inside of himself whenever he saw the two of you together.

“Fernando saw us”

Lewis murmured at which you just shrugged.

“I don’t like how he's looking at you... “

You rolled your eyes with a sigh. After having this conversation with Lewis so many times you already had enough. The man didn’t approve on your behavior relative to each other. He deemed the Spaniard was too old for you, considering your 12 years age gap.

Lewis just wanted the best for you, the best for his little sister and he knew you could do so much better than Fernando. He even arranged you multiple dates with guys he thought would be perfect for you, but you always dismissed them all sometimes not even showing up to the date to Hamilton’s displeasure.

You knew he just wanted good but you found it annoying and unnecessary.

“You’re exaggerating, as always... If you don’t like it so much you should’ve looked after me yesterday and not pick up chicks... “

You remarked before hopping off the scooter and walking in to the Mercedes garage.

Fernando clearly flirted with you whenever he had a chance, so you weren’t surprised seeing him beside your platform along with someone from media filming the whole thing, blowing you a sweet kiss and sending a wink just before you and Lewis were launched for your presentation.

Hamilton shook his head disappointed hearing your giggle. He was opposed to your little ‘relationship’ or whatever you could call it but you couldn’t care less.

Fernando was a really handsome man and your age gap wasn’t something you worried about. The thing that actually worried you was his flirting. As much as you enjoyed it, the man was flirting with literally everybody earning him a status of a womanizer, which drove you crazy.

You wished you were the only one he flirted with. Little did you know that with you he meant it, he really meant it.

By the time the elevator lowered you down the Spaniard was gone. You figured he must have gone to do the interviews, to which you were escorted just after stepping out of the lift.

Later that evening you were sitting in the recording room you rented and recorded your podcast where you talked about working as an F1 driver and answered your fans’ questions. Most of the questions were about your work, some about the relationships with other drivers while some were just mean comments.

When something like that happened you usually just hung up with that person mid their sentence and answered another call as if nothing. You tried not to worry much about hate comments but had to admit that some really got into your brain and heart.

After 3 tiring hours you were almost by the end when someone asked you a very interesting question.

“Well... I was wondering... What do you think about Fernando flirting with you?”

You chuckled softly remembering all the times Nando flirted with you, how your cheeks flushed and the world seemed to stop leaving only the two of you in motion. You wouldn’t admit you loved it, but you truly did, sometimes even fantasized about it.

“You know... It’s not like he’s only flirting with me. I saw him flirt with Lance... Mark... I’m sure you saw those clips too. Fernando’s just a flirtatious guy”

“But what if it’s genuine?”

But what if it’s actually genuine?... You could only wish it was... He'd been doing this for a very long time, yet he never actually invited you on a date, that’s why you doubted it.

“If it was, he would’ve asked me out a long time ago. Unless he’s shy and tries to do it right now through you!”

You joked before thanking the girl and moving on to another person. Good thing it was the last one, because after the previous call the only thing you wanted to do was to drown yourself in your foolish fantasies.

“Last but not least – anonymous. Bring it up!”

“Would you be mad if Fernando actually tried to ask you out through somebody?...”

That voice... You could recognize it everywhere as it lingered behind Fernando almost always. Lance’s scared voice sounded in your earphones making you laugh. You never though Nando was actually too shy to ask you to a date himself, considering his shameless flirting and a status of a womanizer.

“Yes! Is he there with you?”

Silence fell on the other side before quiet bickering could be heard, then Alonso’s voice filled your ears.

“Hi...”

“Hi stranger. Is there something you would like to ask me?”

You smiled widely awaiting his response, legs jumping like crazy from excitement, teeth biting hardly into the bottom lip as the seconds felt like hours.

“Well... Uh... C-can you turn around?”

Frowning you did as he asked, turning in your chair to meet his silhouette waiting outside your glass office with a huge bouquet of field flowers – your favourite. You felt your heart melt at the thought that he remembered such little details about you. You gasped seeing him, that beautiful smile graced his face as he watched you turn back around.

“Couldn’t you just play along!? It could have been so romantic!”

He whined making you shake your head in amusement. You could not believe... The man always made you happy with just him being but this time you felt like on cloud 9.

“So?... What do you say?”

You sighed heavily thanking your audience before quickly dropping everything off and leaving the office.

“Do I have a choice?”

Asking playfully you grabbed Fernando’s arm and greeted his wingman.

“So where are we going?”

Lance dropped you off at one of the most expensive restaurants in Las Vegas, even though you told Fernando some beer and fries in a random bar was enough when he told you where you were going.

You were a little skimpy, coming from not so rich family and always felt chest pain when buying expensive things or when someone bought you something.

Alonso knew it well but he wanted to give you the whole world so since that date he had been showering you with presents, not letting you complain about the price nor giving them away.

“Fernando?...”

“Yes?”

“Please be honest... Why did it took you so long to ask me out?...”

You asked after you ordered your food. That question occupied your mind since you started to flirt with each other. You thought that if that womanizer actually liked you, he would’ve asked you on a date a long time ago, which slowly made you lose faith in the chemistry between you two. The man sighed heavily gathering his thoughts before he responded.

“Well... I have to admit I was scared... I have a big, toe curling crush on you since we’ve met but I guess I was just scared that such a beautiful, smart and young woman won’t take a liking in an old man like me... Even though you were flirting back I just wasn’t sure... “

He confessed. You smiled reassuringly and captured his hands in yours.

“Oh Fernie... You could’ve tried... The worst that could happen would be me rejecting you but I could never... You’re too handsome and wise for me not to fall for you. And don’t you ever again dare call yourself old. Because you’re not. I don’t mind your age and neither should you worry about our age gap. It’s not that big after all...”

“12 years is not a lot?”

Fernando asked with a chuckle earning one back. The man loved hearing and seeing you laugh, especially when he caused it.

“It’s not! I know worse cases!”

You laughed along the man. You’ve spent the night enjoying each other’s company, hoping the day would never end.

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast. You slept in his hotel room, in his bed but nothing happened between you two. Fernando loved you too much to rush anything sexual, prefering to just shower you in sweet kisses and goodnight hugs.

“Buenos días princesa~”(good morning princess)

The man soon walked in, a wooden tray full of food and two mugs of dark liquid in his hands. He sat down beside you and waited for you to sit up before he placed the tray in front of you.

“I’ve made you some breakfast. Your favourite. Chocolate pancakes with strawberries and bananas and caramel latte macchiato... Which I had to order from Starbucks downstairs as I am unable to use the coffee machine. Too complicated for my old mind”

You smiled happily and placed a sweet kiss to his lips before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Mmm... Thank you... You know me so well”

“Of course I do. I’m your one and only after all”

The man grinned before settling down beside you and joining you in eating. The morning passed by too quickly and soon you drove with Fernando to the paddock. Fortunately no paparazzi noticed you yet.

For the rest of your stay in Vegas, Alonso took you on dates, always to a different place thinking of different activities every time. You felt like he was what was missing in your life as you always felt a part of you lost until that evening.

The media quickly caught on to your romance, writing an article after an article about your relationship. The whole grid started to call you an old married couple the moment they found out, being very happy for you two just as the whole F1 community.

The only one who was still opposed to it was Lewis, but with time Fernando has managed to convince him he wasn’t so bad and treated you right.

Soon the 2023 season finished, that meant that in some time the F1 social media team was going to organise a Secret Santa gift exchange.

You wondered who’d you get, secretly hoping for Lewis, it would’ve been the easiest task ever as you knew well what he craved.

Unfortunately you drew Yuki and decided to buy him some food and sweets as it was the safest gift you were sure he’d like.

You weren’t the only one who drew someone other than they wished to. Fernando drew Esteban but wanted to get you, so he started to run around the paddock asking every driver if they got you.

Eventually he traded with Kevin who was more than happy to take Esteban, he just couldn’t think of a gift for you, whereas Fernando had his gift bought for you way earlier which waited in his apartment for the exchange.

When the day came, the social media staff caught you after an interview and you started to film your bit, which was the last one.

You sat down by the table and greeted the fans before taking the present the interviewer gave you. You smiled the whole time as you unwrapped the paper, a small black box emerging from it.

Opening it you revealed a beautiful gold ring with a shining amethyst in the midle. Looking confused at the ring you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

You turned around rapidly to see Fernando on his one knee in front of you, a soft smile plastered on his face as he looked deep into your eyes.

Tears started to fill yours when you finally understood what was going on, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips.

Some might thing it was too early as you only dated for a month but it felt like you've been together for those 2 years of flirting. Besides, Fernando felt like you were the one. No. He knew you were the one and you knew he was the only one for you too.

You shook your head not believing and hid your face in your hands.

“Fernando. Alonso. Diaz... You’re impossible”

You said soon, pulling your hands away from your face and smiling widely at the man.

“Is that a yes?”

You didn’t say anything instead quickly putting the ring on and throwing yourself at the man, you both falling to the ground with happy giggles and applause from the people surrounding you.

Grabbing his cheeks you kissed him passionately, not caring even a little about the cameras filming you, you wanted this moment captured and the whole world to see it.

It was the best month in your whole life...

*:..｡o○✨○o｡..:*

I hope you liked it! Let me know if you have any ideas for future fics! 💞