#I literally love my morally grey girl

[boodles-of-noodles]

Aphmau’s Wardrobe!💜

[jonahmagnus]

"Vriska did nothing wrong" yall cant even handle Lucretia adventurezone

[abyssmalice]

(ACTUALLY while im on my thonky-thonkies for the night, i would like to say - as much as i love writing toni-sibby shenanigans and generally writing within that premise, i would very much like to write her default no-brother verse some more..............

it's unfortunately the setting with the most nuance and complicated Stuff(TM) for my tonitoni so sugdyguygdygyugdsugsdu I NEED TO REMEMBER SHE DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE A FREE CANDY WALLET CALLED AJAX TO BUG SOMETIMES!!)

[ervotica]

please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Control 18+ Ft: Shuji Hanma, Taiju Shiba, & Ran Haitani WC:1400+ Resident: @enchantedforest-network Synopsis: You belong to them and they have to remind you that when you start to act out. They will put you in your place and you won't fight them doing so. (I wouldn't fight them not one bit 💀) TW: Masturbation (F! reader receiving), Morally Grey Men, Possessive Behavior, Choking, fingering, finger sucking, pet names (baby girl, brat), slight stalking, degrading names (slut), calling them daddy, strong language, dominating trait from the three men, jealousy, you belong to them.

Hanma

“Tsk tsk like I told you to keep your legs open for me.” Hanma cooed in your ear. Your back pressed against his chest.

Your panties were tossed on the floor. Your legs spread slightly open. The way his fingers brush between your slits causes you to squirm uncontrollably. Hanma leaned over your shoulder, his golden eyes gazing at his tattooed hand between your legs. “Just the slightest touch is making you quiver this much?” the cocky tone left his devilish lips as he could feel your juices on the tips of his fingers. 

The way he did it was always a teasing matter, he knew it drove you crazy. “Stop teasing me so much.” biting back the moans as your eyes closed savoring this sinful touch his fingers could do to you. It was hard to separate yourself from him, he came and went when he felt like it. The consistency was never there when you really needed him. You said to yourself you were finally done putting up with his bullshit and mind games. You even questioned your own sanity wondering if he even loved you? If he did… he had a strange way of showing it to you. When you decided to go out with someone different you wouldn’t have guessed he followed you and your company the entire evening. 

Your company wouldn’t even make it into your apartment when Hanma finally had enough of what he liked to call the ‘little game’ you were playing. The poor guy didn’t know what hit him (literally). Hanma with a look in his eyes you could describe them as dangerous and yet sexy, almost making you want to get on your knees in front of him ready to take your punishment. 

 You were putty in the palm of Hanma’s hands and you hated how vulnerable he could make you feel and yet you wanted him to touch you more. Just like a drug, you couldn’t get enough. 

 “Just remember I’m the only one that can make you feel this good.” his fingers pushing more between your slits “Your pretty little cunt is mines and mines only. You thought I was kidding when I said no one else could touch you?” his long slender fingers sliding into your moisten cunt feeling the warmth of your walls. “See I can’t leave you alone for a few days without you acting like such a little slut….You disappointed me.”

“I’m-I’m sorry.” you whimpered as his fingers were pumping in and out of you. His fingers are getting nice and coated with your sweet nectar. “Oh fuck please don’t stop.”

“And if I do? How badly do you want it, my little slut?” 

“Bad Shuji baby~~” you whimpered.

“Tell me who you belong to?” The possessive tone was making its appearance in his voice. He added another finger into your warm little cunt.

“Shuji Hanma~~~” tossing your head back slightly against the lanky man.

Taiju 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Taiju watched you avoid direct eye contact. “We are not done talking.”

“I’m done talking.” You shot him a quick look and began walking to the shared room. You began undoing the expensive dress he bought you just a few days ago for this special event. Where he was sitting, he clicked his tongue and began rolling up his sleeves getting up from his seat following you to the bedroom. 

‘god damn brat.’ Taiju being the observant man a few hours prior the dress looked great on you but he noticed some more unwanted looks. Even Taiju overheard a conversation about you and your dress with a few men he knew. He fucking hated how they were speaking about you. He just wanted to rip their throats out. It took every inch of him to control himself and not make a spectator of himself just like he did when he was younger. You were enjoying yourself but it was being cut short by him. When you asked him he didn’t give you an answer but simply moved you towards the exit. It frustrated you because he wouldn’t even tell you the reason and that's when you became more sassy with him. You weren’t going to look at him. 

It wouldn’t take long for you to hear his footsteps enter your bedroom. The dress slides down your frame as you reach for your silk robe placing it on. “Like I said we are not done talking you damn brat.”

“And I say we are.” you picked up the dress and placed it on the back of the chair. 

It was driving him crazy that you wouldn’t look at him. The large structure man walks towards you. In a quick motion, you were pinned between him and the wall. His large hand pinning both of your hands above your head. Still avoiding to look at him “Even pinning your hands above your head you still can’t look at me.” his large hand was around your neck applying enough pressure to get your attention. “Apparently, I need to wrap my hand around that pretty neck of yours to have you look at me like a good girl.”  Taiju's eyes focused on yours as they traveled to his hand around your neck. He felt his growing bulge forming in his pants. “Look what you do to me. Getting me all worked up..” his voice was low raspy the hint of his bourbon mixed with the cigarette he was smoking lingered on his breath. 

“Now… Are you going to listen to me when I tell you to do something?” he asked you. You didn’t argue as you nodded. “I can't hear you.” the slightly taunting in his voice. 

“Yes daddy.” your eyes are still on his.

“Good girl… Now get on your knees for me and show Daddy how much you love him.”

Ran

Sitting on his lap, it was becoming more apparent he was looking at your left hand more. His fingers seem to play with the ringless ring finger. Ran began picturing what kind of ring he was planning on placing on your finger. “Something on your mind Ran?” Looking at the violet eye lover. His eyes drifted from your ring finger to your doe-eyed expression. “Thinking about what kind of ring will look good on your finger baby girl. I think it’s been long overdue and I want to get it now.” 

You cocked your brow at him “Really now?” with a playful smirk “What makes you think I will wear it now?”

“As my future wife, it will be suitable. You would want to wear the ring your future husband bought now wouldn’t you?” Your fingers combed through his soft smooth short hair. “If I don't?” 

“You will, I will make sure of it.” He reached for your fingers intertwining them with his. Sliding you off his lap onto the couch, his hand still intertwined with yours. You were sliding lower onto the couch as he was hovering over you. “You and I both know well if I place a collar around your neck you wouldn’t remove it or just like when you ride my face until you cum. No one is capable of taking you from me either.”  

He had you right there. No doubt in his mind and he was right you wouldn’t decline anything he wanted to do. He would be able to convince you to walk down the street in lingerie if he wanted to. He had this sort of power over you and it always made you cave in. “I get it, Ran. You know I’m teasing Ran.” you playfully said, “I’m yours.”

Other than the three words he loved hearing, he also loved those two words  “Say it again baby girl.” Lowering his head lower towards your lips lightly brushing against yours. The light touch of his light sent a tingling sensation throughout your body.  

“I’m yours.”  You lifted your head slightly as your lips pressed against his. 

“That’s my girl~” Ran smoothly said to you. Ran freed his hand from yours, his index finger brushing against your bottom lip. The tip of your tongue lightly brushes against the tip of his finger. With no asking from him, your lips began sucking on his finger. “I bet you would be sucking me off so good just like always a baby girl. Seeing those pouty lips around my cock how you take me inch by inch.” he continued to watch you suck on his finger.

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Tagging: @the-haitani-baton, @satanlovesusall666, @galactict3a, @ratlovecat, @niko-ash, @iluv-ace, @captainmycaptainn, @strawberrychrome, @missgab, @anxious-chick, @livefromraleigh, @kei-b-gurlll, @spookiisopium, @bontensbabygirl, @txna04, @intheafterall, @stygianoir, @kira-rrh, @intheafterall, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nightqueensk, @alexanderlightwoodii, , @sintyu, @missgab, @elmakimaki_ , @hana-patata, @ancient-vivarium @livefromnc , @mdibby @chronic-claire-universe @cxrxx @drakensdarling, @stephisokay, @lunatical, @q-the-rockaholic, @istanstraykids, @opchara, @twistedw0nd3rland3acc, @galliardsmaniac, @villsophie, @carixes

[saintchaser]

marauders era unpopular opinions, once more

i really don’t like fanon regulus. i don’t like him being helpless and kind and a sirius variant. he’s morally grey, leaning towards morally dark, he’s selfish, he agreed to his parents’ and voldemort’s ideologies, having joined the death eaters most likely by his own will (unlike draco malfoy). but obviously, everyone is allowed to characterise characters the very way they want to

and while we’re on it, i don’t like evan and barty either, for the same reason. maybe i would, if they were realistically characterised (i LOVE reading morally grey or morally dark(er) characters), and once again, i believe that just because one likes a character, that doesn’t always mean that the character is a good person

and continuing on the same topic, the sunshine james potter, although being a topic that i like and delved deeper into myself, is nice, but i would also love to see more of arrogant, spoiled james potter, too

not liking severus snape and peter pettigrew but liking evan, barty and regulus is kind of hypocritical

i don’t like jegulus

i also don’t like the casanova, bad boy characterisation of remus, and the helpless, needy characterisation of sirius either. to me, they’re out of character, overly done and absolutely not enjoyable

and because i earlier mentioned severus snape, i think he’s an interesting character, actually. that doesn’t make him a good person (once again, i believe him to be morally grey, too) and i can’t call myself a lover of his, however i find his story and character very interesting and compelling

i don’t like a lot of the wolfstar dynamics in current fandom

“we need more content about the girls!” literally do it yourself. please. whenever i write content about the men, i get a wave of new followers, and whenever i post about the non-men, suddenly i have tebs of people unfollowing me. oh, and my posts about the men have twice or thrice the notes of the other ones

sirius > regulus

and speaking of which, sirius is such an interesting character, and he was reduced by many people to nothing, or whatever is relevant to the plot

james would pick sirius over regulus any time, with literally no hesitation

i don’t care about popular fics (read or don’t read, i generally don’t read popular fics to be honest), however i do care about the way creators, especially writers, are treated in this fandom. i made a few posts about this topic, feel free to ask me to link them to you, but the way some people feel entitled to fic and fandom content is horrible

“x is the female version of— !” please stop. i’m going to stop you right here.

stop tagging jegulus and wolfstar and other mlm ships with wlw and nmlnm tags, for god’s sake. you’re just clogging the tag, and if i came looking for a certain ship, that’s what i’m going to expect to find. besides, why would you tag jegulus with, say, pandalily, when jegulus is by far more popular?

jegulus < jily

[patrophthia]

do not make him ‘go away’ | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader

genre: literally just fluff and comedy (bc i love turning dark morally grey character into soft babies), superrrr self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 4.6K

originally posted on wattpad: a while back lol

"i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

or the trope simply the trope of grumpy reluctant boyfriend and bubbly/fun girlfriend.

she had always loved defense against the dark arts. don't get her wrong, the classes and lessons were always great. professor thea was good at her job, teaching them both the theoretical and physical studies that is needed from the subject.

but now, as she landed flat on her butt, she hated the subject more than she could ever imagine. malfoy was a terrible dueling partner, taking every possible chance to knock her off her feet.

"do you want me to go easy on you badger?" he asked tauntingly, towering over her.

she looked up at him —half expecting for him to offer a hand but he only smirked at her. "you're a dick."

"i sure am." he only watched her struggle with amusement.

there was a scoff from besides him and within a split second he was being nudged over. replacing him was the head boy, leaning down to look at her with furrowed eyebrows. he offered her a hand; one which she took and lifted herself up.

she muttered a quick thanks, not sparing him a look whilst she busied herself with wiping soot off of her clothes. looking back up, she found him gazing at her.

"what's your name?" he asked after a minute, watching her with skepticism.

"[name]?" she replied, unsure. he knew her name, surely he did, they had partnered up during sixth year for a potions project and he can't have forgotten it in the span of one year could he? "i thought you already knew that."

"i did." riddle pursed his lips, nodding to himself. "i just wanted to make sure you knew your name."

she scoffed, giving him a dirty look. "i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

if it were anyone else she would've laughed it off as a joke but tom riddle has this ominous thing about him, one that put you slightly on edge, making it seem as though he would actually follow through with his threat.

so —as annoying as malfoy was, she told him. "no." and then, slightly terrified that she would wake up tomorrow with the news that abraxas malfoy had mysteriously gone missing, she added as a precaution, "don't kill him."

she wasn't sure if she was joking or genuinely scared that riddle would do it for her sake. no matter how much he would deny it, to her —he seemed like a feminist, never failing to hand detentions out to male students who mistreated girls. so killing his cult follower for a woman wouldn't be far from how she characterized of him.

"not unless i'm dying then you can kill him."

it was barely a month later when the same occurrence happened; malfoy was her dueling partner once more, malfoy shot her a spell at her that had her landing on the floor, malfoy mocking her for apparently being a 'weak' dueler, riddle pushing him over and offering her a helping hand.

asking her, "can i kill him now?"

to which she replied, without fail. "no."

riddle gave her a dissatisfied look but kept his hands off of malfoy nonetheless, respecting her request.

why he listened to what she said, she couldn't answer.

not until he asked her to call him tom (or maybe something else a significant other would use), not until tom asked to be her boyfriend, not until tom reluctantly agreed to trail after her on a trip to hogsmeade with her friends.

it seems as though tom could never say no to her.

"are you ready?" she asked, peeking her head inside of his dormitory's door.

tom whipped his head around from where he stood in front of his mirror, looking less than excited to be going out today. "yes."

"great," she tried to stop herself from squealing, pushing the door open so she could approach his side. "i can't wait for you to meet them, they think i'm lying to them about you."

tom fully turned himself to face her, giving her a once over and taking in how she looked.

pretty.

as always.

he felt something flutter in his chest, pride for having her? excitement in finally going to honey dukes after hearing so much about it? the hope of being able to convince her to let him make malfoy go away? love?

no it can't be. he was conceived after a love potion, he can't love. feeling slightly frustrated with himself, tom grumbled, "stop looking at me like that."

she furrowed her brows, curious by what he meant. "like what?"

"like you have feelings for me."

"tom," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose out of irritation. "i'm literally your girlfriend, i'm supposed to have feelings for you."

tom blinked. her telling him that she was his girlfriend shouldn't have felt as good as he did. what the fuck is wrong with him. defeatedly, he muttered, "i'm breaking up with you."

"yeah sure you are."

•••

"so how long have you been going out?" rae asked, acting oblivious as if [name] hadn't told her every single detail about their relationship.

she smiled, nudging for tom to answer.

tom took a deep breath. a response that rae was silently hoping for after hearing about just how grumpy and moody tom was from her friend. trying to tease him without doing so much as saying anything provoking.

he then smiled, turning on his charms in order to converse. "five months and thirteen days."

trying to get under her boyfriend's skin, [name] frowned, feigning confusion. "five months?"

"yes." tom cleared his throat, glaring at her. "and thirteen days."

"is that right?" rae questioned, trying to irk him. "[name] told me you've only been together for three months."

the slytherin turned to her, his face showing offense. "you did?"

"i love the weather this morning," she said instead, trying to distract him.

yet tom was persistent, he knew they were having a laugh, he wasn't daft, but it certainly didn't feel good to hear rae say what she said. "did you?"

"merlin isn't it crowded today?" she ignored him, looking out the carriage's window as it pulled to halt. she opened the door, landing on solid ground before looking back to where she was sat. with a tilt of her head, she signaled for them to exit as well. "what are you waiting for?"

tom sulked as he got off the carriage, a small pout on his lips. "are you going to answer me?"

she looked down the streets, seeing it packed with people from left to right before turning to him, letting her hand find his and interlocking it. "no."

tom felt a urge to pull his hand away, not used to PDA but it felt so right, so right that he went against his better judgement and mumbled something so stupid he mentally facepalmed himself. "why are you touching me?"

she only giggled in response, noting the confuse tone he had instead of being vexed by his words. "so i wouldn't lose you. you can't expect me to keep track of you with this many people around, can you? i can't lose my boyfriend."

not when he was a dark wizard who was constantly reminded that killing people is a morally wrong thing to do. "what if you start finding people to join your little fan club?"

having to tell him to not use the basilisk for salazar slytherin's quote-unquote unfinished business was hard enough for her to handle, let alone telling forty —maybe even fifty others, that it was a wrong action to take.

maybe it was her 'i can fix him' mentality but in all honesty, tom has been behaving way better ever since they'd gotten together then aragog has all year. and yes, she knew it was wrong to compare a human to an acromantula but when the said human was conceived under a love potion and has no real concept of what love is.

if he was as good as a spider, he was good to go.

"you say that like i'm evil," tom murmured, barely audible due to the loud chatter hogsmeade provided.

"you're not?" she countered incredulously. "didn't you say you wanted horcruxes despite knowing what it takes to make one?"

"yeah but . . ." he trailed off, finding himself at a loss of a word. "i didn't end up making one, idiot."

what an endearing nickname. "that doesn't make it any better, tom. you still thought about it."

"but i didn't make it."

•••

being head boy brought tom gossip. whether he cared for it or not, it always follows him. he had heard every rumors there was, knowing them thoroughly from start to finish. tom never bothered to care about them, not until he found himself becoming friends with a group of girl who would talk their heads of about anything.

with a "come in!" from his girlfriend, tom opened the door to her dorm room. he shut it behind him, eyes roaming around to try and find her. finally his eyes landed on where she sat by her desk, head low, crouching over a long strip of parchment.

"walburga and orion are betrothed." he stated, standing by her side.

"what?" rae screamed before she could, power walking out of the bathroom with her tooth brush in hand. "the blacks?"

"who else," tom said with a roll of his eyes.

that caught her attention, she turned to him, curiosity written all over her face. "aren't they cousins?"

"they're pure-bloods, inbreeding is in their genes," came octavia, [name]'s dormmate and friend who was nicer than rae would ever be. then, with a look of distaste, she added, "how could they force an engagement on orion? he's literally a fifth year while walburga graduated last year. it's disgusting."

"well," rae snickered, "what else would we expect from the black family?"

"i also caught macmillan and weasley are snogging on my rounds today," tom said, sitting down on his girlfriend's bed. "asked me to keep it a secret but there's only so much to be kept in the chamber."

rae chortled, hand covering her mouth. "you know, in my native language they would call you ប្រុសមាត់ក្តួយ (pronounced pros-moit-kdouy)."

[name]'s brow knitted along with tom's, narrowing their eyes at rae. "what does that mean?"

rae only giggled, sitting up on her bed with octavia listening it. "it technically means 'a man who can't keep his mouth shut about drama' in khmer but the literal translation is a guy with a vagina for a mouth."

"what the fuck." tom muttered, eyes wide. the three girls in the room bursted out laughing, that must've been the first time they'd ever hear him curse. "why would you call me that?"

"because you are," rae countered.

"i'm not!" he argued, "you just called me a labia."

"she never called you a labia," came [name] from his side, "you called yourself that."

"i-" tom paused, unable to tell if he himself was angry, annoyed, amused or disgusted by their conversation. "i don't like you guys anymore."

"you're welcome to leave any time you want," rae quipped, gesturing towards the door. "or find new friends."

octavia changed the topic, done with their bantering and told them about a story with a guy she'd met. apparently they'd been going out for a total of three months, keeping it a secret, before he cheated on her.

she was mad at him but he made it seem as if it was her fault; telling her that what she heard was true but he couldn't stop about thinking them. and he knows that she's been there a few time as well, insinuating that octavia could ever do something as wrong as cheating.

there was a look tom shot his girlfriend when octavia finished recalling everything that happened between her and chris marsh.

[name] sighed, knowing why exactly he gave her the look and shook her head. "no."

"but-"

"no buts," she interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose with frustration, "you cannot kill him. we talked about this tom."

"i know but he's hurting her," he pointed out, "and she's your friend so. . ."

"tom please," she pleaded, "no killing is justifiable unless one of us in danger with actual death."

"promise me i won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing."

"i promise that you won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing," said tom defeatedly.

•••

tom looked ridiculously stupid, he knew that. he sighs, feeling rae smearing wet paint on his face. the things he did for his girlfriend.

if you were to go back in time to tell tom riddle that he would be sitting on a chair getting his face painted black and yellow for a quidditch game, he'd think you were having a laugh and cast a killing curse at you.

but now, being told repeatedly to, "stay still you pesky snake" by his girlfriend's friend as she watched the two of them interact without the smallest hint of jealousy, tom —he would never ever in a million years admit this— couldn't be happier.

there was such a soft domestically about it, him getting along with her friend without the urge to kill rae or for rae to kill him, knowing that they were friends who just liked to threatened one another was more than anything tom could ask for.

he felt good, despite the uncomfortableness that came with donning a different set of colors. he (surprisingly) didn't care that he wasn't dressed in green in silver, being more than happy to be supporting her.

after finally being let go by rae; tom stood up, facing his girlfriend. with a tilt to his head, he asked her, "i thought i could be very persuasive until i met you."

"never thought i'd be going to quidditch game, let alone support another house." his eyes then glanced to a mirror that stood besides her, taking in his own appearance. salazar, rae must be taking the piss, he looked like a clown. eyes shifting back to her, he asked tiredly, "are you happy now?"

"i am if you are," she responded, taking a step towards him."i'm not," tom grumbled truthfully, not hiding a single ounce of annoyance. she shrugged, smiling. "that's too bad, i take back what i said. i'm happy now."

the three made their way out of her dorm and into the hufflepuff's common room to meet up with octavia. tom eyes quickly roamed the room, surprised by how many of the students who were spending their time there was from another house.

from his quick scan, tom had managed to count a total of five slytherins. three of which who were visibly miserable, face painted yellow with their friend or significant other beaming besides them. and the other two, being the ones who were forcing face paint onto their ravenclaw and gryffindor friends.

no matter how much time he'd spent welcomed in the hufflepuff common room. tom would never understand how they could be so comfortable with letting anyone enter whenever they pleased. that would not flow well with the slytherins.

up the great hall they went, passing the grand entrance before leaving the castle entirely and making their way to the quidditch pitch.

with a kiss on tom's cheek, an action that had his eyes widening and face flushed red, she bid him, rae, and octavia a goodbye before making her way into the changing room.

rae led the way towards the stands, fighting with tom about where the appropriate seat for him would be.

"no not in the slytherin section," rae argued, trying to find the best place for their group of three. "how could you be the head boy and be so stupid?"

"you're sitting in the hufflepuff row where your girlfriend would be looking for support from," she said with a tone of obviousness, finally settling down at a place she found best suited for the three of them. "honestly."

the match ended quickly, she'd had spotted the snitch within the first thirty minutes of the game before she started her pursuit and caught it in the next four minutes.

gryffindor lost by a hundred and ten points and without consciously knowing it, tom found himself cheering loudly for her, his voice was overpowered by rae but it was the thoughts that count.

there was a flash from his side, he turned, finding octavia giggling with a polaroid in hand. she wordlessly offered it to him. tom took it, curious as what he would find on it.

the picture developed bit by bit, revealing tom in frozen cheerful state, eyes bright as he watched the scene before him, his forehead was yellow, his mouth gaping with its corner tipping upwards. behind him was rae, on her feet with her hands pressed against the railing, frantically screaming at something the picture couldn't fully depict.

"you're not keeping it." octavia told him. "it's for [name]."

octavia then slipped a hand into her pocket, picking out a new picture and handed it to him. "you can have this though."

inspecting it, tom found a picture of himself frowning on his girlfriend's bed. she sat besides him, laughing as if her life depended on it, her head was thrown back, a hand clutching onto her stomach.

tom pocketed the picture, smiling to himself. "when did you take this?"

"when she told you to not make marsh 'go away'."

•••

graduation came and tom was quick to ask her to move in with him. she was skeptical at first, reasoning with him that neither of them had jobs that provided enough for them to have a financially stable home, but that idea was shot down when tom told her that the ministry had already reached out to him.

offering him a job that would let them live a comfortable life. they moved in together shortly after, finding a small cottage that looked perfect for the two.

she was able to turn her hobbies into a job, making her more than just happy. by 1950, tom —with all his slytherin ambitions— found his way to the top, earning the position of minister of magic.

it was late when tom came home, having to run over a last-minute case that malfoy presented him. he shrugged his coat off, trying to be quiet as to not wake his (still) girlfriend up. tom found his way into their bedroom where he found the en-suite door wide opened, he walked forward trying to take peek.

inside was her stood in front of the mirror, taking off her make up with a cotton pad when she spotted him, her eyes shifted to him for a second before turning back to herself. "how was work?"

"it was good," he answered, tugging at his tie. and then he furrowed his brows, lip tugged underneath his teeth. quietly, he muttered, "let's get married."

she blinked rapidly, not believing her own ears, she whipped around with a small noise of confusion, facing him. "what did you say?"

"let's get married," he repeated casually, finally getting his tie off. "are you proposing to me?" she asked him."yes." he nodded. "i thought that was clear."

"so yes or no?"

the wedding took place two years later, with it being repeatedly postponed due to tom's work but it was perfect nonetheless. they had friends and coworkers (that they actually liked) at the ceremony. rae teased tom endlessly, not once giving him a break for taking so long to propose.

in 1959, octavia invited them to dinner at her house, her and husband having an announcement for them all to hear. but before she got to the good part, octavia told her about some of the not-so-good news.

her husband, dawn, was recently bitten by a werewolf. he was having a hard time experiencing the transitions during the full moon so they had a request for them.

now here comes the good news along with her favor: octavia was pregnant, she was four weeks long and since it was only her and dawn.

she will be needing help.

"that's all?" rae asked, frowning. isn't it already implied that rae, her, and tom would all help her when she'd gotten herself knocked up? "you know you needn't ask right? i will be spoiling that child rotten."

octavia smiled, feeling relief. why did she even feel nervous in the first place? these were her friends, the same ones who collectively bullied every man she's ever broken up with. they will always have her back. "that's all."

and then she added, "i just thought it might be a burden to you guys. it's just- it will be hard since dawn would have to recover from the full moon and i'd have to work, so i need people who i can trust to babysit the kid sometimes."

"you could never be a burden," [name] said, "not when i can be the cool aunt."

"oh please," rae let out a loud cackle, "you would never be the cool aunt. that's me."

octavia gave birth on november, 3rd, 1959 to a lovely girl named clementine calla azure. the same day that the blacks welcomed their first son, sirius orion black. rae (would lie if you ever pointed this out to her) was ecstatic when clementine turned out cuter than the black's son did.

she, liked she had stated months prior, spoiled the child to death. buying it everything it could possibly want, babysitting it every time octavia even looked like she needed help.

octavia —instead of using the time to relax, spent her time creating a wolfsbane potion. making the potion was a tedious process but she had more than enough time from tom changing clementine's diaper because he, despite being forced, had promised that he would also help with her baby.

rae was an author who made enough for herself to live lavishly. apparently, muggles really love the story about a dark wizard trying to kill a little kid for his chance to be immortal.

"so," rae clapped with clementine prompted on her hip. tom, dawn, octavia and [name] were all scattered around the living room, sitting down and listening to rae as she stood. "you're probably wondering why i called you all over."

there were noises of confirmation before rae started up again. "i've been doing some research lately and there's more people who has been involuntary bitten than you would think. basically what i'm saying is that tom —since you're the god of magic or whatever— needs to draw up a new bill where werewolves would be known by the ministry and themselves only so the ministry can provide help."

"werewolves tend to have a hard time finding work and keeping the job since they would have to recover every full moon and miss work days. the potion octavia created is going to be recorded in the history book, we know that, but something else that should be recorded in history is how the lovely tom riddle —who i definitely like and doesn't want to have a one v one with— made a law or whatever, where if a werewolf is legally signed in with the ministry, they get a wolfsbane potion provided by the ministry by owl every month."

"they're extremely costly rae, and they take a ridiculous amount of time to make." dawn was quick to point out the flaw, understanding this topic more than anyone else in the room. "not to mention how there's millions of people like me out there, we won't be able to get them to everybody."

"tom is like the zeus of magic," rae said, slightly irritated that they didn't just agree right of the bat. "if he just created a lab and put twenty of the best witches and wizards in there with large pots and get it brewing, they can make it work. and as for the products needed, there's always herbologists that needs work —not trying to stereotype but most of them are hufflepuffs, they would take the chance to help without even thinking twice."

"it will work, trust me," rae said, almost pleading, "what do you say, riddle?"

the law, or bill, or whatever it was, was put into place shortly after. werewolves were scared and skeptical at first, always having been labeled as monsters until eventually people started piling in for help and they were given what they needed. octavia loved her new job at the ministry for it meant she could be helping out her husband and everyone like him whilst also having the freedom to invent whatever else she wanted.

"tavia brought clementine to work today," tom stated, making his way into their library. "so i've been thinking."

"oh no," she muttered, dropping her book onto her lap, "you never have good thoughts after seeing clementine."

tom tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"last time you saw her, you decided that it was a good idea to have your basilisk follow after her when she grows up so she'd never get hurt," she answered, looking up at him as he stood before her.

tom shrugged. "i don't see any flaws in that plan, if anything i think it's the best thing for clementine."

"how can you be the minister of magic and be an absolute dumbass?" she laughed, feeling his hand reach down to rest on her cheek.

"because, i'm not," he said easily, eyes focused on hers, "and believe it or not i actually have a brilliant idea that you might actually like for once."

"alright," she muttered, amusing him, "what is it?"

"i think clementine should have a cousin."

"clementine already has a cousin—"

"that's not what i meant, idiot," tom cut her off, a small smile etching on his lips, "you know exactly what i'm trying to say. don't play dumb, pet."

"i actually don't know what you meant," she said matter-of-factly, feigning innocent, "please explain."

tom sighed. "i want us to try for a baby."

"i thought you hated kids."

"i do," he agreed, "but i also know that i wouldn't hate them if they were ours."

— from bee: this was very OOC but idc,,, fluffy tom or no tom ever (i have the i can fix him mentality)

[elysianymph]

🔥 anything about sirius because i am being a little hater towards some characterisations too

i've already talked your ears off about this on discord but i'm happy to talk to about it again bc i fucking HATE new sirius black with a burning passion. i hate him as much as i love my sirius black that marauderstok can pry from my cold dead hands bc i'm not letting him go. i don't know when it happened and why but marauders fans are particularly persistent on taking away any interesting traits sirius had and leaving behind a whimpering pathetic twink that cries when someone looks at him the wrong way. sirius has been scrubbed clean of any morally grey traits he might've had (he's not allowed to care for his family (unless it's regulus) or long for them bc they are bad, he's not allowed to have any prejudices even though he was literally raised with pureblood mentality and taught he was superior to everyone else from the day he was born, he's not allowed to be an asshole bc he's not like his family guys!! and when he is an asshole it's always used to victimize the character he's being an asshole to and sirius is painted as the villain with mommy issues that can only be fixed by getting dicked down apparently)

i cannot stress this enough: LET THIS MAN BE A COMPLEX CHARACTER!! and no, giving him mental illnesses that miraculously disappear when he gets together with remus and making him attempt to kill himself post prank because he feels bad is NOT making him complex! you're just weird. you're just romanticizing mental illnesses and i can't believe you don't see anything wrong with it. giving him bipolar to justify his actions is?? not??? representation??? it's offensive to people who actually have to deal with these issues in their day to day lives and yet here you are using something that will impact their life forever as a plot device for your uwu sadboy mlm fanfic.

and that's what new sirius boils down to. he's a plot device, an accessory to everyone else's story that's never given much depth other than "oh his mom used the cruciatus on him and now he's traumatized". no hate to jegulus but hate to specific jegulus fics that turn sirius into an overdramatic caricature of his former self for the sake of drama and angst.

also, some of these wolfstar shippers... wtf are you guys on?? idk when and why (that's a lie i do but i'm not gonna say it) remus became sirius black in a werewolf costume but here we are. oh sirius was cool and effortlessly smart and handsome and girls wanted him? well guess what? snatches all of those character traits and throws them onto remus they're his character traits now. ignore how it doesn't make any sense for the werewolf child who was isolated from the rest of the world to be a smooth talking alpha casanova who plays basketball actually. while we're at it, ignore how unrealistic it is for a boy who was raised in a family that believed they were superior to everyone else based on blood status, who was raised to be the perfect heir and checked off all the traits needed to be one to be insecure?? and unsure of himself?? and stupid??? and a loser??? i don't understand what the point of flipping the wolfstar dynamic was when you're left with a shallow copy of the original but ok. you do you ig.

to summarize, my sirius is cool and effortlessly smart and egotistical and a complete asshole who thinks he's the best thing ever. is it an act to cover up how damaged he thinks he is because of his family? possibly. but i also fully believe sirius thought he was a god amongst men and everyone should be glad to be in his presence. he talked down to other people because he considered himself smarter, he rolled his eyes when students asked stupid questions and made fun of them when they got an answer wrong. he's a teenage boy let him be a dick with no excuses.

(also i find it funny when people write about sirius getting into a fight with james or remus and crying because they said something mean. as if sirius wouldn't throw hands the moment someone started criticizing him. he's toxic and that's what makes him interesting. that's his purpose! characters exist to make stories interesting, to start drama, not to be your moral guide on how to act. stories become so much more fun once you let go of the need to make every character a good person. also liking a character doesn't equal liking them as a person. i love sirius but i would hate his guts irl)

[viridianevergarden]

Reading comprehension and critical thinking has really gone out the window hasn’t it? At least in a portion of the fandom.

People are forever stuck under the presumption that Az feels pure lust for Elain and nothing more. That lust suddenly doesn’t go hand in hand with love? That Az is mentally fucked up and should get therapy yet no one else in the IC should? That Az is wrong for naturally shifting his feelings of love from one person to another? That he’s wrong because he didn’t “take a break”? That because of these, Az doesn’t deserve to have love and to love in general?

People are also forever stuck under the presumption that these characters are oh so evil and shouldn’t deserve love at the same time? Take Rhys for a popular example. (When it’s a book series about the ‘villain’ getting the girl. The math isn’t mathing. He’s not even a real, true villain).

No character in ACOTAR is meant to be a saint, I thought everyone knew that. (Oh my god! Morally grey characters when they do morally grey things, shocking😧)

I find most Azriel antis are literally just people who can’t put two and two together. Or just don’t like him for whatever reason they may have. (Everyone has their opinions, yes). But my god, the shallow interpretation and failure to understand his character annoys me ngl. He’s a complex character but he’s not a damn mathematical equation. (He is complex yet linear.)

“He only thought about sex in the bonus chapter.”

As if Elain also wasn’t aroused too? And gave him permission? (Omg, mutual consent! Blasphemy!)

But also the fact that they disregard Az’s noticeable and careful attention to Elain that he has shown throughout the entire series? They disregard purposefully romanticized moments?

“What happened with Elain?”

“What about Elain?”

“I’m getting her back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Would you like me to show you the garden?”

“There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“This is Truth-teller.”

Shadows gathered around the room like snakes preparing to strike.

“Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

“We need to get these chains off her.”

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring [Elain]…

“She doesn’t need anything.”

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

“Happy Solstice.”

Staying up with her til 3 am, talking about her gardening plans.

The kiss on the cheek.

“Beautiful.”

Countless times of him gently carrying her around.

Him constantly looking out at her garden.

Him spending actual effort to get her a thoughtful gift for solstice.

Facing death itself to get her back immediately by himself.

A laugh so deep and joyous.

Looking at that headache powder every night for over a year without ever using it.

The absence of his shadows in her presence.

“His secret to tell, never hers.”

Need I go on? Azriel is always hyper focused on Elain. Always. If it weren’t for him, Elain would probably be dead or in more trouble than she ever would have been before.

If all Azriel cared about was slipping under Elain’s dress, why did he attend to her so? Why is he hyper aware of her? Why is he so assertive with her needs over anyone else? Even over Nesta? Why would he feel the need to defend her against Nesta, her own sister, if it called for it? Why does he respect her and Lucien’s boundary by refusing to have eyes on Lucien for the sake of their privacy? Why was he the only one to show initiative over anyone else to get Elain back to safety now rather than later, by himself, even if it meant certain death?

But yeah, all he wants is her body. Right? Yeah, that makes sense…

I’m just saying. No main SJM character would ever go through so much effort just to bed another character. Thats not SJM’s style nor is it logical in the slightest.

But oh yes, he feels entitled to her and her body…

…Entitled?

Wrong E word.

Envy ≠ Entitlement.

Feeling Envious of the love that his brothers have? Of the bonds they have with the other sisters? Yet he’s the only one left all by his lonesome? He feels left out. Third wheeled. And rationally so. He’s happy for his brothers but envious all the same. (As if Cassian didn’t feel the same but no one said shit about him did they?)

I’ve said this in another post too but he is NOT looking at Elain and going “she should be mine.”

He doesn’t even think he deserves her for freaks sake.

Rhys doesn’t really know Azriel. Cassian doesn’t really know Azriel. No one truly knows Azriel. The only one who has truly understood some semblance of Azriel is Elain. Even when his heart and feelings are so incredibly gated off from everyone.

So that word —entitlement— that people keep throwing around from Rhys’ lips is completely misguided.

The sheer mischaracterization makes me see red 💀

But back to the point, with obvious and mutual romantic feelings, being horny is normal. (This is also an adult romantasy series, shocking that there’s sexual content).

I’ll die on that hill for Az and Elain.

I don’t get how it can be this hard, but maybe it’s just me.

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Propaganda under the cut.

Han Sooyoung:

She's the designated morally grey person of her found family (they accepted her reluctantly cuz she did some evil (morally grey) stuff. She literally has to kill the protagonist multiple times (or be the one to take the initiative) because no one else wants to and she's the only one 'evil' enough to do it. She has such an interesting relationship with the 'completely morally good' characters in the story and by interesting I mean so gay and so fucked up! Also she's my cringefail babygirl and deserves to win. Did i mention the alternate universe where she saves everyone by dooming one person but her goal at the end is to abandon everyone anyway? The part where she destroys the world and passively kills thousands of people (they don't just die once either) and makes someone experience literal hell just to save one person... Yeah

honestly she kinda sucks but in a soaking wet cat way (affectionate). she might be a plagiarist but she did it better anyway (rip tls123). she's got a lot of problems, but luckily most of them can be solved by the massive amount of money she makes as an author and celestial twitch streamer, money which she also uses to publically flex multiple times. the first to come to mind is the time she went on a date and he was talking down to her, so she pulled out the keys to her expensive car and said he didn't make enough money for her (or something similar, either way she basically told him to fuck off). the problems that can't be solved by money exist because she is living through the apocalypse, and she's still successful despite that. she started a cult at the start of the apocalypse to make use of her plagiarism, which i think was also just a way for her to survive. she's replacing her smoking habit with lemon candy and we love to see a positive change like that

Nadja of Antipaxos:

Effortlessly girlboss. Bisexual icon that makes me swoon and want to smooch her. Eats people and drinks their blood. She'd have me for dinner and forget about it the next day (valid). Absolute icon and an inspiration to us all

She just is THAT bitch. She does whatever the fuck she wants. Turn a rabdom girl she spent some time with into a vampire? Yeah sure. Make up a vampire nightclub and then steal her own money from it? You go girl. She is a girlbossloser, she doesn't give a shit about it, and then cries about being a girlbossloser. Just. Iconic.

[josephinekhawaja]

The most beautiful Kaya Scodelario looked in "The Gentlemen". And the overall scene is something that can actually be so personal. Him seeking her out. Like ending episode 6 thinking mom and dad (mum and dad) are going to war with each other...and then this...and then still the last two episodes being a roller coaster of whether or not they are going to be the literal death of one another. I have never had so much Good Stress from a ship that was Bad Stress when I was actually going through it. I aged and greyed so much through parts of this show, my poor heart.

To me, they have this low-key Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle dynamic (sooooo, Bobby Glass would be Carmine Falcone? I can work with that), which, given how BatCat is one of my lifelong OTPs, I am sure subconsciously pulled me in. Like posh boy that can get down and dirty (so his ski mask era would be his Batman era 😅😂 "We're not criminals, Freddy"), however much he sees himself holding a higher moral ground over the underworld he must move through. And working-class girl, street smarts, that can no less look "elegant and stylish" and navigate the upper echelons; but at the end of the day is who she is and matter-of-factly💋💋💋💋a career criminal. (Kaya honestly even works as a face claim for Selina though her eyes may be closer to blue than green. I mean, the Gunnverse has to cast a Catwoman eventually, depending on the age range of their Batman... I will just leave this here for you for free, James.)

And then Princess Roseanne, the Countess of Tournai, would be Talia Al-Ghul especially when Susie lets slip some jealous vibes towards her (made me think of Anne Hathaway's snark about Marion Cotillard in the last Nolanverse film...the characters, not the actresses). Though ultimately I do see Eddie and Princess Roseanne as Just Friends and no conflict in that direction unless further miscommunication. (So much Misunderstanding Drama in this series and between OTP. When a good romantic comedy is not a romantic comedy; or even entirely a comedy.)

But really it comes down to their having such an *easy partnership*, naturally yielding to one another when it comes to it. The way Susie has her way about things -- most notably when she invites herself to meet Stanley Johnston -- and Eddie smoothly submits to her without in any way seeming whipped. Like their actions are always in agreement, even when their words are not. Those two are more married than most married folks I have seen on screen. Should have blacked out in Nevada than on the estate.

(Also, gotta love how she has him saved in her phone as "The Duke". Like forget Bridgerton...I would watch an entire season of TheoKaya going at each other in, Bridgerton ways. As it stands with this though, I could see how the greater artistic choice might be to just make this a stand-alone, but I would be greedy for any subsequent season. This is already technically an expansion on a film -- that I have yet to see -- so Guy Ritchie does not mind a revisit. I could use any more of these 2 families who fully drive the story of this world.)

[reignof-fyre]

Book!Alicent: ambitious woman who wanted her son on the throne and emotionally and mentally abused a child to obtain her goals, began smear campaigns against Rhaenyra and rhaenyra's sons with absolutely 0 proof they were bastards, waved off Jace, Luke, and Joffrey's deaths as "bastard blood spilt in war" and wished rhaenyra would die in childbirth, demands lucerys' eye BEFORE Rhaenyra requests that aemond be questioned sharply about where he heard that jace, Luke, and joff were bastards

Show!Alicent: whitewashed victim-complex who had many traits that are, in actual fact, rhaenyra's. Boring. Bland. Religious fanatic.

Book!Rhaenyra: fully desires her birthright, the Iron Throne (and why shouldn't she?), delights in her feminism, never once wishes she was a boy to please her father, named heir at nine years old, adored by the smallfolk, best friends with laena velaryon, apple of her dad and uncle's eyes, is verbally abused and smeared by the greens because she has the audacity as a woman to know what she wants. Likely Jace and Luke are Laenor's with the Baratheon/Arryn looks because rhaenys has black hair and rhaenyra's grandfather was an arryn with brown hair *gasp* genetics is a thing

Show!Rhaenyra: indecisive about being heir, constantly wishes she was a boy, whitewashed and victimised and written blandly

Book!Daemon: morally grey anti-hero who loves his family and the targaryen Dynasty and does questionable things, loved by the smallfolk, adored by rhaenyra, raised a literal army to put his brother on the throne, had ample opportunity to overthrow viserys and never did, was thousands of miles away when rhea Royce died, loved laena, loved rhaenyra, loved his children, even rhaenyra's three sons, fought to the death for rhaenyra's claims

Show!Daemon: I am villain he-he

Book!Rhaenys: never held her not being named Queen against Rhaenyra, was disinherited by Jaehaerys, a bamf bitch who loved her family, openly and proudly supported rhaenyra, had black hair streaked with white

Show!Rhaenys: I shall take my anger out on an innocent party and hold onto my resentment for years and insist the succession crisis isn't my problem when my granddaughters are in danger by association because that makes sense

Book!Otto: plotted and schemed for years to have his blood on the throne and conspired with his equally conniving daughter to do so

Show!Otto: pretty much the same, yeah

Show!Aegon; drunk, sad-boy rapist chad

Book!Aegon: drunk, sad-boy rapist chad who refuses to take his sister's birthright

Show!Aemond: whitewashed victim sad-boy

Book!Aemond: cold, calculating sociopath who willingly and happily kinslayed his nephew Lucerys over an incident years in the past of his own making and went on to commit genocide in the riverlands and take Alys Rivers as his spoils of war

Show!Helaena: dragon dreamer baby girl

Book!Helaena; sorry, but she's actually pretty irrelevant but she's still a baby girl

Show!Daeron:...doesn't exist? Yet(?)

Boom!Daeron: just as sociopathic and murderous as aemond, also commits genocide by burning an entire village to the ground

Show!Laena: kind of just around???

Book!Laena: best friends with rhaenyra, also likely her lover, loved by Daemon and Rhaenyra both, did not die by ordering vhagar to burn her, actually died much more tragically, rider of Vhagar, all around bamf

[angelisverba]

crossfire

in which harry’s urge to party on his 28th birthday results in the harm of his precious girl, and there’s nothing to do but love her at the end of the night

word count: 10.1K

pairing: y/n x mafialeader!h

warnings: near death experience, use of knife and guns, mention of drugs, mentions of crime, explicit content, sex. do not read if you are opposed to anything mafia related, and don’t come at me for it if you don’t like it.

author’s note: this isn’t my best work, in my opinion. this piece felt like giving birth. it took me forever to get out, and i’ve had the worst writer’s block. in this fic, y/n literally lives for harry and it goes against some of my feminist beliefs, but i have to understand that this man literally saved her life. he is her everything. all that happened was meant to. hope you enjoy :D

There are a plethora of unspoken- but heavily enforced- rules in the mafia, and even more so in the morally grey organization Harry leads.

One of those being to show devout levels of respect for the women that are present or closely connected to him, especially y/n given that she is the boss’s girl. This respect, however, went beyond just being polite and allowing her to pass through the door while holding it open for her. It extended to reverence and borderline worshiping the ground she walked on. The men were expected to guard her before anyone else, even Harry. It was something he made sure to tell every single able-bodied, gun-carrying person in his frequently rotating circle of close employees.

Y/n knew this because she had overheard him talking to a neatly lined up row of brawny, tough men before entering a banquet with an extensive amount of businessmen whose affairs extended beyond the corporate world and into the organized crime arena Harry rules over.

“I don’t give a fuck if someone’s got a gun to my head, your first priority should always be y/n, do you understand me? Keep her safe, or kiss your fuckin’ life goodbye.”

His voice had been filled with a viciousness not directed to anyone there, but rather the lingering possibility of what could happen to her if they didn’t do as he said. If she ended up hurt. Or worse. Threats to her life were something that she still had trouble processing, and when these worries were voiced to her lover, he spent long moments with her in his lap, holding her, kissing her, assuring her that nothing would ever happen to her as long as he was there, and even if something were to happen to him, backup measures were set in place so ensure her safety. Soft murmurs against her skin and his fingers dancing across her shoulder blades talked her through her worries and shut each and everyone of them down with swift declarations.

When your partner was the leader of an organized crime ring, paranoia was something you had to deal with, and y/n didn’t always handle it well. Sometimes, an itchy, gnawing sensation akin to the hollow drop of in the stomach while on a rollercoaster, those few seconds spent waiting to reach a solid, stable point again, crept up on her before she had to leave the house. It was something her and Harry actively worked on, discussing in detail what was playing out in her mind, explaining to her what she should do if something ever went wrong (this was always one of two things. The first being to get behind him and let him take care of things, or defend herself, run away to safety or for cover), and even meditating together quietly in the sunroom facing their backyard or underneath a large willow tree outside. 

Paranoia was a nasty thing. 

And it was creeping on her the night of Harry’s birthday party. He had decided that his second to last birthday before thirty should be spent differently from his others- mostly because he liked to place importance on things that weren’t traditionally that important (because since when was twenty eight an important number?), and partly because in recent days Harry had been overcome with an urge to party. This need would manifest in music blaring from the house speakers at random moments at night- Kendrick Lamar, Drake, and plenty of other rap artists that would make your head bop if you were a twenty year old dude at a frat party. Occasionally, he would switch from the rap genre to disco or 80’s love ballads, and he’d grab y/n’s waist, pull her front to his, and stare deep into her eyes while singing along to I Want To Know What Love is. 

When questioned by y/n one night, he had said to her, “I just need to relax, baby. I haven’t partied in so long. I just watch the parties, and it’s fuckin’ sad.” 

And a few weeks after that, he made the decision to close one of his clubs for the night, invite all of his business partners, friends, and whatever family that would like to come, and ‘have a hangover before wakin’ up’. Harry had included her in much of the planning, and even let her take over some aspects as well (decorations, food, the guestlist) so that she felt comfortable and safe. The one thing he would not let her have control over was security, the music selections, and drinks. Together, they put together an unforgettable night. 

Only, it was unforgettable for all of the wrong reasons. 

The day has started off correctly. Harry was all smiles from the moment he bristled away from the clutches of sleep with the help of y/n’s lips around his cock, a murmur of ‘happy birthday, daddy’ thrumming against the sensitive underside of his dick and eliciting a warm spurt of cum to run down her throat. Of course, the favor didn’t go unreturned. As soon as his toes unclenched and his spine shrunk back down from the arch it was in, his fingers uncurled from the fist it had made in her hair and snaked around her waist to tug her up the front of his body. His prick was already hardening between them again as Harry ravaged her mouth, whispering how his first gift from her had been amazing and the second one was going to be even better. 

“Love your tight cunt in the morning, princess” 

“Is this all for me? Hmm? This is daddy’s pussy isn’t it, baby? Say it” 

“Stop fuckin’ squeezing me like that, little girl, or I’ll ruin you” 

Afterwards, they climbed out of bed with the goal of showering together, but Harry’s pawing hands crept between her thighs while he sat on the edge of the bed with her between his thighs and caressed her clit until she was shaking with the tremors of her third orgasm, pushing at his hand from being oversensitive. 

“No more, please,” she whispered, her words blending in with the woosh of air of her running breath. 

“I think y’can give me a few more, baby love. Get in the shower and I’ll show you.” He looked up at her from between his still-sleepy lashes, authority oozing from him even though he was still rumpled from sleep and sex. Any softness that may have possibly . The grip of his hand on her thigh was so strong that her skin was sure to be flushed when they were no longer on her, and the way he languorously looked at her with his desire so blatantly on display without shame sent shiver’s down y/n’s spine. 

Even though she knew she would end up crying legitimate tears of pleasure before they even got dry, y/n shyly stood on shaky knees and wobbled over to the bathroom, Harry following so closely she would feel the heat and thickness of him on her backside. A loopy smile graced her lips, her heart sick with love at the feel of his warm, heavy palm gliding softly over the curve of her waist- not quite guiding, just holding. 

“I can hardly walk,” y/n protested, her knees buckling to the point where Harry had to dip and catch her with an arm around her shaking body, “I don’t know if I can give you any more, H.” 

The tip of his nose grazes her bare shoulder as they walk through the door frame to the bathroom.  Or rather, Harry walks and she drags her feet between his own, the pleasure still running through her veins with the added, euphoric feel of his touch adding to her ability to do anything. “You will give me more, baby,” he said in a gruff voice, his lips moving against the back of her neck and he kissed his way to her ear, “y’know why?” 

When she didn’t respond immediately, he hummed against her skin, “hmm?” 

A moan left with her words. “Why, daddy?”

“Because I fuckin’ want more. Understand me?” 

Y/n murmured her response, words incoherent but meaning something along the lines of ‘yes, I understand’. He hauled her into the tub after setting the water to a warm temperature, and settled her between his knees, coaxing her to another climax with his fingers, and then twice on his cock before he released inside of her, tensing as he grunted how much he ‘loved her wet cunt’.

They didn’t have to be anywhere until later on that night at 6pm, so Harry had arranged a relaxed breakfast in their sprawling backyard where no one (expect the guards he trusted to stand at certain positions to keep watch) would disturb their moment of peace, moments that were so rare to come by in his world. His chef, Matilda, a sweet Italian lady that was Tony’s grandmother, worked depending on whether he or y/n didn’t feel like cooking, and considering that it was his birthday, and he wanted to spend every moment of his day with his hands all over his girl, while she gave him all of her attention, none of them would be cooking, and Matilda was downstairs cooking a mixture of Italian and American breakfast foods. 

There was an unusual exchange between them, given their roles for the day. One would expect that as the birthday boy, Harry would allow himself to be blindfolded, coddled, kissed, and spoiled. But no, instead, he was the one doing the blindfolding. A large, warm, and ever-present palm on y/n’s waist led her securely underneath the large arc leading from their kitchen to the gardens, where a temporary tent had been set up to cover the table where their steaming breakfast awaited them. 

“Harry, where are you taking me?” y/n asked, a breathy laugh tainting her weary sentence. Normally, when the red silk band found its way around her eyes, she was tied down to their bed with his tongue between her legs, and a haughty, mean air to his actions. This time, there was no dominant coldness, only warm chuckles saturated with a cheeky smile that promised a secret. 

“You never really are patient, are you, m’love?” He leaned in to press a smacking kiss on her neck, bared by the emerald green satin dress that swathed around her figure like a ribbon, layers of cloth accumulating at her navel before flaring down and collecting tightly at her lower back to display a clear outline of her bum. The shade was the exact color of his eyes, and she had chosen to wear it for that reason. “Just a few more steps. Almost there.” 

He didn’t say anything else that might reveal the surprise- his or hers, that was unclear- in hopes that she might smell everything first, and figure it out. 

“You’re keeping poor Matilda waiting for way too l- oh! Are we on grass now?” She exclaimed when her feet left the cool tile of their house and met the tickling cushion of well-trimmed grass. 

Harry grabbed her hand with his free one, and slowed his walk to accommodate her blind ones, “too many questions, tsk-tsk-tsk. Ask one more and that’s one less orgasm for you tonight.”

“I’ve already had too many this morning, daddy,” y/n responded with a teasing lilt in her tone, smiling in the direction she hoped was his face. 

“Watch the attitude, little girl,” he tapped her bum, his voice playfully dropping to a cautious tone before he stopped a few feet away from the breakfast spread before them. 

And waited.

Harry watched the way her nose crinkled as it crinkled at it worked, her brows dipping underneath the blindfold while her chin tipped upwards. Smelling the air, almost like a puppy. “Is that food?” She asked, turning to face him the best she could, and huffed through her nose, “can I take this off now?”

Finally conceding, Harry gently untied the loose knot he’d made at the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair as the material slipped away to smooth out any kinks he may have left behind. This was his favorite part, watching her features transform into one of delight- the various facets which he never got tired of creating because it was proof that he was capable of doing something good- before she eventually threw herself into his arms and demanded to be kissed. 

Allowing her to marvel at the gauzy fabric of the makeshift pavilion, waving in the wind with in calm turrets of white cotton, Harry smiled down at her, utterly in love as a soft, mushy feeling encompassed him. He loved making her happy. Sharing moments with her in which they were both consumed with such overpowering feelings that they both forgot where they were, who they were, and the only thing that mattered was that they were just two people loving each other. 

“D’you like it, angel?” He asked her, wrapping his arms around his arms around her waist and bending significantly in order to be able to rest his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling at the soft skin where before kissing it. “Had to make sure I distracted you enough so they had enough time to set this up,” lining up his mouth at her ear, “can y’pretty pussy forgive me?”

Y/n gasped before dissolving into a nervous fit of giggles, “I-... Harry, I don’t know what to-...”

“Just tell me how much you love it. Y’know how much I love it when you tell me how much y’love what Daddy does for you,” he wasted no time in filling in her trailed off silence, tracing the line of her jaw with the tip of his nose and allowing the hot whisper of his breath to heat her skin, encouraging her flustered state. He was vulgar, sinful, purposefully allowing the most inappropriate words to leave the cave of his mouth because he loved to watch her squirm, and know that he did that, too. 

Turning around in his embrace, she wrapped her arms around his neck shyly, flattening her palms on his chest before smoothing them up to twirl the hair at the back of his neck between her fingers. Her face was flushed, her lips twitching with a smile as she muttered, “it’s true.”

Grinning wolfishly, he claimed her mouth in a kiss and then took her hand to help her sit. 

They ate their breakfast the way they always did, sitting beside each other instead of across because Harry liked to keep his hand on her thigh when she was near, or anywhere on her, really. And he liked to feed her bits of his food, or take some from hers. Since it was his birthday, and he could do whatever he wanted, he decided that the best way to wrap up his meal would be with something sweet. 

Between her legs. 

The parts of their day between breakfast and the beginning of Harry’s party dropped by in a saccharine haze, sickeningly sweet as he opted to keep only the company of his girl, and save the birthday wishes from friends for later that night. Y/n’s heart was in a constant state of fluttering, never quite attached to the correct ventricle veins that maintained the organ securely in place. The voice in her head questioned if she should be the one on the receiving end of multitudes of affections- caresses, kisses, frequent heavy petting that left her writhing on a precipice that she never fell off of- given that it was not her birthday, but Harry’s. When she vocalized this concern, he merely licked into her mouth with such ardor that all of her doubts fled the recesses of her mind.

A few hours before they had to head out, Harry announced that he would get ready in their guest room so they ‘aren’t tempted to be late’, and ‘save the final fuck later so her pussy isn’t sore’. Though, and she would never admit this, y/n doubted that there would be anything of the sort happening later that night, if Harry got as hammered as he claimed he wanted to be. 

They got ready in their respective bathrooms, and y/n thought it was strange for there to be so much silence as she did her hair. The only noise she could hear was the one coming from her hairdryer, but, what Harry wanted today he would get. 

“Darling girl,” y/n heard him call from somewhere down the hall. “Where are you, baby?”

His steps were heavy with the official click of expensive Italian leather shoes, a gift that had arrived a few days ago from one of his business partners. When she questioned him about it, Harry liked to say that everyone whom he did business with was nothing more to him than a ‘shit sack of money to do business with’, and a look of distaste came over him that convinced her completely. Yet… a fond look came over him when he read the short- and y/n thought, quite mean- note that was attached to the elaborate wrapping.

You won’t ever do good things with shitty shoes. Try a pair made from my shoe maker, maybe things will turn around for you.

She had thought that business went well for him, given the life she was so lucky to have, and didn’t understand the meaning of the card until Harry hid his chuckle behind two fingers.

Pinching the bust of her dress and moving it side to side to get it to sit on her correctly, y/n was applying the finishing touches to her outfit, such as her shoes and jewelry. “In here, H!”

“Gotta get goin’, sweetheart. Y’almost ready to go?” Harry called from just outside the bathroom

“Just gotta put on my jewelry and I’m good,” Y/n picked up an earring and removed the back before leaning closer to the mirror.

“Here, let me,” Walking in, he strode right up to where her jewelry was and picked up the necklace she was going to wear, “hold y’hair for me, love. Yeah, jus’ like that.”

“Y’so fucking pretty,” he mumbled into her hair once the clasp was fastened, his hands smoothing over her shoulders and down her arms, pushing the outline of his dick into the crevice of her ass, “it makes m’cock hard.”

“Harry!”

He slapped her bum and left her with enough of a sting that she was sure he had colored her skin. “S’not what I am, t’you, is it little girl?”

“No, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Better. Now come on, or I’ll be late t’my own party.”

---

Never, not in any lifetime, did y/n think she would ever get to see Harry, in a private room with some old friends and the same partner that sent him the shoes, have a shot every time a certain word came up in a song, and taking turns switchings songs while someone else names the word. It was a game that had been created on the spot, after a margarita made by Fabio, an Italian mafia boss.

She wasn’t participating in the drinking that night, instead looking out for Harry with the help of Tony and a few other men who wouldn’t let her leave their sight- per Harry’s instructions, she was sure.  Not that he needed any looking out for. The man could certainly hold his own liquor, but y/n figured that it would be easier if everyone dealt with drunk men, instead of drunk women. She also didn’t feel safe, but would never ruin Harry’s birthday by saying that out loud.

“M’love, please try these margarita’s Fabio made. They’re better than the ones I make for you, n’I know just how you like them,” he said, mouth at her ear at just the right volume so he was heard over a Kendrick Lamar song. She could smell the sweetness of fruit, and the murky smell of tequila. It wasn’t one that she particularly liked, and given that she didn’t like how… grand this all was, she had to fight a pout.

Shaking her head, and smiling sweetly at him, she said, “M’okay, H. Maybe later.” She didn’t want to ruin his night because he hardly ever got to relax, and maybe that’s why this whole ordeal wasn’t sitting right with her. It wasn’t like him to be the one to let his guard down, not in the ‘field he worked in’, as he likes to put it.

He pressed a warm kiss against her temple, smothering his nose into her hair. With his empty hand he hooked the loose hairs around her ear and allowed his nails to lightly scratch the sensitive skin under her jaw before pinching her chin. Turning her head so she was looking right at her, he said, “alright, baby. Y’tell me if y’want something, yeah? M’right here f’you.”

Y/n nodded, and tried to relax in her seat, attempting to forget about the droopy loop in Harry’s eyes. There were armed men stationed at every entry and exit point in the transformed warehouse, but the amplitude of it all was disorienting. This was not his nature.

The four men- Fabio, a magician with margaritas and one of Harry’s Italian business partners, Lorenzo, Louis, Harry’s marijuana distributor in California, Dan, one of Harry’s financial advisors, and Heathrow, a burly, quiet man who didn’t speak much and helped Harry… attain information- all lounged in couches in the velvety room stocked with a fully functional bar which Fabio ran like it was what he did for a living instead of running a drug empire.

“Y/n, piccola biscotti, are you sure you don’t want a margarita? Not even a virgin?” Fabio pushed his white sleeves further up his arms and smiled toothily at her. He didn’t look very menacing that way, with his red curls beginning to spill out of the coif he had styled them into and falling in front of his eyes. The chip on his tooth gleamed with an outline made of gold.

Harry curled an arm around her and pulled her close while looking at her, waiting on her response. “Y’can say no, baby,” her murmured low enough for only her ears.

On any other day she would’ve said yes. But, today? Something was off, and she didn’t want to stomach anything.

“I’m okay, Fabio. Thank you, though.”

“Of course! Anything for Harry’s princesa,” he winked at her, and used a rag near his hand to wipe down the sparkling black marble counter. “So, birthday boy, ready to go out there and get your groove on?”

Harry, apparently too many cups in, threw his head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. It was a laugh y/n mostly heard when they were alone, and she had to hide the flush on her cheeks from her flustered state at his words by looking away. “You’re a corny ass motherfucker, y’know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, and I get high on my own supply, these are things we know already. Can we get out of this hole now? You-” Louis pointed a finger at Harry- “invited too many beautiful women for me not to do anything about it. So let’s get moving!”

Everyone but Harry stood up, and just as y/n was about to push off her seat, Harry tightened a hand on her thigh and waved everyone off, “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute, need a few with m’girl.”

They all shook their heads, Hearthrow mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘young love’ and followed the rest of the group out of the room. The music from outside pulsed inside the room when they opened the doors, and came to a mute when they closed them again. 

When it was just the two of them again, Harry hauled her into his lap and planted a kiss on her surprised lips. A hmph worked its way out of her chest, her hands flying like little birds between them until they settled on his chest. 

“Darling,” he said, still kissing her, “what’s wrong?”

“Wh- what do you mean, H? Nothing is wrong,” y/n, too caught up in the shock that Harry had read her so clearly, was unable to deliver a convincing response. Her hands crept closer to his neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. 

Reaching up to grab her hands, Harry shook his head and gave her a stern look. The giddy, inebriated man was gone, and her Daddy took his place. He gathered them on his chest, above his heart, “don’t lie to me, baby. You aren’t being yourself. Tell me, so I can fix it.” 

“I-” she began.

He squeezed her hands. “I don’t want to hear that you’re fine. Tell me the truth, or we’re leaving and I’m spanking your ass raw.” 

“I-” She started again, and she stopped when she saw Harry’s brow quirk into an arch, daring her to lie to him. A threat gleamed in his eyes, and she swallowed. “I just don’t feel really… safe.” 

Various emotions played across Harry’s face. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. A bit of anger, maybe? She can’t really pinpoint them because his eyes are flashing so fast, and then he drops his head back, the veins at the base of his throat pulsing as he inhales deeply and holds it for a few seconds before releasing it.

“Angel,” he rasps, his voice like crackling wood as he looks at again, “do y’know who I am?”

A scrunch appears between her eyebrows. Of course he knew who he was, she had dated him for years. “What are you talking about, H?”

“I mean, darling,” two large hands accompanied with a pinch of cold from the metal on his fingers cup her face, “that you must not know who I am if you feel this way. I’m the leading kingpin of this country’s drug distribution. I run the tightest system of organized crime, and I have more money than God. But first and foremost, baby, I am your lover. Everything I do is to make y’happy, understand me?” 

Harry is pinching face now because she had tried to look down at her lap while he was talking and he wanted to make sure they maintained eye contact while he talked. When he didn’t get an answer right away, he shook her lightly, growling, “Said, do you understand me, y/n?”

Pouty and a little teary eyed, y/n mumbled that she understood. 

“Now,” he released her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “There are more than eighty men in and outside of this building whose sole purpose of the night is to protect you. I have four concealed weapons on my person, and y’know I know how to use them, baby. There’s no need to be scared,” his breath, sweet from the smell of margaritas, becomes y/n’s next inhale the moment he drops his forehead onto hers, and it makes her lightheaded with love. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise” his nose is pressing against her with enough force to turn her head to the side, and when he presses his sticky mouth on y/n’s lips, she’s gasping. 

The sense of insecurity from before is gone the moment Harry grips her close, his half-hard length hot against the inside of her thigh, and the only feeling left of the heat from the drag of his tongue on her bottom lip, the sting of his palm when he claps her thigh and drags her impossibly closer only to mumble against her lips, “y’ready to go now, or do y’need more reassurance?”

She had no other choice but to say yes, because they would never leave if she said no. 

****

No one is passing around a bong, or snorting lines off the glass table in the middle of the lunge like the last few parties y/n went to before she met Harry. This wasn’t that kind of reunion. These were not people looking for a cheap high and a damage-filled nights. 

This kind of party, the one wrapped in red-velvet rope and bouncers checking to see who you knew in the VIP section, was the kind in which people knew how to party without all the excess drama. They were cool, with their whiskey and bourbon, martinis, gin and tonics. The hallucinogens were for all the new players out on the dance floor, creating the ruckus Harry wished to join just for the night. Maybe, y/n though, just to feel young again. But she would never say that to Harry, or out loud, because it wasn’t cool. 

She thinks that maybe Harry wanted to build his buzz a little bit more, because he sat in the center of the couch, the life of the conversation, with his arms curled protectively and securely around her. He’s laughing loudly, his hair is disheveled- strands leaking away from their normal swoop around his face to dangle in front of his eyes. The alcohol in his system is heating his bloodstream, and while it isn’t noticeable to anyone else, y/n can see the smallest hints of perspiration at the back of his neck, and she can feel the abnormal heat of his body seeping through his clothes. It’s making her a little sweaty, and if it weren’t for the smallest bit of doubt still left in there, she would have found an excuse to get up and use the bathroom. 

Louis was at their secluded bar, whispering into the ear of a blonde that was a few inches taller than him, and y/n watched as he coaxed a smile from her, and the nod of her head before they headed to the dance floor. She would more than likely end up there with Harry soon, and she was observing the atmosphere out there. 

The floor, which was made up of lit-up squares that changed in time with the music, was crammed with men and women who all had the same things in common: wealth, cars, social circles, the luxury brands that filled their closets. The women often made such exclusive conversation, that y/n would feel uncomfortable contributing because the only things she knew about luxury was whatever Harry gave her. It made her question her position in his social hierarchy. So much that she preferred the company of his men, the ones meant to protect her. 

Stationed at every entry and exit point where groups of men who flashed guns and ear pieces, they lined the floor above the dance floor, glaring down at everyone and smiling at her when they caught her eyes. 

Y/n was smiling back at Tony, when Harry tugged at her earlobe with his mouth, asking for her attention. 

“Who are you giving those pretty smiles to, angel?” She heard the casual tone in his voice, the playful light induced by the alcohol in his system, but also the dangerous edge that said he wasn’t fucking around. “You should be giving them to me. It’s my birthday.” 

Was he… mad?

Y/n’s eyes dropped down to her lap, where Harry’s palm was spanning on the top of her thigh, pressing into the skin that wasn’t covered by her dress, “Just saw Tony, H. Was saying hello,” she said, hoping it was loud enough to be heard above the thrum of music. 

His mouth still at her ear, body now fully pressed against hers, he chuckled darkly along with his words, “why don’t you say hello to Daddy, hmm?” 

Retreating from her so she could see the wolfish smile on his face, the expectant raise in his eyebrows. It was enough to make her smile, a flush on the apples of her cheeks as she shook her head at him. 

In the middle of mouthing, a retort, collective screaming erupted somewhere in the vicinity, followed by gunshots and the scattering of people. 

The hair at the back of y/n’s hair raised, and in her gut she knew that something was wrong. It was the pitch in screams, the look on people’s faces. But one glance at Harry said that he thought everyone was still partying. He didn’t tense. 

No.

He laughed.

And he was still laughing when something cold and unmistakably dangerous pressed on the back of y/n’s head. She stilled, stiffened, and briefly she thought- this is what it must be like when you’re dead- but all of it vanished when a man came from the shadows, a gun poised and settled at the back of Harry’s head. Only then did Harry act, his gun somehow in his hand in less than a second. 

The music stopped. Someone was wailing. Several guns clicked. Locked. 

“Not a smart move, Styles. Make another move, and six guns will blow your brains out,” the man, tall and sickly looking with a scarred face. His clothes looked cheap, his hands smeared with dirt. 

Y/n’s stomach roiled, and her face felt cold, her hands moist. Behind her, the person with a gun to her head moved the barrel to her temple, wrapped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her away from the circle in Harry’s arm, the burly arm roughly constricting her airway so that her hands flew up to claw it away. Her first instinct was to gasp as she struggled, but y/n also knew that she needed to preserve as much oxygen as she could because she had no idea if the guy choking her would stop anytime soon. Confused about what was happening and who this man was, y/n looked to Harry for some kind of direction, and found that he was already watching her with the scariest look she had ever seen him wear. 

Eyes that were normally emerald green were obscured by darkness, a pitch black that reflected his mood. His jaw was clenched, and so was the fist around his gun, knuckles white from the grip he had on it. Y/n recognized his tense posture, back straight as he faced her, his other hand splayed on the back of the couch, twitching. His gun was pointed at legs, still from the man’s order. His eyes were locked on hers, unflinching 

Trying to tell her something. 

She recognized the look. It was the same one- a more feral version of it- he would give her when he was two seconds away from throwing her over her lap and spanking her until his handprint was a permanent tattoo on her bum because he had instructed her to remain motionless and she was squirming. He was telling her not to move. 

“What the fuck kind of birthday gift s’this, Mr. Fisher?” Harry asked, his voice a deadly threat. A cat who was still as a statue, and the only part that would alert you of his oncoming pounce was the twitching tail. Harry’s thrumming fingers on the couch cushion. 

Y/n kept watching him all the while he turned his head to look at the scrawny man. Fisher. She didn’t recognize the name, but from the nature of the situation she assumed that he was a rival, and time had come for her to get wrapped up in some kind of mess.

Harry kept her as isolated from his work as he could, but they both knew deep, deep down that one day this would happen. That gut feeling that she had at the start of the night wasn’t a premonition, it was that minuscule sense of insecurity that had always been there when it came to the nature of her life. She didn’t hate Harry, or love him any less. 

She just knew this would happen. 

The funny part is, she wasn’t even scared of dying. It wasn’t even the thought on the forefront of her mind. Instead, she was thinking of Harry. How was he going to get out of this? How was he going to get them both out of this. She wanted to make sure she was in tune with him, that she was in on his plan so she wouldn’t mess it up and they would make it out alive, but what was the plan?

Fisher laughs, “the best kind, Mr. Styles. The one that ensures you won’t have any more birthdays. Now, I’ll let you pick who goes first. You?” He jerks the gun in y/n’s direction, and a definitive click rings above her left ear. “Or the bitch?”

“Don’t fucking call her that you peice of shit,” Harry all but snarled, his chest rising with tension from his restraint. Y/n wanted to tell him that he wasn’t being particularly smart with his words, if his statements only protected her honor and no her life, but she only gulped.

Fisher laughed. “Drop the gun, or the girl goes.” He moved his thumb, and a bullet locked into place. “Now.”

He glanced at her, his look hard as his jaw ticked. Resigned, Harry threw the gun down. “What do you want?” 

“I came to eliminate the competition, and that’s what I’ll do. But first, I think I’ll enjoy watching you watch her die, just how you enjoyed taking everything from me”

“You’re a bad businessman, Fisher. Not my fault, and definitely not hers either. She knows nothing!”

“You’re a bad businessman, Fisher. Not my fault, and definitely not hers either. She knows nothing!” Harry’s shaking now, veins on his neck protruding. A ticking time bomb. 

“Am I supposed to believe that?” He walks over to her and caresses her face with a rough, dirty hand. “You spend every minute that you are not working attached to her hip, and you’re telling me she has picked up nothing? Liar.” Y/n moves her face, desperate to get away from the man, but he only jerks her roughly. “C’mon, gorgeous. If you tell me something good, I’ll let you sit in my lap, too.”

She can’t think of anything to say but, “I don’t want to sit in your lap.” 

“Fine.” Fisher’s mouth presses into a line, and he releases her, turning and waving his gun in the air. “I’ve given both of you a chance. Do it, Richard.” 

Her mouth moved, her eyes locked onto green emeralds that were less panicked than hers. I love you.

And blinked.

Gunshots rang as quickly as they did the first time, and Harry was a mere smear of motion, exploding with the energy simmering in him before. Someone wrenched the man holding y/n, and by consequence, she was jostled too. There was a flash of pain on the underside of her chin because she hadn’t been directly out of the knife points touch when her handler was yanked from her, and there was her heart pounding pounding pounding because everything was moving too fast, the lights weren’t bright enough, and she couldn’t keep track of who was good, who was bad. Another gun went off mortifyingly close to her and several hands grabbed at the fabric at her ankle, waist, and hips, and there was snarling. 

Get your hands off her.

Fucking grab her.

Don’t let them out of your sight.

The arm that wrapped around her waist encased her, and a part of her calmed because it was familiar. 

“‘Got you, baby,” Harry rasped at her ear, and her heart slowed. He had managed to snag a gun, probably one of the many hidden on his person. Her head snapped to look at him, and even though he was speaking to her, his gaze was all over the room, gun raised and held near his head, pointing up as he searched for an exit, “everything’s gonna be fine, just do as I say. Nod if you understand,” he looked at her then. Y/n nodded, her face like a ghost’s. “We are going to run. Now.”

He half-hauled her as they moved, shooting at people that turned corners a mere second after Harry held his aim. Y/n didn’t want to look. It was grotesque, jarring. A little eye-opening, as this was the reality of Harry’s job. But she had to keep moving, had to try extra hard to keep pace with Harry, so she kept her gaze forward. 

“Boss!” 

They were at an intersection of halls. And at the end of the one on their right, standing in the doorway of an exit, was Tony. Harry let y/n go so that she could run ahead, and he lagged behind her to shoot at men that were coming from the other two halls. 

It was almost as if he read her mind, because as her steps slowed and her head started to move Harry shouted, “Don’t look back, y/n!” 

But it was too late. It was too late because there was someone behind him, and his finger was- 

there was a bullet and-

“Harry!” 

Y/n ran. Not the direction Harry wanted her to. Launched herself before Harry even had the chance to open his arms and catch her but it was fine because that was the point. 

To get him out of the direct line of the bullet’s flight. That was her only thought. Then of course, there was the thought of living without him when he had saved her, but it was fleeting. Her heart was pounding, her ears ringing, and it was the first time that she realized how close life and death was for them. The look in his eyes when she ran towards him said it all. A repetition of holy fuck holy fuck holy fucking shit in tune with the incantation of her breath and heart.

She heard him curse and embrace her as they landed. His arm moved at her side, and another bullet went off. His, she presumed by the way his arm recoiled. Her eyes closed shut and she gripped him, afraid of moving because of the unknown everything coming at them. Harry picked them both up, and shook her, shouting something but y/n’s ears were still ringing. She only saw his finger pointing, and Tony at the end of the hall with the door wide open. 

Y/n began running again, if the way Harry gently pushed her was any indication of what he wanted her to do.

Tony caught her rattled body, muttered an apology and threw her into a vehicle. Then he ran to the front seat and started the car. 

Y/n, concerned for her lover’s well being croaked, “what about-”

Tony shook his head as a way of silencing her. “He’ll get here, miss. Just give him a second.” 

A few seconds later that same door slammed open again, a panting Harry emerging and jumping into the car. 

“Drive. Drive to whichever safe house y’can think of, and don’t stop.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Fuck,” Harry swore. His hands fumbling like a flock of birds taking off, all over her. “Fuck, darlin’ are you okay?” 

Y/n nodded, but couldn’t stop her lip from trembling, her hands from reaching out to him. Harry clutched at her again, moving her to sit on his lap and with a hand at the back of her head, led her to rest her forehead on the crook of his shoulder. I love you’s and I’m sorry’s got lost from his mouth in her hair, and the silent tears that fell from her eyes dribbled down to be what cleaned the cut on her chin. 

The rest of the car ride was a blur. Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe her eyes were closed and her thoughts were too wild to comprehend. Maybe they walked out at some point, into a house hidden in shrubbery and an old man who unlocked another hidden door for them, all while Harry and Tony kept looking behind their shoulders and maybe they split ways to sleep and reconvene in the morning. 

Maybe Harry kissed her and kissed her as they walked somewhere, nearly crying. Maybe they were her tears he tasted. Maybe.

She didn't know.

There was only this. The tumbling of their bodies into a room. Minds in a mess of selfish possessiveness. 

Harry, harry, harry.

Y/n, y/n, y/n. 

They were in a trance, animals in need of preserving their life and survival, hormones awry with the need to touch- skin to bare skin. With every murmur of the other’s name, Harry throwing in a pet name every other call and y/n whispering the lone Daddy, an article of clothing melted from their bodies by the heat of their hands that roamed over their frames. Y/n hands like butterflies on his broad shoulders, Harry’s fingers like a hazardous python lazing across her navel and up, up, up to her breasts and shoulders. 

Dancing around each other, they draped across the bed, and y/n was incoherent. She wasn’t making any sense because her mind couldn’t keep up with her mouth, it was too busy sending instructions to the body parts beneath Harry’s touch, urging the skin to become pliant beneath him, to push up against him. To spread her thighs to accommodate the width of his hips. Only dimly did she come to register his rough words spilling with urgency as he lined himself at her soaked pussy, spoken like commands and prayers, begging. 

“Never want to see you do that shit again, darling girl. So what if I’m dead? If you had died, my world would have lost it’s sun. I would have lost my God, y/n. I would have been miserable without you. My sweetest honey, my softest little dove,” he pressed a reverent kiss on her temple, his voice breaking with emotion, “you can live a life without me, but I cannot live a life without you, okay?” Harsh breaths broke across her mouth and chin, the raw tone of voice seeping like honey in tea and dissolving sluggishly into her skin. Y/n was lightheaded, her eyes closed and the back of her head rubbed loose figure eights into the pillowcase. 

And then it was like a switch flipped inside him, and he was stern. Serious. Like he needed her to understand. Did she- “understand what I’m sayin, baby? Hmm?” Harry slowly pushed into her, the head of his dick stretching and filling her with every inch of movement. They can never seem to not want this- to not want sex. Being connected this way was something they wanted all the time, so they did. All the fucking time. Yet, y/n couldn’t seem to get used to his size, the way he pressed up against her walls like he would make her burst apart like a fragile glass compartment if he was any bigger. 

Physically, y/n couldn’t manage to say that she understood, and maybe she didn’t really. Too much had happened that day, the shooting, the near end of his life, their near separation, and all she wanted was release. She wanted it so bad that the ache of it was starting to hurt. 

So, she just nodded, her eyes shut and her body arching underneath him. Against him. Trying to get him to move because every part of her was on fire and she desperately wanted him to put it out. 

But y/n should know better. Harry didn’t come to play. It was the reason why he led a drug ring so successfully. Because everyone listened to him when he asked for something, or else they would face the consequences. And she was not exempt from those expectations. Especially not her. 

Twin pricks of pain sprouted on her chin where Harry held her still, expectantly, his green gaze boring into hers with a single cocked brow as he waited for her to correct herself and allowing her reprieve from a future punishment. His hips stilled, halting their leisurely inch towards bottoming out, abs flexing as they worked to both, stop his movements, and hold his upper body above her with the help of his arm. His knees were planted beneath her thighs, her legs thrown over his so that she had no way to back way or shut him out, but she was able to tighten her hold around his hips and attempt to hike herself up to encourage him to continue fucking into her.  But, the moment she thrust her hips upward, Harry pulled back so that his cock left her completely, remnants of her arousal glistening on his tip and on where he rubbed against the skin below his belly button. 

“Answer me,” the two words were scarily devoid of emotion, the blank slate of his voice not reflecting the stern set of his face, with eyebrows dipped low enough to crinkle his forehead. The set of his mouth and a strained vein in his neck didn’t even begin to bring alive the desperate animal that prowled the cage of his ribs, stalking nothing but restless from the previous threat. Some part of him was still frantic, anguished and overcome with the need to possess her, own her, as if the pleasure he gave her would equate to the nurturing aspect of providing safety and trust. Harry felt as if it was all his fault, and the only way to convey how sorry he was, how much he loved her, was through showing her. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, hips dropping back into the mattress defeatedly. Her nails dragged up his biceps, attempting to calm herself and get a reaction out of it. Y/n was also... lost in the muddle of feelings that were thundering in her system. Fear, both for her life and Harry’s, the primal instinct to surround herself with him, to be consumed by him so that his imprint will stay on her forever, so that even if they were to be separated, reminders of him would be forever on her. 

In her. 

When her eyes began to droop closed from the overwhelming nature of her need, the painful edge of it making her feel helpless, Harry jostled her chin softly and asked, “yes, who?”

“Yes, daddy,” the words were out of her mouth before she could even think about it. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Harry’s voice was once again filled with sensual aggression, lips curling around his words in a near snarl that made her breath hitch at the bottom of her throat and her nails dig into the thickness of his biceps that strained with the force of his thrust. He sunk into her in one fluid movement, bottoming out without allowing y/n to adjust and causing a long quivering moan to creep from her mouth. Millions of tiny blossoms of pleasure spread on her skin and bones like a droplet of water being absorbed, growing in size and collecting to join in one massive blanket of euphoria. 

Oxygen was missing from her next inhale, but y/n didn’t care. In fact, it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She always needed more when it came to Harry, even when she knew that more meant possible breaking like the piece of glass he thought she was. The tips of her breasts scorched a trail on his chest when she arched off the bed asking for, “more, please. It’s not enough, daddy. I need more.”

Harry chuckled, a dark, deep noise that vibrated around her and tickled her skin. He sat back on his haunches, still deep inside her, and slid his hands underneath her knees and pulled them up together, so that they lay over his shoulder. The repositioning tightened the space between her thighs, and heightened the full feeling that came with having him buried completely in her pussy. Shakily, because y/n knew this position was dangerous for both of them, she dug her nails into his flexing thighs that were right beneath her legs, waiting for him to move. Waiting for more. This was a position they had only tried twice before. The first time, she had asked him to stop because the angle was too much, the second time she had received as a punishment that ended with her screaming in pleasure and by the end of it, limp and trembling on the bed and Harry kissed her all over and wiped himself of her with a washcloth. 

“This is gonna hurt, little girl,” stroking a hand down from her ankle to her knees, thighs, and up her stomach to twist her nipple between his fingers, Harry smirked down at her, his expression containing no humor. “Remember that you asked for this. M’only giving you what you want,” taking hold of her in the crease where her legs met her hips, he pulled out halfway and pushed back into her, not gently, just to watch her face contort into one of pain and pleasure. 

Y/n threw her head back and mumbled something incoherent, her eyes shutting and neck straining from the sensations that were taking over her being. Vaguely does she register something along the lines of ‘yes, yes, yes, more’, but it all withers into the red-hazed tangible love that drowned all of the receptors in her neurological region. The deep, erratic breaths pulling through her lungs sunk the sink around her ribs and only added to the crazed air around her. She was taken by what Harry was giving her, and Harry was chasing after her attention, grinding himself down so that his balls sat on the crevice of her ass and the tip of his dick stroked something deep between her. Anything and everything around them was lost. The only thing that mattered was them. Him. Her. The way it felt as if Harry was intruding in the most delicious way possible, as if every thrust was the last one she would be able to take from him. 

“This is what you want, darlin’ angel? Am I takin’ care of you right?”

“Yes. It’s so good, H. So good, daddy.” 

“I’m the only one that’s going to take care of you this way, baby. The only one who knows that this-'' he made as if he was going to retreat from her, drawing himself nearly all the way out before abruptly pounding back into her so her ass sunk down into the mattress. A cry escaped her when the force of Harry’s movements reached a notch inside her, and an even longer, broken whimper when he made small plunges into her so that the head of his cock repeatedly rubbed against her g-spot, “-is the place that makes you purr like a little fuckin’ kitty. Did you really think I would leave y’so easily, darling? Think I would leave your cunt aching with no one to take care of it, hmm? It’s always going to be-” his hips retreated, and slapped back into her, the force of his thrust stealing her breath,“-me, darling. I’m right here and I’m-” the next tilt pressed her hips deep into the mattress, and her nails dug into his skin. Her breath kept escaping her because her lungs couldn’t keep up with the symphony of sensations that was racking through her body, centering where they connected. He plunged into her again,“-never leavin’ you.”

Y/n wasn’t sure what was coming out of her mouth, only that her mouth was dragged open in a scream- she didn’t know if it was silent. She couldn’t focus on anything else but Harry’s grunts as he gyrated his hips against hers, no longer moving in and out of her but rather, smothering his skin against hers, trying to bury deeper into her drilling against her core that was filled with him. It felt as though he was invading the deepest parts of her, like she wouldn’t be able to feel right without him inside her again. The head of his cock was a constant pressure on that bundle of nerves, and he was rubbing against her with such force that they were slowly moving up the bed. His hands let her legs fall apart, and they curled around her hips with his guidance. She gasped at the sudden change, the opening of pussy that allowed him to somehow drive deeper than before, and she moved her hands from the backs of his thighs to his biceps, which came to cage her and Harry braced his hands beside her head. Knocking his nose against hers, Harry licked into her mouth before nipping her lips and devouring her in a kiss.

A distraction, she realized, because he began that punishing pace again.

“Daddy, please. Please, I want- I- I- I need-,” she began to whimper, so lost in her pleasure that kept building, and building, and building, but wouldn’t drop over that precipice. Dimly, it occurred to her that she didn’t know what she needed. Every thought escaped her with every drag of Harry’s cock. He moved slowly now, so that his abdominal muscles clenched and unclenched as his hips flexed, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her stutter.

“Baby can’t think right now, is that it?” His thumb traced her bottom lip, and her tongue lazily came out to lave at it. It was exactly what he wanted her to do, and as soon as she did he roughly hooked her chin open. “Want me to do all the work for you? I wasn’t lying when I said I knew that your sweet little pussy needs, baby. Now open. Wide.”  He waited for her to open her mouth, “leave it open. If you close it, you don’t get to cum. Understand?”

Y/n nodded, the need to cum shutting down all of her rational thinking. Her nerves were fraying, the rub of silk against her body every time he thrust into her was driving her insane. Saliva pooled in her mouth at the sight of Harry above her, his mouth nearly in a snarl as he focused on her, eyebrows pinched and his emerald eyes nearly black. He withdrew and began fucking into her with more force than speed, earning a breathless gasp from her each time they connected.

Then, when her head started to tilt back and her thighs were straining with tell-tale quivers, Harry dipped down and collected the saliva in her mouth with his tongue moaning deeply as the taste of her exploded across his taste buds, and spit it back into her own mouth. He felt his balls draw up at the way she immediately swallowed, and her face pinched with a pained look. Her pussy tightened around him like an unforgiving vise, and a cry left her as she let her orgasm rake through her body.

Harry continued his thrusting, allowing his own climax to pour over him as he buried his dick in her. It exploded over him, on him, in him, and all of the emotions he had felt that day came to their culmination, releasing in resolution. He was with his love, he was there, and they were sharing a beautiful thing. His arms held him above her quivering form, her pussy still milking him and broken little sobs were seeping out of her lips, tears sliding down to the pillows from the corners of her eyes.

She felt it, too. They were tender, tethered to each other and overwhelmed with each other.

“I know, my love,” Harry whispered to her, breathless. A grunt left him as he dipped his head down to her neck and kissed her collarbone, her jugular, and the spot behind her ear before nibbling on her lobe. “I love you, y/n. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He grabbed her limp hand, and placed it over his heart, “You live here, do you understand me? I don’t have a heart, darling, I have you. You’re my reason for breathing, for the blood in my veins. C’mon now, no more tears, little girl.”

Y/n was whimpering, keening into his touch as he wiped her tears away with his fingers. They had twisted to their sides, still connected. She felt soft. Not vulnerable, but naked in the best way. Like he was looking into the deepest parts of her soul, and so was she. She felt like wispy pink skin, tinted with the cold air. Inexplicably, y/n had fallen in love with Harry all over again. Like she had met a new version of him at that moment. She wanted to tell him that her life was as long as it was because of him, but all she could manage was a weak, wet, “I love you so much, Harry.”

They fell asleep that way, still tangled in one another, grasping each other’s hands. Tangled, in more ways than one. 

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 3

You can find Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 4 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Word count: ~6k

Rating: Mature

A/N: Some use of Y/N and Y/L/N. Feral and jealous Possesive!König. LOTS of smut and tooth-rotting fluff! Literally all smut and feels. Reader is still morally grey and morally questionable. Reader has confidence issues that may be expanded upon later. Continued COD and military inaccuracies galore. Once again written in less than 24 hours so please forgive any mistakes! Also, I have my own canon idea of what König looks like and I’ll post a lil sketch later!

TW: Descriptions of stalking and obsession, hurt/comfort. Low self-esteem, self-confidence issues, allusion to past trauma. SMUT! Oral, fingering, rough sex, dom/sub tones, mild choking, size kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, and creampie. LOTS of emotions and feelings. Pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m STILL a lame monolingual American, and STILL no beta because we die like jackass Graves.

Crappy Translations:

Maus - Mouse

Mein schatz - My darling

Meine leibling - My love

Süßes mädchen- Sweet girl

Scheiße - Shit

Du könntest die Welt in die Knie zwingen, mein kleiner Maus, und du merkst es nicht einmal - You could bring the world to its knees, my little mouse, and you don't even realize it

The moment König shut the door to his room, you were thrown up against the wall. He didn’t give you even a second to react before his mouth was on yours, biting and licking as if he’d die without it. 

“K-König,” you breathed.

You were planning on pushing him away, demanding he talk about the admission from before, but the instant your palms touched his chest you lost all your fight. God, his muscles were tight beneath your hands. All you could think about was how good it felt to lay on that solid chest, how your nails dug marks into the skin there mere months ago. He chose that exact moment to slip his leg between yours and the height difference was great enough that you were pressed tight against the wall by his massive thigh.

“Oh fuck!” 

He let out a low groan as he lifted his leg again, one hand sliding down to your hip to pull you into the motion. Your eyes rolled back as a desperate noise left your throat, high and whiny. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d dreamed about riding his thick thighs and it was even better than you’d imagined, his tense muscle pressing in all the right ways. 

“I’ve missed hearing those beautiful noises, mein schatz,” he hummed lowly, “My imagination and hand were a terrible substitute.”

If you weren’t giving in already, that right there would have done it. Hearing him admit that he jacked off to the thought of you… oh, it checked all the right boxes. The mental image of his in his bed, jerking his cock and whispering your name nearly sent you over the edge. 

“I- I still- Fuck, I still want an- an explanation,” you whimpered between moans. 

König chuckled low and deep, the vibrations rumbling through your chest as he set a devastating rhythm against your core. Each bounce of his leg pushed the seam of your jeans against your clit in the most tantalizing way.

“I will tell you everything your little heart desires,” he promised, leaning down until his lips were pressed against your ear, “After I get to taste that sweet pussy and feel you come for me, ja?” 

A little gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you. Deft fingers began undoing your jeans while his other hand slid up under your sweater, lifting it inch by inch as he ghosted over every dip in your abdomen. When his lips came to press little kisses along your soft belly, you instinctively tried to wrench away, only to be strongarmed into staying right where you were. God, as much as you were self-conscious about your extra plush, he made it almost bearable. 

“Mmm, I never thought I could miss something so badly,” he groaned.

Your cheeks flushed under the praise. Careful not to lift his hood too high, you slipped under the material and ran your fingers along his jaw, shivering as the prickly stubble scraped across your palm. It was insane how comfortable and easy it was to fall back into this, how much you were willing to look past just to have these little moments.

“Me either,” you admitted meekly, heart lurching in your chest at the look in his eyes as they met yours. 

As he tugged on your jeans, you lifted your hips and helped wiggle them down, letting out a sigh of relief once the constricting fabric went flying across the room. In the next breath, he had your sweater bunched up over your chest while pressing open-mouthed kisses over your thighs. 

“Shirt and bra off.”

You quickly complied and were rewarded with the most animalistic growl, one hand covering your breast while the other lifted your leg. The sudden shift nearly sent you off balance but König was quick to catch you and press you back against the wall. Once sure you were stable, he wasted no time hooking a finger into your panties just to jerk them aside and dive in without preamble.

“Jeeessuusss, wa-warning next time!” you gasped out weakly. 

His muffled laugh was the only response you got, tongue busy tracing gentle circles around your clit while his fingers pinched and squeezed your sensitive nipple. Fuck, you’d almost forgotten how good he was at this. Brows furrowing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a little thump and sunk your hand into his short hair. It was hard to believe you were finally getting to feel him again, to have him worshiping you between your thighs like a man possessed. He knew just what to do, how to flick his tongue at the perfect pace to have your sanity cracking at the edges and your body bowing to his whims. 

“F-Fuck! Plea-Please, more,” you whimpered, tugging at his locks as you trembled against him. 

He said something but you couldn’t hear him considering he didn’t even bother leaving your pussy for half a second. It didn’t really matter anymore once you felt his hand trail from your thigh to your cunt. Your breath caught in anticipation while he slid a single digit up and down your slit, collecting your arousal leisurely until finally- finally- he pushed into your core. 

You nearly fell then, body instinctively arching into him and his touch, but, as always, he was solid and secure, keeping you safe while never breaking his rhythm. Having even just one of his fingers in your again was like heaven. The few times you’d gotten yourself off, your fingers were nothing compared to his. He easily reached that sweet spongy spot along your wall that drove you crazy and knew exactly how to stimulate it.

“Have to work you open slowly, süßes mädchen, wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he purred softly.

You stupidly nodded in agreement but then, all of a sudden, he froze, leaving you whining desperately. 

“Wha- why?” you groaned. 

When you looked down, you found his bright blues narrowed, looking up at you in a way that you couldn’t decipher. That was… concerning. All the lust evaporated from your mind, leaving you concerned and afraid as he held your eyes intently.

“König, what’s wrong?”

“Nobody else has touched you, have they?” he hummed, a hint of danger lacing his tone. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, earning a glare from the Austrian. 

“What’s funny?” 

“König, no, there hasn’t been anybody else,” you explain softly, tracing your hand from his hair down to his lips, flushing when you found them wet, “How could there be? I told you you ruined me for other men.”

“Meine leibling.”

There were so many emotions in those two words. 

You had to smile as you replied, “You really have to teach me German so I know what you’re saying to me.”

His hand wrapped around yours and pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm with a little murmur. 

“It means my love,” he explained.

Suddenly, it felt hard to breathe. Why was he so damn sweet? It was hard to bear, and yet you didn’t want him ever to stop. Before you could respond, he buried his face between your thighs with a growl and thrust two fingers into your heat. 

The world blurred behind tears as you focused all of your attention on that deft slick muscle flicking your sensitive nub like a toy. Just when you thought it couldn’t get better, he finally started finger fucking you, curving his digits to push against your g-spot with every thrust. The pressure was almost unbearable, the need to come stringing your entire body tighter than a bow. You were almost sad with how fast it was coming to an end because you could honestly live with the feeling of his mouth on you for the rest of your life.

“Oh! Oh fuck, König, pleasepleaseplease-”

Your voice cut off with a sharp keen when your climax hit suddenly. Slamming your head back against the wall with parted lips, you tried to moan or gasp or do anything other than scream silently at the ceiling but the pleasure was stifling. You could feel the breath he took in as you pulled him closer to your cunt by the roots of his hair. It felt like you’d been edged for the past two months and now, that he was finally allowing you bliss, it was too much. An almost psychotic giggle escaped as his name finally fell from your lips in a cry that you’d most likely regret in the morning. If he had neighbors, they were no doubt getting a surprise X-rated show tonight. 

Ever the giver, he didn’t pull away until you were whimpering and pushing him, every stroke of his tongue like a double-edged sword; pain and pleasure perfectly rolled into one. The instant he was on his feet, you jerked him down into a hungry kiss, moaning lewdly into his mouth as you tasted your arousal on his lips. 

“Need to see you, please!” you begged as you tugged at his shirt. 

It took him next to no time to comply, seemingly just as excited and only slowing down to ensure his hood wasn’t coming off before he was completely naked. Despite having just come, you could feel your body craving his in the most intimate ways. Fuck. He could make millions being a model. There was no denying he was the embodiment of masculinity, every muscle on his body thick and solid with a testament to how hard he worked his body. Before he could do anything else, you reached out for him. Your fingertips traced invisible lines across every dip and rise of his muscle, paying special love to each scar that adorned his body, lips following everywhere your eyes went. He was trembling, obviously tense but willing to let you worship every inch of his skin. 

A quiet moan of appreciation slipped out as you kissed down his adonis belt and traced your tongue around the base of his cock. He was still fucking huge, of course. At first, you’d thought maybe it was the newness of the situation that made him seem so big in your eyes but there was no denying his size with it right in front of you. Just the sight made your cunt throb in need. As you went to touch him, he caught your wrist in a vice grip. 

“If you touch me up anymore, I’m going to come and I refuse to do that before I feel you around me,” he hissed. 

Biting your lower lip, you nodded in understanding, letting him guide you to your feet silently. 

“Mein Gott, I need to be in you now.”

Without warning, he picked you up onto his waist and carried you over to the bed, tossing you gently onto the mattress before climbing over you. Another biting kiss left your lips so swollen and sore that you knew you’d have to come up with some lie for it tomorrow; And for any other marks that might appear on your body.  

“Turn over,” he instructed, pulling your thighs to the side. 

You did as asked and let him position you how he wanted, which turned out to be face down ass up. Big hands palmed your cheeks with a throaty groan, squeezing and spreading, leaving you wide open to his gaze. It was embarrassing to be so exposed but the little noises he made in response were encouraging.

“Du könntest die Welt in die Knie zwingen, mein kleiner Mus, und du merkst es nicht einmal,” he sighed quietly, “You want to know more, ja?”

Reality settled in around your lust-addled brain for just a moment but it was shoved quickly aside when he gently began to push three fingers in. 

“F-Fuck!” 

“It started six months before we met, when we were contracted to gather intel on Shadow Company,” he explained slowly as he stretched your walls thoroughly.

You almost told him you didn’t care about it at that point but there was still some semblance of a brain in your nervous system so you let him talk. 

He let out a little breath then continued, “I’m really not exactly certain as to why but, when I saw your picture, you called out to me; so beautiful and bright, the exact opposite of everything I’ve grown used to seeing. That sweet little smile and those cherub cheeks, so full of life and kindness. And then I read on, learned more from your file about your past before joining Graves. You’ve experienced so much destruction, mein schatz, and yet you still have the light in your eyes. I told myself to let it go but I couldn’t. Not after seeing that.”

He paused as he shifted his wrist and positioned his fingers deeper into your core with a grunt. 

“At this point, I’m sure it’s no secret that we have agents inside other factions, and I used them to get to know you more. What you were really like, how you interacted with everyone, what you liked- More and more until I was in too deep.” 

There were so many emotions to sort through as he talked but the way he was curling his fingers made it more than impossible. You couldn’t resist wiggling your hips at him with a whine. 

“Please,” you groaned, “Keep talking but fuck me!”

A sharp slap echoed through the room and the pain quickly blossomed across your cheek, making you clench around his fingers. You almost wiggled again just to feel more of that sting.

“All in good time. You need to learn patience, maus.” 

“Fu-Fuck, I have patience but I went two fucking months without this and you expect me to just-”

Another slap and another cry from your lips found your head dropping in defeat. König was the master of patience, as he’d proven multiple times before, and you knew you weren’t going to get anywhere with him until he was ready. 

“As I was saying,” he retorted sternly, “I admit it was not fair to have such an advantage against you when we first met, but I wanted- no, I needed to know how to treat you right, in all the ways you loved. Part of me knew I should leave you alone. You were too good, too perfect. I’d just ruin you. You deserved better, but I’m not a good man, schatz, and I am selfish. When I found out we were moving against your team with the orders to kill as necessary, I knew I had to take you, for your safety and my own conscience. And then- then I had you. It was the most maddening experience, seeing you so weak and small, at my complete mercy and whim. Just the thought that something could have happened to you…”

He trailed his words off with a deep growl that sent your hair on end.

“I would have killed them had they tried to touch you.”

Your eyes widened at that. Was he serious? He would have killed his comrades to protect you? Someone he hadn’t even met yet?

“I had planned to just let you out safely once we secured another information source, but scheiße, imagine my surprise when I found you so receptive to me.” 

Lips trailed soft kisses over your soft globes, leaving little love bites in their wake as he worked up your spine. Shivers crept across your skin and you leaned into the touch eagerly, your body craving anything and everything he would give. 

“I never expected to be allowed to touch you,” he whispered against your shoulder, “A literal angel. So perfect and willing to accept a monster like me. I truly considered just keeping you there, hiding you away in my quarters for the rest of time, but things went wrong.” 

A twinge of guilt tightened your stomach in a different, more unpleasant, way. Daniel had found you in König’s room, thankfully dressed and prepared, and you couldn’t resist lest you have a target on your back for the rest of your life. 

“Every day you were gone, I checked on you. I had them convince Graves that you were too fragile to go back out on dangerous missions, that you needed rest for your physical and mental health. If I couldn’t have you here to protect you, I was going to do my damndest to do what I could from afar. I’ve always had your best interests at heart, meine leibling, always. While I may have gone about it the wrong way, I don’t regret it for one second; Because now I have you. I’m no good but, gottverdammt, you make me want to be better for you.”

“König, I-”

Pulling his fingers out, he silenced you with another smack, a rumbling laugh filling the air when you squeaked in pain. 

“Later, leibling, but right now, I need you.”

You nodded in understanding and prostrated yourself further, lifting your hips to help him get a better angle. 

He groaned lowly and squeezed your hip tight, the other hand dragging his cock up and down your cunt, coating himself in your slick until he was thoroughly wet. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he sighed when you pushed back against him. 

“Then you’d best take me with you,” you retorted.

If he responded, you couldn’t hear it over your own moan when he thrust in. Brows furrowing and mouth gaping, you cursed him softly as he caught you off guard. There was no waiting, no patience. This was raw animalistic need. Two more thrusts and he was balls deep, stretching you in the most primal way and leaving you gasping for breath. 

“I’m sorry, meine leibling, but I- I couldn’t wait,” he whined softly, “Relax, you’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.”

You couldn’t manage even a single coherent word, just his name and foul curses leaving your lips in quiet little whimpers. 

“You okay, maus?” he asked as his hips stilled. 

“Fine! I’m fine, just- fuck, keep moving,” you cried.

He held your hips still and instantly gave you what you asked for, setting a punishing pace that made your muscles cry out. It felt like he was in your guts, stretching you to the limits and keeping a perfect balance, tipping precariously between ecstasy and anguish. No doubt you’d be covered in bruises tomorrow, internal and external. Fuck, your ass might even be too sore to sit from taking the brunt of his weight. Decidedly worth it. 

It didn’t take long to feel that pressure building up in your lower belly again, his cock filling every last inch of your cunt, head dragging across your sweet spot with every slam of his hips. Without thinking, you shot a hand between your thighs and rubbed your clit viciously, lips parting in a pornographic-level moan.

“K-König, feels so good, please, don’t stop!” 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned huskily, “That’s right, good girl. Come for me. Wanna feel this needy little cunt soak me.”

His growls were lost in the cacophony of your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin. Clenching tight around him earned a brutal smack and that was all it took. For the second time that night, you felt the overwhelming waves crash through you, prying a broken whine from your mouth as tears of bliss streamed down your cheeks. It was too much, not enough.

“Y/N, lift up and look back at me,” König demanded suddenly. 

He stilled long enough for you to push up onto one arm and he instantly grabbed your jaw, wrenching your head back until he could smash his mouth onto yours with a sigh. Slowly, he began to move his hips again, and you welcomed his tongue against yours, the hectic fucking turning into something more sweet, romantic. 

“Now these, these are the tears I love. You look so beautiful when you cry for me,” he cooed quietly, “My perfect little girl with those cock drunk eyes and that sweet little smile. I could stare at you like this forever.” 

“Mmm, wanna be here forever,” you whimpered back.

When he released your face, he didn’t let you collapse back down into your downward dog, instead, he hooked his arm around your neck and held you up, resting his head atop yours while subtly restricting the flow of blood and oxygen without being too much. 

“Of course, schatz, who else will fuck you like this? Who else could shape this tight little hole like I can?” 

Though you knew he was teasing by the tone in his voice, you couldn’t help but whine, “No one! No one could ever make me feel this good. Only you, König, just you! I’m yours.”

A familiar snarl was your only warning before he picked up the pace. 

“Ja, that’s right. Mine! No one will ever touch you again. I’ll kill anyone who tries! You. Are. Mine! Mind- body- soul- forever!”

The scream you let out was demonic and burned your throat raw with the force, but it still didn’t feel like enough- not enough to convey how good he made you feel or the way you felt for him as a whole. Nails digging into his forearm, you clawed onto him for balance as your legs began to wobble, your entire body giving out under the onslaught that was König. He finally released his hold on your throat only to dig his fingers deep into the plush of your hips.

“Y-Yes!” you gasped out when he finally let you rest on your forearms once more, one hand tangling into your locks, “And- And you’re mine. Meine- Meine leibling.”

You knew you butchered his mother tongue but it was worth the whimper he let out and the bruising grip on your hip. Now completely free of restraint, you don’t hesitate to fuck him back, throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts and squeezing your tight walls around his cock. 

“Ahh, I’m going to come, maus. Gonna- Scheiße!”

“Fuck yes, please! Pleasepleaspleaseplease come in me, König. Wanna make you feel good, baby! Wanna be good for you.”

 Your face was suddenly slammed down against the bed, one massive hand pinning you down as he rutted into you with abandon until, finally, he buried himself as far as humanly possible in your cunt. You had to smile into the blankets. So many men were quiet during sex, oh, but not your König. The noises he let out were delectable and you soaked them up like sunlight, as if they were necessary to your survival.

“Oh, Süßes mädchen, you are good for me,” he panted through moans, “Always so good for me. So- So tight and willing and perfect- ah!”

He collapsed over you with a groan, elbows digging into the mattress on either side of you, holding him just off from crushing you. Sweet and soft kisses rained down across your neck and shoulders, pulling quiet little mewls of contentment from your mouth until he placed a sharp bite under your ear. 

“Fuck!” you groaned with a laugh, “I guess I should have expected that this time.” 

A deep chuckle rumbled against your back as he replied, “I enjoy marking you, leaving little reminders that you’re mine.”

Your heart thumps hard against your chest. The need to hold him grew unbearable and you quickly wiggled beneath him, earning a groan from you both when he finally pulled out and you felt both your and his cum leak out over your skin. Once on your back, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down. You wanted to be the one getting laid on this time. His weight was a comfort, a weighted blanket if you would. 

“Maus, I-”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” you replied softly, feeling deja vu from repeating the same words he used before, “Please, I- I need this.” 

His eyes were swimming with all sorts of emotions but he finally relented with the smallest of nods, allowing you to pull him down to settle over you. Only the upper half of his torso was on you, his head resting against your breasts and feet hanging off the end of the bed, but it was enough. You waited until he got comfortable before running your fingers under his hood, gingerly scraping your nails against his scalp and neck. 

“I don’t know how I feel about everything you said,” you admitted softly.

The way he tensed up made your chest hurt, urging you to quickly continue and soothe his nerves. 

“But I’m not mad either,” you whispered, “It’s… unconventional but also insanely flattering and… romantic? I don’t think I’ve ever had someone want me that much. It kind of scares me that I’m gonna let you down, you know? You-”

“I know. I know what you’re going to say, how you think of yourself, but meine leibling, I’ve seen the good and the bad, and I love it all.”

Love. Oh, there was that powerful word again. You were torn. Logically, you knew he didn’t know you enough to love you, not real you and all your problems. How could someone so powerful, smart, kind, and beautiful as he really want something like you? You knew you weren’t the worst of the bunch, but you also knew there were many better than you too. And yet, another part of you wanted to accept it so badly that it hurt; believe that someone could truly see all your flaws and still love you. 

 As if he could sense your thoughts, he lifted up onto one elbow and his other hand came to cup your cheek.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he urged softly. 

Tears clouded your vision and you tried to blink them away unsuccessfully, letting out a huff of frustration when they fell. 

“What happens when you finally realize I’m not as perfect as you thought?” 

Your words were broken, throat tight and burning with each syllable. It was painfully obvious you were close to breaking and you hated showing it. 

“That is not possible,” he assured you kindly, thumb tracing your lower lip tenderly, “You are the most beautiful, most intelligent, and sweetest person I’ve ever met. Even if there was something I found issue with, we would work it out, schatz. Scheiße! What am I even saying? You should be running from me, not questioning if you’re worthy of being with me”  

“I- I don’t-”

With a little grunt, he suddenly lifted onto his knees and cupped your face.

“Do you want proof?” he demanded, “I will give you proof, mein schatz, whatever you need.” 

“Mm?” 

You were still dazed from his touch when he pulled away and it took your brain far too long to realize he had taken his sniper hood off, leaving him bare-faced, and it felt like your heart stopped beating. 

Other than his eyes and mouth, this was the most you’d seen. Nothing you’d ever pictured came even close to reality. Breathing suddenly became something you had to consciously think about as you reached up to touch his face in awe. He was stunning, not in a supermodel way but in a rugged way that made your fingers tremble and your body ache. His dirty blonde locks were cut in a slightly grown-out crew cut, matching the prickly blonde shadow lining his strong jaw and the thick blonde brows furrowed over those gorgeous soft blues. His nose was on the larger side and seemed as if it’d been broken one too many times, topped off with a little scar over the bridge by his eyes that you mindlessly traced. Those plump lips you’d spent so much time kissing were downturned in a serious frown, the scar above his top lip made more prominent by the motion, and it was then that you finally realized you’d been sitting and staring at him without saying a word for far too long. 

Honestly, though, there didn’t seem to be any right words to say. More than him being attractive, your brain was just dumbstruck by the sheer sense of trust he was showing. The tears you’d fought so hard to banish returned with a vengeance. What had you done to deserve this, to deserve someone who wanted you this much? A little voice in the back of your head said that you hadn’t, nothing you’d done had earned someone like König and this had to be some cruel joke. But oh, the look in his eyes, it suffocated that flicker of self-hatred before it could spread.

“Oh, meine liebling, are you-”

Hearing him call you that while being allowed to see all the intricate emotions in his expression… it was too much. Grabbing him by the back of the neck, you jerked him down into a biting kiss as a sob broke forth. You had to do something to try to express your thoughts.

“König,” you whispered brokenly, “Fuck, do you even realize how beautiful you are?!”

He let out a little chuckle against your lips and murmured, “I know I’m not unattractive but I think you are overselling it a little, ja?”

“Not. One. Bit,” you breathed between kisses.

With all your strength, you managed to push him back onto the bed and climbed over his waist, pinning his arms out as you looked over him in full. You knew he could easily overpower you and move you if he wanted, but he seemed content to let you get your fill. You couldn’t get enough of seeing him, your hands absentmindedly tracing designs along his arms and pecs as you reveled in all of the coalescing emotions. 

“God damn, and you really want me?” you sighed wistfully, “Are- Are you sure?”

He easily broke your hold to rest his hands on your sides, slowly stroking up and down from your ribs to your hips and back. The motion was soothing, tender.  

“I know you’ve been taught to think negatively about yourself, but I promise I’ll spend the rest of eternity reminding you every day just how loveable you are, as long as you’ll let me,” he replied before a devious smirk curled up the edges of his lips, “In fact, let me start now, hmm?” 

Leaning forward, you caught his lips in a soft kiss, only for a squeak to escape when he pulled your hips down against his, giving you an intimate feel of just what he had meant by his words. 

He growled, forcing a cry from you when he sunk his teeth into your sore lower lip and mumbled, “You see what you do to me? One look at you and I’m lost. How can you question this when I have the physical evidence to prove it, hmm?” 

Your face flushed warm at his words but you weren’t given a chance to reply before his fingers slipped down between your bodies, tearing out a shaky gasp as his fingers stroked your sensitive nub. 

“I hope you’re ready, maus, because you’re not leaving my side tonight. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”  

…

“So you heard it too?” 

“Yeah, can you believe it? And did you see the marks on his arms?!”

“I just can’t believe someone actually fucked the colonel. I bet she ain’t walkin’ right t’day. I dunno if you’ve seen him in the showers but…”

“Fuck, I know right?! It’s not fucking fair. The anti-social beast gets hung like king fucking kong and he doesn’t even use it. Well, not before last night anyway.”

You tried oh so hard to focus on your lunch and not the explicit conversation about the sex with your Austrian lover last night, but it was hard to ignore. They weren’t exactly being subtle. If only they knew how right they were. You’d done your best to hide it and took ibuprofen to help reduce the tenderness in your muscles, but there was no denying the way your legs and pussy were aching to the high heavens from his brutal treatment. Not that you were complaining. You’d take that pain and worse any day of the week as long as it was from him. 

“Oh shit, shh! He’s here!”

At that, your head jerked up instinctively. Your eyes searched the cafeteria curiously until, finally, you spotted him carrying out his lunch. A little smirk curled up your lips as spotted the many claw marks along his forearms and you had to chuckle to yourself. He just had to wear a T-shirt instead of his usual thermal, didn’t he? You were almost certain it was on purpose, as if he was peacocking that last night’s escapades. It was kind of cute and, honestly, quite arousing. 

“Who do you think it was?” 

“I dunno, man. It has to be one of Shadow Company because why else wouldn’t it have happened before?” 

Your lips fell and you quickly turned away from him, trying to avoid being too obvious when he turned around. As much as you wanted to spend the rest of your time with KorTac being draped all over your lover, reality was a major cock block. Until you were out of Graves’ grasp, you had to be careful. 

One last look found his eyes trained directly on you and your heart jumped into your throat as he walked right at you. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

“Y/L/N?” König asked as he stopped by your table. 

It was painfully obvious how red your face was by the heat emanating from your skin. Doing your best to keep a calm demeanor, you nodded once. 

“What can I help you with, sir?” you asked, cursing the way your voice shook. 

“When you’re done here, meet me in my office,” he instructed, “I need to talk with you about a report you filed on one of my men last night.” 

Oh. Maybe this was actually serious. You felt a little foolish for even thinking he would chance exposing your relationship like that in public. 

“Of course, sir, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you assured him. 

And then his professional facade slips, the little wink he sent your way making your thighs clench, and you nearly screamed at him for getting you so flustered when he got to hide behind his hood. 

“See to it that you do.” 

With that, he stalked away, your eyes following him in disbelief. 

“What an asshole,” you breathed out quietly, unable to stop the goofy ass smile plastered to your face.

You wasted no time demolishing the rest of your food, your mind going a million miles an hour about what you could expect once you saw him. The mental image of being forced over his desk was enough to make the remainder of your food entirely unappetizing. You had a different kind of hunger to satiate. 

[elquacktism]

YASSS OK

ctntduo au where they're just in a strict evangelical all boys school where Q low-key dgaf about this Jesus shit and knows he likes guys and finds comfort that his identity is a way to retaliate

W is the religious freak here, suffering from comphet 😞 they're both in the honor roll class and the two of the best students in the school. Q low-key has a crush on W (W does too but he just thinks it's admiration)

Something something shit happens and W "accidentally" kisses Q and freaks the fuck out. He thinks Q is gonna tell the whole school and he probably didn't sleep at night cause he thinks god is gonna strike him down.

He doesn't come to school for like two days out of just constant fear, so Q is hella concerned and think he fucked it up with his crush.

Ok so that's basically the sorta plot

Brain vomit under here

Not really sure if I should but maybe Q telling W that it's ok that he kissed him cause he's gay! But of course W is like dumb so he tells one of the nuns in genuine concern for Q cause he thinks the devil has got him and he genuinely wants to help him (morally grey character wahoo). This makes Q absolutely despise W btw (rightfully so)

Also Q has a bit of a troublemaker reputation, he's smart but often disagrees with the teachings and doesn't take it seriously. He conflicts a lot with W cause he's the obedient good kid and follows the teachings cause that's what he's told to do.

W faith is like sorta shaky in a way that he follows the teachings kinda blindly and it's just really hammered into his head but he himself doesn't really get it, he's scared to doubt them because "the word of god is never wrong!!!". Again conflicting with Q's whole doubting everything and questioning every authority

And and y'know that one TikTok audio? "I wish you were a girl" THATS THEM

(I literally don't know shit about the honor roll cause my country don't have that) the honor class doesn't have a lot of students so Q and W come across each other a lot (plus the fact that they're both top students and is expected to compete) and end up being friendly up until that kissing incident, W tries to avoid Q but of course he can't so they just kinda made a silent agreement to not talk about it. (Q would complain but he really doesn't want to push away his crush and he thinks that he can change his mind) so W ignores how much his heart beats whenever Q is around and how much he draws him on his notes (he probably stare at those drawings at home he's actually so gay for him I feel so bad)

Since hanging out with Q a lot W has been questioning his own faith a lott, it scares the shit out of him and sometimes he tries to fight Q about it. W is smart and he of course realizes that Q is often right and even if he tries to deny it it'll constantly nag at him.

The sorta ending I have is that Q helps W to accept himself but! I have an idea that maybe W is just a stubborn mf and when they graduate they go their own separate ways. W would marry a woman and have a daughter (Tallulah?). No surprises here he's miserable but he loves his daughter so he tries to stay for her. Tallulah is queer

He'd tell Tallulah that she needs to keep strong with her faith cause god often gives tests to see how loyal she is, and so basically

W : Y'know one time I kissed a boy and the devil nearly got me into his trap, thank the lord that I persevered and look where I am today

Tallulah : WHAT

Ok that's it for now I will continue later LMAOO