#I’m not sure if I should be ashamed

[cabbag35]

I’ve come back, but I am not the same cabbage as before. And for that, I am truly sorry.

You know the drill— tap for ✨better quality✨

[lulu2992]

If you’ve played Far Cry 3, you’ve probably seen its “prequel”, a promotional web series called The Far Cry Experience starring Michael Mando as Vaas and Christopher Mintz-Plasse as himself.

In Episode 4 (spoilers), Vaas asks the audience if they want Chris to live or die. People decided he should live but, since there were two choices, they had to shoot two versions of the final episode.

Well, a few years ago, I realized that, on the Ubisoft Japan YouTube channel, both versions were available! So in case you didn’t know this video existed, here’s what would have happened if people had voted for Chris to die:

The video is dubbed in Japanese and I unfortunately don’t speak this language, so I can’t tell what they’re saying... But if you understand Japanese or are good at reading lips, maybe you can :)

[chialattea]

people will be so understanding of mental illnesses/ ND until they spend more time with a person who can’t get rid of the symptoms and suddenly it’s all “I think you could fix it if you just put some alarms” “have you tried doing a todo list” “have you tried simply not thinking those intrusive thoughts” gee thanks man you know who else finds living with this shit annoying? ME.

[newvision]

watching debates on abortion rights is so insane to me. you’ll have pro lifers say stuff like getting an abortion is the same as murdering a born child and then that very same person agreeing that women should never be shamed for getting an abortion because “it’s a difficult decision”. girl you believe them to be murderers? I can’t think of anyone who should feel more ashamed than people who kill their children, it’s just that I don’t think abortion is the same as murder. Things aren’t adding up, you’re not as good of a person as you think you are babe

[zivot]

What is YOUR Roman Empire?

»A little life« by Hanya Yanagihara

[debushit]

so many times i saw the phrase “not all men, but yes, all women” and i felt lucky that i wasn’t part of the women who have faced violence or harassment, but today at 25 years old i can no longer feel blessed, because i was harassed by a creep at the supermarket today and i feel so vulnerable and awful and frustrated and i hate that this is the world that we live in

[jinkiezzsstuff]

At First Sight PT2

Alastor x doe!reader

PART ONE PART 3

this is a short part 2 to a request, tbh i didn’t think about continuing it before so i struggled a bit and it’s quite short! i’m so sorry gang ;-; i hope it satiates yall if not lemme know what i can cook up for you

Warnings: love sick alastor + reader, ooc alastor, mates/soulmate trope, mentions of reproduction and pregnancy (dw yall i didn’t do the no no there is no pregnancy it’s just mentioned bc it supposed to be gn), short short, swearing, not proof read, hmmmm i think that’s it lmk whatcha think

wee little taglist for the people who asked kiss kiss: @fairyv-ice @chirimeimei

Tucked underneath Alastors chin you laid comfortably alongside him in bed. You’d been awake awhile now tail thumping softly behind you as you watched the demon sleep his smiled soft and barely showing. He laid in pyjama bottoms only chest bare and on display for you. You absentmindedly traced the scars along his torso feeling him respond with goosebumps every now and again.

“Goodmorning my doe,” Alastors voice rang out, killing the silence. It was shocking to hear his static gone and his regular voice out on display, dripped in sleepy sultry. “Good morning my buck.” You reply sickeningly sweet while crawling up to lean over his face, his eyes were lidded now gazing at you with a loving look in his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked playing with the stray hair that swept across his face. “Indeed darling very well. I should be good for several days.” He chirped happily, ears flicking. “We should head down, i need to talk to Charlie.” You say with a grimace.

Last night when Charlie caught you and Al, you felt guilty, you knew Charlie was a sweetheart but you practically abandoned her all day for Alastor, then scared her silly with a deal and sex! Groaning you grab your head while Alastor stood. With a snap of his fingers the two of you were dressed, and that did take a load of stress of you. “Come now my doe, I’ll be there the whole time, no shame and if there is we’ll be ashamed together!”

Alastor seemed pretty bright in his exclamation holding his arm out to you. Obviously you trusted Al you gave yourself and soul to him and only him just last night. So while attached at the arm the two of you trotted downstairs.

Arriving downstairs interlocked you were both greeted by all the patrons already in the living area next to the bar. Charlie was the first to make a noise gasping, meanwhile Angel was practically vibrating in his seat. Just as Angel was about to talk Vaggie interrupted. “You made a fucking deal!?” Screamed the fallen angel, hands thrown behind her as the rest of her body lurched forward. Frowning you bit your lip, of course this was gonna be an awkward conversation with Charlie, but with the whole hotel listening. Even worse!

“Neva mind that Vagina! Let’s talk about the real stuff. How big? Seven? Eight? Twelve?! Ouch-“ Vaggie knocked Angel over the head with the back of her spear. “Yikes alright, twelve is greedy…. ten?” Angel whispered cackling at Vaggie who growled at her. Alastor, obviously unhappy, began to crackle with static, black shadows oozing out from the floor and encompassing the room slowly.

At the sight of Alastor’s figure demonically stretching the room fell silent, you only gazed up at the deer slightly aroused by his stature and the way his antlers screwed out like branches. “You’re quite the sight.” You say dreamily, barely even noticing you spoke to begin with, Alastor’s head cracked down to you. Coming back to himself Alastor hummed out adoringly, petting your head but wanting to kiss you, unfortunately that was a step too far for him right now.

“Uhm anyway, YN, can you please tell me about the deal?” Charlie begged worry on her face as she looked to you and Alastor. You felt the guilt crawl at you again. “I… well I’m not sure why but there’s just this pull i have to Alastor, he asked me to be his i said yes i…” You veered off feeling too embarrassed by all the eyes, thankfully Alastor pulled you in theatrically waving his microphone around, taking the attention off you.

“Well this lovely doe was just made for me you see? I’m perfectly capable of protecting such a divine creature and though I don't doubt your ability, princess I'd feel a lot more comfortable being the one to do so.” Alastor fired off sounding like a proper radio host as he did so. Charlie looked confused but then perked up happily.

“This is thee perfect redeeming quality Alastor, love is so pure! This is great!” As Charlie felt giddy, Vaggie felt suspicious eyeing the red demon. “So what did you even sell- what was the deal?” You hummed tapping your finger to your lip; well you didn’t know, just that you gave yourself to him.

Looking up to Alastor for help here he happily obliged. “Worry not you angry little woman,” Alastor replied, pinching Vaggies cheek, her angrily pushing him off. “The contract was nothing greater than marriage.” The entire room, yourself included, was surprised at this. You knew this was a soul binding contract, but for him to make that connection on his own was well to you sweet as ever. Your tail flicked happily behind you as you looked to Alastor who returned to your side.

Charlie was as equally as happy as you were, but Vaggie and Husk kept within the same boat of apprehension. “Why so suddenly?” Asked Vaggie again, but Alastor shrugged her off. “I’m unsure dear, just that i couldn’t resist this little doe. Like fate.” Alastor pondered meanwhile you briefly seethed at Alastor for referring to Vaggie as dear.

“Maybe it’s like some soulmate bullshit between deer?” Angel pipped up, putting in his required two cents. Husk groaned at that, but Charlie squeaked jumping up. “That is totally possible! It happened with my dad! Well, y’know in the beginning.” Charlie chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. Alastor shook his head rapidly a soft laugh echoing out of him.

“No way dear, how is that possible?” He mocked bopping Charlie atop the head with his mic, you again weren’t happy hearing him call another demon dear, but you let it fly. “Well you both are deer, could it be instinctual?” Charlie reasoned her pitch, giving away her uncertainty.

You hummed looking up towards Alastor to see him already looking down to you. “I think Alastor and I would need to talk about it privately before we have a group conversation about it. It’s kinda of embarrassing.” You admit already tired of the discussion. Charlie however didn’t like the idea of not having an answer, so with a plan in mind she turned to Vaggie. “Vaggie can you take them to the library, maybe look some stuff up online? We need to figure this out.” Charlie asked giving Vaggie a look that conveyed this was more of a do this rather than a can you do this.

Nodding her head Vaggie looked at you, who looked at Alastor. Alastor shrugged and muttered he didn’t see the issue, so long as you were safe. So you and Vaggie headed off, meanwhile Charlie calmly asked to speak with Alastor in private.

Alone in Alastor’s radio tower, Charlie sat on one side of the broadcasting table while Alastor sat behind it, tunes playing out of him. “So Al,” Charlie started breathing out a deep breath. “Can you please tell me what’s going on with the deal, listen i can’t have them get hurt! I’ll even make a deal.” Charlie said sadly gazing off, she didn’t want to make a deal, but she would.

Alastor watched her, and pitied her odd behaviour. Resting his chin on his hand Alastor sat quietly for a moment, Charlie waiting with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “It was nothing malicious that i can assure you. Although, i’m not sure what happened between them and myself, I felt pretty agressive in my feelings to protect them. Of course that private moment between us should’ve stayed private,” Alastors words were stern as he glared down at Charlie who shrunk bashfully in her seat.

“But suppose since you know i will confess in that moment of intensity, i did the only thing I knew how to do to my dear. I’m not particularly good with emotions, and so I simply ensured I’d have them with a deal.” Tapping his nails on the desk Alastor kept his composure but inside he was scolding himself for even letting that much truth out. Charlie seemed to like the sound of that though, nodding her head in agreement.

“So you won’t, and you don’t have any plans to hurt them?” Alastors ears pinned back subconsciously, he didn’t enjoy being accused of cruelty when it came to you, and he didn’t know he could be any more truthful. “My dear i swear, on my mother, not a hair on their pretty doe head, will ever be hurt by me.” Holding his right hand up, head high Alastor watched as Charlie eased into a smile. Nodding at him.

Rejoining the crew downstairs Alastor and Charlie were shocked to see you and Vaggie had returned. “How come you guys are back so quick?” Vaggie turned at the sound of Charlie’s voice, eyes bugged slightly. “Yeah you won’t believe what we found.” Vaggie said handing Charlie a book about demons and mating. Charlie didn’t seem too keen on the book ‘uhs’ immediately falling from her mouth.

You stepped up, opening the book to the checked marked place. “It’s species dependent on how mating affects someone, in this case Doe’s are more of a rarity in hell meaning it was an instinct for the two of us to kinda ‘mate’ or ‘bond’ to one another, as if we had to worry about going extinct.” You scoffed watching as Charlie glazed over the words while listening to you. “Weird. It must be because you’re a hellborn and an angel, so technically you can reproduce.”

A record scratch sounded out from Alastor, the lot of you looking towards his stiff figure. “Don’t worry Al, we’re pretty sure you’re still unable to.” Charlie hushed to him, before giving you a look that told you, she didn’t really know that to be true. You weren’t worried though, almost a hundred percent certain that he would not be able to have children. “Welp, at least now we know that’s a thing,” Angel sighed from the background, Vaggie glaring at him.

Pulling you into his side Alastor grinned his poise returned. “Look at us figuring stuff out why wasn’t this just the teamwork we all needed, good job.” Alastor applauded slightly condescending, but Charlie was happy with it nonetheless giving two thumbs up to you and Alastor.

[ilyluffy]

𝒢𝒜𝑀𝐸 ~ 𝒪𝒱𝐸𝑅

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: meguru bachira + seishiro nagi + rin itoshi + sae itoshi

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, needy!characters, teasing, dry humping, manhandling, oral, spankings, implied sex {more warnings under the cut}

{haikyuu edition}

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: needy!sort of bratty!bachira, gn!reader, teasing, dry humping

bachira was needy and he wasn’t ashamed about it at all. in fact, because of how open bachira was with how clingy he could be it was more surprising that you didn’t expect him to bother you while you were gaming. you were laying on your back in bed, controller in hand, when bachira suddenly pounced on to you. “i want attention” he states bluntly. although you realize that it’s less than of an announcement and more so a demand. he wanted your focus to be on him and him alone right now. however you try to stay stubborn. if you kept giving meguru whatever he wanted whenever he wanted he’d only become spoiled. so you attempt to shake your head no. “meguru i’m in the middle of something” you say, trying to ignore him as he straddles your waist. that causes bachira to raise an eyebrow. it was very rare that you denied him but just like every other occasion where you’ve tried to be stern with him, bachira reminded you why not feeding his neediness was impossible. without warning bachira starts humping your lap. you nearly drop the controller in your hand when you feel his bulge grinding against your core. “are you sure you’re busy?” bachira asks, giving you a mischievous grin. “because my cock wants you right now”.

𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: needy!dom!nagi, gn!sub!reader, some humour, manhandling, implied multiple rounds

nagi is fully aware that he’s a hypocrite but he doesn’t particularly care either. right now he wants attention and he was starting to regret getting you into video games. no matter how much he pouts you nudge him away from you. “in a minute seishiro. i’m almost done this level”. those words would result in nagi grumbling under his breath “reo would pay attention to me”. still not taking him seriously, you’d laugh. “maybe you should start dating reo then”. nagi doesn’t agree that that’s very funny. in fact, that’s the last straw. within the blink of an eye your game counsel is being knocked out of your hand and nagi’s pinning you down. you’re taken aback by how his eyes, which are usually soft, look down at you with an intense gaze. you’re not sure whether you’re nervous or excited but you have a suspicion that it’s a bit of both. “what would you rather play with. the game or this?” nagi says, taking your hand and guiding it to the bulge in his sweats. the whimper you let out tells him all he needs to know. “that’s what i thought. you can forget about finishing the level because i’m not letting you go for the rest of the day”. he means it too. i hope you’re ready for multiple rounds and endlessly cuddles once nagi’s satisfied with fucking you.

𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, needy!dom!rin, implied oral (reader receiving)

rin will never admit to being needy but he does get that way a lot. although this stubbornness proved to be his downfall because during those times he wanted your attention you had no idea because he wouldn’t just say it. like right now, when you were busy gaming, you were too distracted by the screen in front of you to notice rin’s lame attempts at dropping hints. instead of getting you to notice through subtle gestures rin really should have just voiced his feelings but he has something else in mind. as your fingers strategically mash buttons, you suddenly feel rin get comfortable between your legs. it startles you at first but eventually you recover and knit your eyebrows together without turning away from your game. “rinny, what are you doing?” you question. rather than giving you verbal answer, rin kisses your core through your bottoms. with the fabric being thin, you feel more than you expect to. it sends a shiver of pleasure up your spine and a moan tumbling from your lips. you try putting the game on pause because now you know what’s coming but rin stops you. “finish the level” he drawls, gazing up at you through his eyelashes. “i want you to finish it while i take care of you down here”. you’re not sure whether or not you’re being rewarded or punished but before you can decide if you really want to accept rin’s challenge he’s diving in between your thighs again.

𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!sub!reader, mean!dom!sae, spankings, implied penetrative sex

sae knew he shouldn’t have bought you the game counsol. unfortunately he had a bad habit of spoiling you. so when that you wanted the video game he caved it and got it despite his opinion that people got addicted to those things far too easily. now sae was suffering the consequences. he came home after practice with the intention of fucking you senseless but you barely react when he walks through the door. your face being glued to the screen in front of you as you lay on your stomach makes sae’s eye twitch with irritation. “welcome home” you greet dully as he sits behind you in the bed. you haven’t even given him a second glance. normally sae would at least give you a warning before he punished you but he was so annoyed that he doesn’t even grant you that. instead he boosts your hips up so you’re in a downward dog yoga pose and spanks your ass. you squeal, dropping the controller in your hand. “w-what was that for?” you ask, flustered as you rub the spot his palm had connected with. smacking your hand away, sae gets to work pulling your bottoms off. “no, go ahead. keep ignoring me” he sends you an icy glare as he takes his cock out of his own pants. “i’ll show you what happens when you choose a video game over me”.

2022–2023 © ilyluffy — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome

[joelsgreys]

strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Paying For Someone Else's Mistake - Logan Sargeant

Request from @monacosprince - tbh i’m so mad and williams for what they’re doing to logan! can you please write a fic where logan is upset and self doubting over the situation and reader helps him???

Ngl reader is going to be an angry, overprotective little girlfriend in this. If you don't like that vibe, I'm sorry but I feel like Logan needs a girlfriend who will stand up for him when he's feeling down. She's a little bit...bad-tempered shall we say. We are also going to feature bestie!Oscar being a good friend bc despite popular belief I'm sure he's there for Logan to make sure he's ok.

When it comes to dating Logan, y/n is not afraid to use her voice where Logan might try to be quiet. He's got an image as a patriotic America but he's such a soft soul and so isolated as a driver on the grid. Y/n can't help but let a more protective over him.

Y/n and Logan started dating towards the end of the season last year. She's been his main support system in giving him the confidence her gained back after losing it so much last season. He absolutely adores her and he would do anything for her. But she does a hell of a lot in return for him and he's given a lot of credit to her publicly for everything because he isn't ashamed to admit that she's genuinely that amazing to him.

"Hey, I was wondering where you'd got to." Logan smiles as y/n appears in his drivers room ahead of FP1.

"I always here when you need me." Y/n states brightly moving to kiss him. "How you feeling?"

"Good. Have you been enjoying the sun? You're warm." Logan comments making her laugh a little as he places the back of his hand to her cheek.

"Yeah, it's nice out. Before we go to Japan we should get ourselves down the the beach for a day or something." Y/n grins before Logan's trainer, Ben appears smiling at the two. "Time to go?"

"Time to go." Ben confirms making her gesture for Logan to go ahead, but he links their hands and pulls her with him as Ben leads them.

-

Y/n felt bad for Alex. She knows Logan has anxiety about crashing and causing damage to the car sometimes means he plays it on the safer side or if he does push himself like he wants to and it doesn't work out, then she makes sure he remembers that everyone makes mistakes. Even Max managed to give his floor a beating today.

Obviously y/n isn't involved in the debriefs and meetings following practices but James and the team need to talk with the boys about a problem.

Ben appears before Logan does and he looks like he's just been kicked in the stomach.

"What's going on?" Y/n frowns but before he can answer, Logan appears looking disheveled and like he's been trying to stop himself from crying. "Baby? What's happening?"

"Nothing. I'm tired, just want to get out of here." Logan states which raises alarms anyway because Logan is never that eager to leave. Even tired and jet lagged.

"Probably best to go back to the hotel and rest." Ben confirms making y/n's frowns deepen. They're not telling her something and she doesn't like being kept in the dark.

Logan all but rips his suit off as if it's burning him to wear it and actually he does tear his fireproofs in the rush to get them off.

Y/n has to bite her tongue to not demand an explanation. She feels like she's sort of on the verge of stomping her foot like a toddler and shouting for someone to say something. There's nothing more upsetting than seeing Logan so upset.

They finally get out and when they do, they pass Oscar who stops them to talk to his long term friend.

"Hey, mate. How's it going?" Oscar smiles, him in a good mood since it's his home race.

"Hey, sorry man. We're just heading off to the hotel. Y/n doesn't feel well." Logan lies annoyingly well, but his tone is tight and strained which makes Oscar's gaze flick to y/n.

"Sorry, you feel better y/n. I'll see you tomorrow mate." Oscar nods but Logan is already tugging her away and the questioning look on Oscar's face making her shrug in a silent conversation.

Whatever has happened, Logan doesn't want to talk about it. At least not right in this moment. In fact they get to the hotel and she's given a kiss before he mumbles that he's going to shower.

Y/n huffs sitting down with a frown before she decides to change and order room service. Which actually arrives before Logan comes out the shower. But when he does she decides to finally force it out of him, whether she has to poke him into a corner to do it.

"Logan, please tell me what's going on." Y/n pleads deciding to try the softer approach since his eyes are bloodshot and it's obvious he has been crying in the shower. He'd never want her to see it because he hates the idea of her seeing him in such a weak position. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"James decided to give Alex my car...they don't have the parts to repair his and he wants Alex in the race." Logan states clearing trying not to choke on his words.

"He what?" Y/n frowns actually retracting back in disgust and trying to figure out if she really just heard him wrong. "Say that again."

"Baby-"

"No. No. That's-That's not ok. What the hell?" Y/n frowns getting up and beginning to pace. "Was I watching the wrong car when I saw a driver send a Williams into the wall? I don't remember you climbing out the smashed up car."

"Baby, it's-"

"Don't you dare say this is ok. This is not ok. I-" Y/n cuts herself short about to say something that would only add to his upset which is pretty visible really. "You deserve better, Logan. They have no right to do that."

"I know. But they've done it for the better of the team. I understand. Alex is the stronger driver-"

"Alex sent his fucking car into a wall! No other team would do this. If he can't keep his car on the track knowing the team doesn't have the means to fix it. Then that is not for him to get to continue! It is not your mistake to pay for." Y/n snaps not angry at Logan but she can't contain it. She softens a little, her body unable to fight the instinct to hug him tightly. "You are worth so much more than how they treat you."

Logan sighs resting his chin on top of her head as she rests in on his chest.

"I just need you right now." Logan whispers making her close her eyes hoping to prevent tears that are building.

Y/n hates this. Right now she'd go as far to say she hates the whole team for hurting Logan like this.

"We can eat, get in bed and cuddle?" Y/n offers moving her head back to look up at the blonde. "Yeah?"

"Sounds good." He nods managing a ghost of a smile.

-

Logan's alarms came and went. He's awake but certainly in no rush to get out of bed, favouring lying his head on y/n's stomach while she plays with his hair.

"Would you stay with me if I lose my seat before the end of the season?" Logan asks breaking the peaceful but cold silence between them.

"Don't even talk like that." Y/n mutters trying to keep her voice void of the anger that it's verging on the edge of. "You are not going to lose your seat before the end of the season and even if you did-which is not going to happen. I would never leave you because of it...I would never leave you if you gave me the choice. Full stop."

Logan only responds by turning his head to hide his face against her skin.

"Logan..." Y/n tries, swallowing thickly at the knowledge he's hurting in such a way.

She tried not to think much of him deciding he doesn't need to be in any rush to get to the paddock. But he did reach over and put his phone onto do not disturb after the alarm and it seemed to starting going crazy. People had definitely tried to call, he was meant to be in.

"We can't stay here forever." Y/n whispers rubbing her hand through his hair but he doesn't reply.

So instead of pushing, she just remains quiet and gives him the time she knows he's silently asking for.

After another 15 minutes of just playing with his hair. She keeps herself quiet when he finally shifts up and looks at her, but he quickly kisses her softly and smiles at her but it's forced.

"Are you practicing smiling with me?"

"Apparently not if you have to ask." Logan sighs then sitting up. "I just want to stay here with you."

"I know. I don't think anyone would blame you for not showing up today. Or even just saying you want to fly over to Japan."

"You think?" He asks looking slightly amused but not quite enough for it to reach his eyes.

"Well I'd understand and I'm the only one who matters here." Y/n smiles earning a small laugh. "I love your smile...don't let them ruin your smile today."

"For you, I'll keep smiling." Logan promises making her smile and move to kiss him.

And just like that they're up getting on with the day.

When they get to the paddock the level of support for Logan is overwhelming, though y/n actually had already found the support for her boyfriend online was insane. A little harsh on Alex, though maybe initially she'd felt like finding a car to run over the rebuilt F1 car and destroy the second chassis to make a point.

Logan doesn't really see Alex but y/n couldn't promise not to be slightly cold towards him.

It wasn't Alex's decision. James made the decision.

But it's Alex's crash, so she holds him somewhat at fault for this. Even if it's more on the team's completely unacceptable state of not having spare parts like the spare chassis they need.

"You're not smiling." Logan comments making y/n lift her eyebrows quickly from how deep they'd furrowed.

"Just thinking." Y/n mumbles before managing a smile at him as he relinks their hands. "I like seeing them show you all the love you. I think you needed to see that people are here for you."

-

Y/n doesn't know if she's spent so much of her life straining herself from punching people in the face. She'd happily use most of the Sky Sports commentators as target practice.

Her mum would scold her for such violent thoughts. Hell if Logan could read her mind then he might even try to settle her fiery urges.

She's flexed her hands more times to try and unfurl them from the tight fists she'd held them in for the better part of an hour.

She's not even been watching the screens. Only focusing on Logan while he stands with engineers.

Only once they're out of the garage when practice is when she discover fans saw her on broadcast and have duped her as Logan's "scary dog privileges" and apparently fear for Alex or James to cross her.

"Fantastic." Y/n mumbles walking around the paddock only to find herself caught in Oscar's company and he looks pretty amused.

"You look like you might be ready to knock someone down with a headbutt." Oscar comments making her hum. "How's he doing? I haven't got to talk to him?"

"Better now he knows the amount support he's getting." Y/n sighs while crossing her arms. "But he doesn't really want to be here. He'll probably leave early."

"I don't blame him. I get it, but-"

"No. It wasn't his crash to pay the price for." Y/n cuts in not standing for a second of it. "I'm sick of seeing people try to justify it. If one more person tries to say that it's understandable but not fair, I'm going to knock them down and stand on their windpipe till they're blue."

"Every time we talk I'm happier and happier that I'm on your good side." Oscar comments earning a small smile that in different circumstances would've been a laugh. "I'm glad Logan has you...It took him a long time to find you, but you perfectly balance him out. I think he needed someone who so...loyally defends him."

"People talk shit about him constantly. Then this happens...How is he supposed to stand by a team when they publicly humiliate him like this?"

Oscar only looks at her in sympathy.

"Anyway, I don't want to bring down your mood for your home race...you're looking really good out there." Y/n smiles lightly trying not to be a completely moody bitch.

"Thanks. If there's one race I want to go well, it's the home race."

"Well I have faith in your capabilities to make that happen." Y/n smiles before she swallows. "I'll be rooting for you to take pole in qualifying."

"That might be pushing it." Oscar chuckles but she shrugs and just leans over kissing his cheek with a one armed hug.

"I'll still be rooting for you, I'm going to go be a moody bitch elsewhere."

"I know Logan appreciates it."

Y/n sighs moving through the paddock frowning at cameras focusing on her and burning some holes through any sight of Sky commentators. No doubt that will be clipped and posted soon enough.

By the time she sees Logan briefly before qualifying, she finds he's with Alex.

"Hey, y/n." Alex greets seeming to try to be his usual friendly self but he's met with a cold shoulder.

"Alex."

"What y/n means is...happy birthday." Logan smiles linking their hands and squeezing hers in a push to be nicer but she only shoots a fake smile to the older man.

Alex makes a quick excuse of needing to get ready before he leaves while Logan sighs turning to her with a look that is supposed to make her feel guilty.

"I don't feel bad." Y/n states making Logan sigh.

"I know you're being protective. But you can't make Alex the enemy." Logan smiles sadly while tucking some strands behind her ear. "You know I love you...and I love that you're upset for me. But you can be nice to Alex...especially on his birthday."

"I'll consider it." Y/n murmurs earning a smile from the American since he knows she's still just being hesitant because she's upset.

"He was saying he will had to tread carefully after seeing the clips of you in practice." Logan smiles earning a small smile before he gently cups her face. "It's just one weekend."

"I know."

She hopes he's right. Though she's seen James talk about them "hoping" to have a chassis ready for Japan.

But that's a problem for another day.

"How are you feeling?" Y/n asks making Logan look at her for a moment.

It reads on his face. He can paint a smile on but damage goes deeper than skin deep.

"It still hurts. But it's my hurt to feel."

"You know asking me not to hurt for you is like asking me to just stop caring."

This decision is damaging to the team. It's damaging to Logan's confidence. If Alex fails to get even 1 point, it's damaging to his reputation. But for y/n, she knows that regardless of what's said, and regardless of how James might try. This is going to stick with Logan possibly long after he's out of the team.

Y/n hates that someone has the power to hurt him like that and did hurt him like that. James used that power and swung it like an axe into Logan's side, whether he wanted to or not that's exactly the damage that's been done. But the only thing y/n hates more than that, is she hates that she can't fix it.

"I'll try to be better." Y/n sighs making him smile lightly and pat her.

"That's all I ask."

Y/n grunts a little still not being able to stop herself from voicing her disapproval.

"I love you." Logan smiles lightly then gently kissing her.

"I love you too."

"Alright, let's get moving. And please try not to look like you might bite James' ear off if he gets too close."

"No promises that I won't bite his ear off if he gets too close. At least if I look like I'm going to do it, he'll not risk coming too close to me."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess

[harrysonlylover]

Psycho For You*

Summary: In which jealousy runs deep in his blood.

Warnings: MEAN Harry, blood, mentions of violence, filthy rough smut, shower sex, choking, degradation, size kink.

WC: 1.4k

Main Masterlist

Y/n had good intentions in mind. Not pure or angelic, but the right amount of playfulness. She didn’t anticipate this to happen or meant to do any harm.

She should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better than to rile him up, and fuel his jealousy. All she wanted to do was mess with him, and it took a different route.

The blood was dripping on the tiles, but he didn’t wash it off because at the moment he had a lesson to teach.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” A sadistic smile was painted on his face as he nipped on her skin.

The blood belonged to the man she ‘flirted’ with, he didn’t kill him despite the burning urge he felt. Instead, others at the party had to pull him away before it escalated.

And the sick truth? She liked it.

“Don’t you know that you belong to me?” He grabbed her throat with a tight grip, staining her skin with blood.

The hot water poured on their naked bodies as he rested his forehead against hers, with his cock nestled deep inside her heat.

“I do.” She shivered from the thrill of it all.

“Tsk tsk, looks like your little brain forgot again.” He thrusted inside her, causing her head to tilt backward against the glass wall.

He refused her help once they arrived home, dismissing the need to clean and stitch his hands. That wasn’t what he needed. He craved having her warm walls engulf his cock as he watched her facial expression change for him.

The steam from the hot water covered the glass walls, and Harry had her body supported with his.

“Silly girl, pushed my buttons on purpose and now look what happened.”

The wet sounds caused by his thrusting could not be overpowered by the dripping water. He adored hearing how his cock penetrated her, and he was extra rough this time.

“Whose slut are you? Hmm?” His grip on her jaw would surely cause visible bruises in the morning.

“Yours.” She replied weakly and incoherently because of her smushed cheeks.

“Oh look, the brainless slut can speak. Looks like I’m too easy on you.” He suddenly stopped mid thrust, raking his eyes all over her gorgeous face. A grin slowly made its way before he pulled out and slid in again with a rough force.

He used his hands to bounce her body on his cock quickly. Her screams were music to his ears.

“Bet you liked how I almost killed him for you. You want that, don’t you?” His wet curls covered his forehead while he bit her shoulder.

Her answer was muffled by her moans and whimpers. He lived to hear her beautiful sobs and cries of pleasure. His cock was made to pleasure her always soaked pussy—or should he say his pussy?

“Not gonna answer, eh? No need darling. I felt the clench of your dirty cunt when I asked.” She tugged at his hair knowing how much he adored the pain.

If not for her mushy brain and feelings of euphoria, she would’ve answered him properly. She wasn’t even ashamed of it because he had corrupted her to the core. Fuck yes, she liked it.

She wanted him to protect her and loved the idea of him going crazy for her. Loved the idea of her man, exploiting his physical strength for her.

Her hands held onto his biceps as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His thrusts were merciless. He hit her G-spot repeatedly and stopped whenever she clenched a lot which was an indication of an orgasm.

He followed it with a wicked laugh and more aggressive kissing. His mouth nipped all over his body, whether it be biting, sucking, or ‘gentle’ kissing. He made sure to leave his marks everywhere. The bruises that will form on her body were the smallest example.

He would soon cum inside her walls, plant his seed deep inside her womb and give her the feeling she begs him for. And over the next few days, soreness will follow.

“Would you look at that?” He chuckled as he glanced down to where his cock pulled out from her warm pussy again. It was coated with their wetness but more specifically her juices.

“Pathetic slut, getting off the fact that I hurt other people for you.” He pulled her hair, causing a stinging sensation in her scalp. He gently tapped on her cheek signaling for her to open her mouth. He spat inside before guiding her lips to his and clashing his tongue with hers.

“Should’ve just spat on you instead from how filthy you are, and you’d like it anyways.” The steam from the hot water caused fog to arise in the small bathroom. She genuinely could not think straight. Everything was too overwhelming and euphoric. She couldn’t resist dropping her gaze to his glorious body where his cock was hanging.

No wonder her pussy felt empty.

She swallowed down her throat at his size, she really wondered how he fit inside her sometimes, but she was immediately reminded of how many tries and lube it took for him to fit in.

After that, he had her stretched properly to his shape and curve because he simply owned her.

“Little bunny, you’re about to drool.” He tsked, raising her chin with his finger. She gave him innocent doe eyes that had him weak in the knees.

“All for a cock?” He laughed, pushing hair strands out of her face.

“Fuck me.” She begged, digging her nails into his tatted skin.

“Should I though? I mean it’s too big for your tight cunt.” He pretended to hesitate, placing his cock from the base near her pussy, allowing it to stand reaching her stomach.

“See? I could probably move your womb if I want to.” He mocked her with every single word he spewed. And of course, she loved it.

She went crazy for how he degraded her and made her feel small. He knew that her exact weakness was their size difference and how he rearranged her insides with how deep he went.

“Please, I need to cum.” She grinded her dripping pussy against his shaft, earning a harsh slap to her her engorged clitoris.

“So fucking needy and whiny for my cock.” He lined up the tip with her entrance and slid in swiftly.

The relief on her face once he entered her was fucking priceless. God, he lived for her pussy and intimacy. She had him hooked.

“Is that how you want me to treat you? Like you’re just a hole?” His hips snapped against hers as her cries filled the small space.

“Well guess what darling? You’re nothing more than that.” He landed a harsh slap to her ass, before bringing his hand to her throat.

“Harder. You own me, Harry.” She managed to speak despite the tight grip.

“I know I fucking do.” He sneered, plowing into her like a madman.

It was on a whole other level of pleasure and craziness. A psychotic lust. He placed all of his godly stamina into claiming her pussy.

Her face scrunched in both pleasure and pain. An expression that he loved.

“Oh good, does that hurt?” He tilted his head to the side, not forgetting to glance at her bouncing breasts.

She nodded weakly at his question, with her nails scratching down his back over previous scars caused by their rough sex.

“As it fucking should. My pretty fuckdoll. What do you say?”

“Tha—Thank you.” She breathed out.

The sound of skin slapping intensified, he was hitting her cervix with every thrust, deeper and deeper. Their fucks were filthier than orgies.

“Now cum on my cock so I could fill this pussy up.” He whispered in her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.

She had been waiting all night for his cue, almost cried even. He teased her continuously for his pleasure and mocked her tightness when he knew how stretched she was.

“Uh—ohh.” Their faces were inches apart and he stared into her eyes right as her orgasm hit her. Her body was lit on fire as she moaned audibly, and clung onto him. He kept fucking her through her high, feeling the wetness drip down his thighs.

He was about to follow her and allow himself a release but instead, he turned the water off.

“Can’t have the water wash my cum away, it should be deep inside of you.” He panted heavily and caressed her flushed cheeks.

The moment he said that she knew she was in for a long night of rounds, orgasms, and humiliation.

And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

——————————————————

Taglist: @prettythingsworld-blog @slut4marvelmenn @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf @cherrys4suckers @straightontilmornin @stilesissaved @daphnesutton @elioslover

If your tag is red, then it didn’t work.

[rose-pearls]

Healing one cut at a time

Summary : Clarisse first goes to the med bay because she is forced by one of her siblings but the following times are just to see the daughter of Apollo again.

Requests are open!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989

“I told you; I am fine!”, you can hear someone grumble from behind you but you turn back to the twelve-year-old girl in front of you that had fallen and twisted her ankle.

“And I am telling you that you should just go to make sure it is fine,” as you turn around to find what the squabbling is all about, you find Clarisse and one of her brothers glaring at each other.

You couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sight of Clarisse, she had her hair down after capture the flag, and somehow still looked beautiful after running around for three hours.

Clearing your throat, you smiled awkwardly at the two Ares children who looked surprised at your sudden appearance.

“How can I help you?”, you ask softly, after a few seconds of awkward silence. Clarisse seems struck as she watches you with wide eyes, her brother has a smirk as he turns back to you.

“Right, this one was hurt during capture the flag and although it doesn’t look too bad, we just wanted to be sure.”, he says, and you can see Clarisse coming back to herself at her brother’s words.

“You wanted to be sure,” she says with a scowl on her lips, and even then, you can’t stop thinking that she looks stunning.

“Well let’s just make sure, we never know,” you tell them before nodding towards the small bed in the corner.

She doesn’t look so hurt, so you’re surprised to see a cut in her leg, probably done by a sword but she doesn’t look affected at all.

“The good news is that it doesn’t look too deep so I just need to disinfect it and it will be all new after that,” you tell the two as you look over the cut.

As you look up from the wound you see a wide-eyed Clarisse staring back at you, rosy cheeks and owlish brown eyes making your stomach flutter.

“Great!”, you hear suddenly as her brother claps in his hands making the both of you jump in surprise.

“I’ll go get the product.”, you quickly whisper, feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught looking at the girl.

You can hear the both of them arguing, particularly Clarisse scowling her brother, while he seems far too happy to be in the med bay.

“Someone needs to push you,” you hear him say before you arrive and the both of them turn to you, their conversation suddenly over.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” you can’t help but say and the both of them shake their heads in disagreement.

“You didn’t!”, her brother says, and you nod slowly before taking the product and softly taking Clarisse leg in your hand.

“This might hurt a little,” you warn her even though you know that the girl will probably not show any type of weakness.

You whisper a few words under your breath as you pass the product on her cut and after a moment it starts healing itself.

“There you go, all new,” you say, and Clarisse seems a bit disappointed at the sight.

“Right, thank you I guess.”, she says after clearing her throat.

“Thank you for the help! We better get going,” he says before taking Clarisse with him, the girl looking back one last time with a timid smile, one that you would’ve never thought you would see Clarisse wearing. 

--

She was being stupid, she knew it, hell her whole cabin knew it too, but she just couldn’t stop going to see you at the med bay. She would use every excuse possible, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and you sweet smile.

“Clarisse, what happened this time?”, she hears you ask, your voice like music to her ears.

“My idiot of a brother didn’t watch where he was throwing his arrow,” she says, feeling slightly ashamed of the fact that she had been here every day until you smile at her warmly.

“Come sit down, I’ll look over it,” she does as is said and can’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of you taking care of her. 

She didn’t want to feel weak, and the way she felt weak at your touch made her scared, but she couldn’t help coming back and having your whole attention solely focused on her. Her father would probably be telling her that she was weak but when you would talk with her softly, as to not disturb the sleeping children, she couldn’t help but forget all about him.

“You’re beautiful,” she realizes she has said the words before she can think not to say them. There is a loud silence, as you look at her slightly in shock, like a fish out of water.

You open your mouth to say something but before she let’s you have the opportunity to respond she fled the scene. Her face is hot with shame and embarrassment at her slip up, already making a plan at how to best escape the situation, and you specifically. That is until she feels a hand on her arm, making her turn around to face you.

You look slightly breathless from having ran after her, but you still look as beautiful as the first day she had seen you. She had fallen for you the moment she saw you; her siblings had quickly caught onto her crush and as much as they teased her, they would often tell her in the quiet of the night that she should go for it, go for the little sunshine that she could have. 

“You often leave a conversation without letting the other person answer?”, she hears you say, making her look at you in surprise.

“Guess I didn’t know how you would react,” she can’t help but say as she looks into your sad eyes.

“Well, maybe if you had stayed a bit longer you could have heard my response,” you say with a soft smile.

“What is that?”, the curiosity is killing her, but she also feels scared for the first time in a long time. 

“That I think that you are beautiful, probably a thousand more times than me,” she hears you say, and she suddenly feels breathless at your words but can’t help but disagree with a scoff.

“Please, you are the most beautiful woman, even Aphrodite herself would be jealous of your beauty,” the words are filled with passion, a passion that she usually only held for fighting and capture the flag. The surprise in your eyes make her feel suddenly shy, but as you get closer to her, she gets a whiff of your perfume making her relax slightly.

“That is probably not true but thank you,” you whisper, now closer to her than you have been before, but she still scoffs as she hears you disagree with her previous statement.

She gets ready to argue but before she can start, she feels your lips against hers, and for a moment she can’t think. Her stomach is bursting with butterflies and the smell of you is all around her.

Just as she feels you stopping the kiss, she wraps her hands around your cheeks, bringing you into a passionate kiss, hoping to make you understand everything she feels for you.

“You drive me crazy, sunshine,” she whispers, breathless, after the most dizzying kiss and she wants to kiss you again until she has no air in her lungs.

Your small giggle makes her smile and peck your lips softly.

“Who knew you could be so sweet La Rue,” she hears you whisper teasingly against her lips, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at your words.

“Only for you. Better keep this to yourself because it could ruin my reputation,” she says, a small warning in her voice but you just nod in agreement.

“We should go back to the med bay to look at that cut of yours,” she hears you say, a worried tone coating your words.

“Don’t worry beautiful, I’m fine. The only thing I need right know is you close to me and kisses,” she says as she brings you even closer by the waist, with a smirk as she sees you blushing.

“That can be arranged,” you whisper against her lips before she brings you back into another mind-blowing kiss.

[avtrbee]

the prince

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig

✢ a/n: i’m not gonna lie to you guys, i know i’ve been a while and im really ashamed that i come back with something that i believe this isn’t my best work at all. i had this prompt in my head for a long time and i have wanted to publish this ever since. always love hearing from all of you and i’d like to get some feedback as well <33

You were a clan kid fortunate enough to be born with the clan’s cursed technique but unfortunate enough to be a woman. Your childhood tutors had drilled the duties of wives in your head, and had made you comfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. You pride yourself as a good traditional daughter, whose greatest honor would be marrying your husband.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself caring for a child that is not yours.

That was, of course, until you met your husband.

You have heard of Gojo Satoru before and fought him a few times during sister-school events, but never in your life did you think he’d be who you were destined for. Still, he surprised you.

“You are my wife, my equal,” he promises you at the night of your wedding. The ceremony was over and the guests have gone home. You have said your vows in front of the gods and they have bounded you to this man.

He drags you off to bed and makes you sit on the floor with him.

Satoru looks at you with the moon shining on him making him look like an ethereal god. And to you, he was. Which is why you tilt your head at his statement. “Gojo-sama, I do not understand-”

“Satoru,” he says. “I am your husband, you should call me by my name y’know.” His voice is light and teasing, underplaying the reality of the situation. “I don’t want a slave. I want a confidant. A partner. I need someone. Do you understand?”

You nod. Strangely you do. “We must protect each other.”

You were both very lonely people thrust into a union none of you asked for. There are targets on your backs for sins you cannot control. You were alone, but not anymore.

Your husband nods and he takes his glasses off. You realize for the nth time that Satoru is a pretty, pretty man. His blue eyes shine and twinkle like the stars above.

He reaches for your hand- a strange gesture but you allow it anyway. “I will do right by you,” he promises. In his mind he remembers his mother, the one who loves too much but is loved so less. Like her, Satoru’s marriage is arranged by the clan. But he will not be his father.

He is a man of his word.

The next morning you find yourself waking to an empty bed with a smell of burning food. You catch your husband defeated before the stove with burnt scrambled egg on the table. “This is what couples do, right?”

You stare at him, simply horrified that you had failed to wake up first. You were supposed to cook him breakfast, not the other way around.

Satoru catches your expression. “Hey! It’s not that bad!” He pokes the pathetic excuse of a scrambled egg. His mother had always cooked for the family, it shouldn’t have been this hard. “…right?”

You ban him from your kitchen.

He takes you to the school next. You walk behind him, as is the norm, but Satoru makes a face that pushes you to stay beside him. His voice echoes in your head, you are my wife, my equal.

The weather was perfect, but he fusses about the fact that you decided to wear a sleeveless sundress that he deems inappropriate for the wind.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow suspiciously, like he does not believe you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his. His face morphs to an expression of victory. “Ha! Your hands are cold. You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.” He spits, but his voice lacks venom. You pretend to ignore his poor excuse to hold your hand. Deep inside you like it. Romance is for fiction and some anime you were lucky enough to watch. A distinguished member of your the Gojo clan does not deserve it, but your husband is a romantic.

He stops you from walking out of the shade of the trees and into the sunshine. He opens his tote bag and points to a closed umbrella. “Do you need this? To protect you from- y’know.”

His points up to the sun.

Against your will you find his needless worrying endearing. He does not know his role as a husband well, but he is trying. When you finally arrive inside the Tokyo school, his hand is still clasped in your. Satoru is loud and proud when he introduces you to everyone, even if you have done nothing to deserve such pride. His co-workers pity you for being married to him and offer their condolences. Satoru protests strongly.

“Y/N loves spending time with me!” he says, stomping his feet like a child. He tugs your hand and looks at you in support. “Right?”

You smile and nod. You do. You wonder if you may love him someday.

-

The night is dark, and Satoru is not home yet. It has been a slow 8 months since your marriage. The ladies from your clan were wrong. Your husband is not cruel. He does not scold you if you use your cursed technique even when you accidentally use it on him.

You have never been someone good with words, so you decide to bake him a simple carrot cake. Your husband has a sweet tooth and he has a penchant of liking things better if it came from you.

You had only just finished adding icing the cake when you felt Satoru’s cursed energy through the door. You take a look at your cake one last time before heading towards the door to greet him.

Traditionally a wife must wait for her husband to enter in the middle of the room kneeling for supplication- a tradition most ingrained in your head more than most. As a compromise, Satoru suggested to have you greet him by the door instead because- “The first thing I want to see when I get home is your cute face. Obviously.”

You dust off imaginary crumbs off your hands by wiping it on your pants before sliding the door open.

“Welcome ho-”

In front of you, Satoru looks cold. You wonder if this is how others see him. He looks down at you with a cold gaze, He does not tremble. There is a child in his arms.

Both child and Satoru looks at you with twin cold eyes. You shiver. “He’s mine.”

You hear maids scuffle from behind you, but you do not care. The child innocently rests his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder looking at you.

There is no doubt the child is his. Your husband’s hair is on his head and dear god- their eyes. They have the same eyes.

In your head you hear the ladies of your clan again. Stand tall, Y/N. They may have their mistresses, but you will always be his true wife.

Of course you knew about Satoru’s womanizer past- present. Are you upset? Are you angry? You do not know, truly. You are simply confused.

Your clan’s ladies have prepared you for worst; what to do when your husband brings home another woman, what to say if they came home violent, where to go if you are too broken and beaten to sleep beside him. But what if your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

There is a pain in your chest you do not understand. This is expected! Men cannot be held down by just their wives. Did you expect him to be different? A cold fury washes over you

“Welcome home.” You finish instead.

-

check out my masterlist, and don’t forget to lmk how i can improve this fic <33

[wicchyy]

—0.5 flipped ; james potter

sum: you’ve been obsessed with James since you met him, but he doesn’t feel nearly the same. then, he’s flipped.

warnings: James throwing his breakfast in the trash

notes: this was inspired by the movie ‘flipped’. delulu girls win!!! sorry for being a bit too long, this is different from my usual works !

These are all the things people know about James Potter; he’s a skilled quidditch player, one of the smartest students in your grade, a lightweight, and he can manage his time well between practice, classes, and parties.

But those things, they’re just surface stuff. These are what you know about James Potter; he has the most beautiful brown curls, hazel eyes that change between brown and green depending on the sunlight, a delirious laughter, and the most flirty drunk you’ve ever known.

Sirius introduced you to James during your second year. And since the moment you saw him, robes askew, chocolate smeared all over his cheeks, and glasses slanted on his face— you’ve been in love with him since.

Maybe it was love at first sight, the plausible explanation. Or perhaps it was obsession. Either way, you haven’t paid attention to anyone other than James Potter himself.

“Hey, Siri. Hi, Remus. Have either of you seen James? I thought you lot finished practice minutes ago.”

Sirius nodded, chewing down the rest of his waffles before replying. “Mhm. Doing extra rounds, Prongs looks a bit stressed on the field today.”

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands together, “I’ll just bring some breakfast down for him.”

“Actually, Y/n! I don’t think you should—“ Remus interferes.

“Don’t worry, Remus. I’ll be sure to get two waffles. I know he gets hungry after practice.”

Remus tried to protest again, but Sirius waved him off with a look that said ‘what can we even do to prevent it?’

…

In the middle of December, snow covers the Hogwarts ground. You’re careful as you hold onto the napkin that holds James’ breakfast. The quidditch field isn’t far off the castle grounds, so you make haste of your movements and quickly head to the entrance of the Gryffindor locker rooms.

“James?” You shout, stepping inside until you see the one and only locker door open and the curly headed boy lying on the wooden bench in the middle of the room.

He immediately stands up, the voice all too familiar for him to not flinch. “Y/n?”

You appear in front of him with a wide smile, grinning happily as you set the breakfast in front of him on the bench. “Hi! You didn’t come for breakfast so I asked Siri where you where and he mentioned you’re practicing extra by yourself. So I figure you’d be—“

“Y/n!” James shouts louder.

“.. So I figured you’d be hungry.” You finished, your voice lower this time like you’d been caught red handed at something.

“Thanks. But no thanks.” He smiles forcefully. He grabs at the napkins holding the waffles and two pieces of strawberry, crumpling it in his hands and aiming it for the big black bin at the corner of the room.

Of course it lands perfectly inside, and he huffs an angry breath as he takes in your flushed, ashamed look.

“Look, just like you noticed, I wasn’t at breakfast. Because I don’t want breakfast. I’m not in the mood, yeah, Y/l/n? And I don’t need you trailing after me like a lost fucking puppy you want to feed breakfast. I’m not your anything, understand?”

Harsh. His words struck you in the gut. Maybe you should’ve listened to Remus earlier. James had never been practicing late unless he was ordered to. And you should’ve remembered it was winter as well. No one would willingly practice more quidditch than required in the harsh December winds.

“I— I’m sorry.” Your face flushed. You had to admit, you’d never been so embarrassed quite like this moment before. “I thought it’d be a nice thing.”

James stood up, picking up his towel, a spare shirt, and his knit beanie and stuck it in his locker before banging it roughly.

“If I haven’t made myself clear all these years, Y/n, let me make it clearer. I’m not interested.” He scoffed. “And I won’t be fucking interested because you bought me breakfast.”

You were left standing in embarrassment. Your eye making contact just a second with James, then to the bin where the breakfast you had bought for him was thrown in.

“Just back off, Y/n. I mean in.”

…

James had been feeling pretty guilty for the whole week. Yes, he was annoyed by you at the moment and yes, he’s always been annoyed by you. But all the times he’s ever been annoyed with you, none of those times has he said something like that. And after careful realisation, he’s understood that his words may have hurt you a tad bit.

He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how. Especially not to you. So he doesn’t. James doesn’t apologize for weeks, and then a month, and then he finally comes to terms with the fact that his brain somehow misses your annoying face, your annoying voice, and your annoying personality always annoying him.

“I have a question.” James interrupted his friends who were mountain deep in their homework.

“Hm.” Sirius shot lowly while he closed his subject book, “Go on. Think I’m done for the day.”

Remus shot his eyes at the interaction between his friends, leaning back on his seat to pay attention to James.

“So, you lot know about the incident a month ago, yeah?”

Sirius scoffed, “Mate, the bin waffle? Course we know!”

“Not really something to brag about, Prongs.” Remus chimed in.

“Look, I know. I’ve done some thinking and—“

“You wanna apologize to her?”

James stayed silent, “Well, I—“

Remus shot his friend a look of pity, “Honestly, you should’ve done it months ago. We know you may not like her, but she’s still mine and Pads’ close friend. And yes, she’s done so many things to annoy you but ..”

Sirius continued, “But it was a really shit thing to say. And you were fucking rude! I mean honestly, Prongs! Throwing out the waffles? Not necessary!”

“I know, I know. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about it recently and I want to apologize, really. But I dunno— things are just confusing.”

“How is it confusing? You just need to walk over to her and apologize.” Remus shrugs.

“That’s not it, Moony. It’s more confusing, like— I don’t even know how to explain it, y’know. Like, I used to be so fucking annoyed and pissed when she’s around. But now, it’s like somethings missing. Something like .. her.”

Sirius scoffs, “Shut the fuck up!”

James looks confused, “What—?”

“Shut up!”

“Literally not saying a word.”

Sirius stands up, “James Potter!” his hands banging on the table until the librarian is ordering him to calm down.

Remus looks up at him and pulls Sirius’ hand to sit back down at his chair. “Maybe you should tell him quietly.”

“I love how much you don’t notice, mate. You’ve got a crush on her, Prongs!”

James scoffed, his arms immediately crossing. “No I don’t.”

“Yes, you very much do.” Remus replied.

Sirius smiles, “You may not have liked her when she was bothering you, but you sure are thinking of her when she’s gone.”

“That’s nothing. It’s just cause I feel bad.”

“No you don’t!”

“I actually do, Pads. That’s why I’m bringing this up.”

Sirius scoffs with a wide smile, “No you’re bringing this up because you need to talk about it.”

“Well— yes. Because I need advice on how to apologize.”

“No, mate. Prongs, you’ve totally got a crush on her!”

“I don’t!”

“You’re so stubborn, mate. You know that saying ‘you lose them and then you know’? Thats you!”

Remus interjects, “Actually, the saying is ‘you don’t realize what you’ve got till it’s gone’. But yes, I do think it resembles this situation.”

“It doesn’t resemble anything. Besides, if she is here right now I’m positive I’d be annoyed just the same. I just feel bad for the .. waffle incident.”

“Wrong. Don’t believe it.”

Sirius looks across the table where James is and gives him a dumbfounded look. “Alright, fine. If you really think that, then what d’you say to a bet, huh? We prove that you’ve got feelings for her and if we succeed you pay for all your drinks whenever we go out for a whole month.”

James rolls his eyes, “And how would you prove that? She’s not even talking to me.”

Remus shoots Sirius a coy smile, the gears in his head turning as he makes up a plan in his head. “Well we’d just apologize to her for you and ask her to hang out with us. Then we’ll see your reactions and … other things.”

“Perfect plan!” Sirius chimes excitedly.

“I don’t agree to all of this.”

“That’s cause you’re scared to show us you actually do have a crush on Y/n.”

“One, I don’t. And second, fine. I’ll agree. But if this doesn’t prove anything and I’m right all along that I do not have a crush on her, you both will be doing my Arithmancy for a month.”

“Really? Why’d you even take that elective?” Sirius scoffs.

James smirks and extends his hand for a shake, “Deal?”

Remus shakes James’ hand quickly as his boyfriend beside him makes a sound of protest. “Moony! It’s Arithmancy, I thought we’d just have a counter agreement.”

“Come on, Pads, I’ll be doing all the work anyways.”

…

You clutched your books tightly, the familiar weight providing little comfort as you walked the corridors of the castle. Resentment and annoyance simmered within you since the incident with James.

As Sirius and Remus approached you after class, your expression soured. "What do you two want now?"

Sirius cleared his throat, putting on a cheery facade. "Hey, Y/n! Prongs wanted us to extend his apologies again for the breakfast thing. He's really sorry, you know?"

Your eyes narrowed at Sirius. "Sorry? James is sorry for tossing away the breakfast I brought for him without a second thought?"

"Yeah, he's been beating himself up about it. Really wants to make it right," Remus chimed in, attempting to sound convincing.

Your frustration reached its peak. "Is he? It's easy to be sorry now, isn't it? But where was his remorse when he threw the waffles in the bin like it was nothing? Tell James I don't need his apologies.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance. Remus spoke softly, "Y/n, we understand how you feel, but Prongs is really trying to make amends. It might help if you could give him a chance to apologize properly."

"Yeah," Sirius added, his tone earnest, "We all miss hanging out together, and Prongs, he genuinely wants to make things right. Look, we’re all hanging in the commons just after classes are done.”

You hesitated, torn between your anger and their earnest plea. After a moment of contemplation, you sighed. "Fine, I'll be there. But not because of James. I'm doing this because both of you are my friends. And I’ve missed hanging."

As you walked away, Sirius and Remus exchanged relieved smiles, hoping that this hangout might just make them win the bet.

…

i - reconciliation

You sat in one corner of the Gryffindor common room, a book in hand, although your mind was elsewhere. Sirius and Remus hovered nearby, trying to create a relaxed atmosphere, but the tension lingered like a thick fog in the room.

When James entered, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes fleetingly met yours before darting away, a visible unease surrounding him.

"Hey, Y/n!" Sirius exclaimed cheerfully, attempting to break the heavy atmosphere. "We’ve been thinking of names for Moony’s new owl!"

"Yeah .. definitely that," Remus added, striving to mask the tension in his voice.

James cautiously approached, his gaze finally meeting yours. "Y/n, can we talk?" His voice was quiet, carrying an earnest plea.

You hesitated momentarily, then nodded, reluctantly setting aside your book and following James to a quieter corner of the room.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," James began, his voice laced with genuine regret. "I was thoughtless and I hurt you. I don't expect forgiveness, but I want you to know I'm really sorry."

As James spoke, his eyes held a raw sincerity that tugged at your heartstrings. The hurt remained, but you found yourself softening, unable to resist the depth of emotion in his gaze. Your own feelings for him, buried deep within, began to stir, making forgiveness a more feasible option.

"You did hurt me, James," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But..." You hesitated, your resolve faltering as emotions swirled within you. His eyes, filled with remorse, seemed to tug your emotions. "I appreciate the apology. And I... I forgive you."

Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus tried to lighten the mood by engaging everyone in different activities. Yet, in the corner where you and James stood, the emotions were palpable, the unspoken tension slowly dissolving with your admission.

Conversations flowed more easily throughout the evening, punctuated by shared smiles and lingering gazes between you and James.

Beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding seemed to grow between you and James, sparking a flicker of hope for reconciliation.

Remus and Sirius settled into a quiet couple, minding their own business. You took the moment to excuse yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness. You’ve never been in the situation without being so all up in James’ business. James watched you leave, a mix of relief and gratitude evident in his eyes.

…

ii - jealousy

“What do you guys think of Cassius Flintwood?” James broke the silence at his table. His friends looked up from their work, giving James a puzzled expression.

“Nothing. Other than he’s probably the saving grace of Ravenclaw’s abomination quidditch team.” Sirius shrugged.

“Yeah, that. And he tutors Marlene, oh and Y/n— wait, are you asking cause you’re seeing him tutoring Y/n?”

Sirius gasps, immediately turning around to see where James’ eyes are making intense eye contact to. “Prongs, you’re jealous. Christ, this is perfect! Might as well just go get drinks right now, cause we’ve won!”

James rolls his eyes, head making contact with the wooden table as he lays his head down. “Shut up, Pads. I’m not jealous, jus’ asking.”

“Mhm. Definitely.” Remus chuckles.

“I’m so confused with everything. I apologized to her, we’re good. Why’s she .. I dunno, distancing herself still?”

“You dimwit.” Sirius says with a hint of shock, his hand slapping the top of James’ head. “You have a big ego James Potter. D’you honestly think she’d just go back to obsessing over you?”

James lifts his head up and rolls his eyes “No, that’s not what I meant. Just—“

“Look, mate,” Remus interferes, “If you’re that bothered by her and Cassius just go over there and study with them. Sure he won’t mind.”

“What? I can’t do that.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, “So you’re admitting that it does bother you?”

“No! She’s just having a tutoring session.” A tutoring session that involves Cassius touching her arm and making her laugh. She’s probably not learning anything right now. James’ annoying head thinks.

“Then stop looking at them.” Sirius warns.

“Y’know what, I’m tired. Might just fit a nap in before my late classes.” He begins to stand and collect his things. Just before putting everything inside his satchel, an idea pops into mind.

James glances at the thick Potions book beside him along with other books stacked below it. He lays his hand flat on the wooden surface and gives it a small shove, making the stack of books clattering on the floor and making a loud echo throughout the library.

Sirius just scoffs at his friends’ action, meanwhile a smile plays at Remus’ lips, clearly understanding the dumb little trick that James has just performed.

In a second, your eyes landed on James for almost the tenth time. When you see him finally collecting all the books from the floor, you make eye contact. His face is red, a hint of embarrassment showing on his cheeks. A small smile twitches on your lips, trying not to let it show to James.

James kept a steady hand in the table and lifted himself up, quickly putting his books inside his satchel and making haste of his exit from the library.

“Think we’ve got this bet in the bag, Pads.” Remus says.

…

iii - realisation

The Quidditch pitch resonated with the energy of practice, but James's mind was elsewhere as he maneuvered through the air on his broom. Sirius watched from the sidelines, unable to ignore James's distracted flying.

"Oi, Prongs, you’re flying like you’ve got a Bludger lodged in your head. What’s going on?” Sirius remarked, concern etched into his tone.

James landed his broom, "Just not in the zone today, I guess," he muttered, trying to downplay his disarray.

Sirius crossed his arms, gaze unwavering. "It's about Y/n, isn't it?"

James faltered, caught off guard by Sirius' directness. "Maybe," he admitted, a tinge of regret lacing his words.

Sirius arched an eyebrow, probing gently. "You miss her, don't you?"

James sighed, the weight of his unresolved feelings palpable. "It's more than that, Sirius. I've been a complete prat to her all these years," he confessed, his voice tinged with remorse.

Sirius's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You mean treating her like a pest?"

James nodded, guilt weighing heavily on him. "Exactly. I never gave her a chance and, Christ, I feel awful for it. She's been nothing but a good friend, maybe a tad obsessive but .. I've been too blind to see it."

“It’s fine, mate. Least you’ve figured it out now. Who knew the waffle incident would’ve caused this, huh?”

"I dunno though,” James admitted, a mix of regret and uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "It's like realizing something you should have known all along."

Sirius gave his friend a coy smile, "Give yourself time, mate. Just remember, she's not going anywhere. Maybe it's a good thing to figure it out now, yeah?"

James nodded, a mix of emotions swirling within him. With Sirius's encouragement, James readied himself to get back on his broom.

…

iv - confession

The first thing James saw when he entered the common room was you. Sat there in your too big sweater and a book huddled in your lap. His heart beats nervously as he walks closer to try and calm himself down.

“Y/n!" James greeted, trying to hide the hint of nerves in his voice.

You glanced up from your book, smiling warmly at his approach. "Hey.”

Taking a seat beside you, James fiddled with the sleeve of his robe, trying to find the right words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Reflecting, you know?" he started, eyes darting to meet yours.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about where this was going. "Reflecting about what?"

James let out a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, you see, I've had this knack for making a right mess of things. Especially when it comes to... certain people."

Your lips curved into a small smile, sensing the playful tone in his words. "Certain people?”

"Right, so I've been a bit dim, maybe blind even. Overlooked something that's been there all along."

"James Potter, are you about to confess your undying love for someone?"

James laughed, a touch of color rising to his cheeks. That laugh that you could get high on no matter the situation. Well, it's not quite as dramatic as that, but..." James took a breath, looking straight into your eyes. "Maybe I've been a bit of a fool. Y/n, you uh … , are more than just a friend to me. You're, uh, rather important."

Your smile widened, realizing the sincerity behind his playful demeanor. "Oh really? Important, am I?" You teased lightly.

He nodded, his smile widening. "Yeah, you are. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I rather like having you around, you know?"

Your smile softened, this was the moment you’ve dreamt for probably millions of times. Truthfully it wasn’t as dramatic as you’d expect. But having to see James in his awkwardness, words falling clumsily from his mouth and making eye contact with you, it was a moment you’d dream of. That was how much you were in love with the boy.

"As long as you mean it, Potter."

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

[tasteracha]

a/n: my comeback in the form of a disorganized half silly half poetic felix. thing. inspired by him looking divine enough to lick after walking the runway.

warnings: lix is a little mean and condescending, fem!reader

your lips are on his before he makes it through the door, a sweet smell from the roses crushed between the two of you erupting into the room. you’d been all but waiting at the door since he left for paris, too busy with work and life to take him up on his invitation to join him, though it hurt more than it should have to see him there without you.

“you looked so good, still do, oh my god,” you say against his lips, kisses complimenting every word. 

“thank you, darling,” he pulls away to set the flowers down, and there’s so many. what were you even going to do with all of that? a problem for later, you decide, instead prioritizing entering his personal space once again. 

you take his face in your hands, gentle as to not smear the careful swipes of makeup there - that would be a task for later. it seemed like he didn’t have the opportunity to change and shower before he came home to you, and in your head it had more to do with his desire to see you than the timing of his flight following the after party. you take in the browns brushed across his eyelids, the gentle flush of blush highlighting his cheekbone, the shininess of his eyes as he lets your eyes feast on the delicacy of his features. he’s dressed smartly in a crisp white button-up shirt and high-waisted black slacks that sat around his waist and curved perfectly around his ass. you brush one hand through his wavy, iridescent hair and it’s so feather soft that you can barely feel it passing through your fingers. specks of glitter fall out of it like angel dust and the urge to call him pretty passes through the forefront of your thoughts. you don’t think you will ever get tired of telling him how beautiful he is. 

“never cut your hair again,” you demand, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and twirling the strands between your fingertips. “you look like an angel, lix.”

“okay,” he grins, nuzzling his hand into your palm. “you might have to work it out with the stylists on that, though.”

“i’ll fight them with my bare hands,” you’re completely serious, and fondness takes over his features when he sees the sharpening of your brow and the set of your mouth. “if they bring a pair of scissors near you they’ll face my wrath.”

“down, baby,” he chuckles and removes your hands from his face, holding them in his and keeping you close. “let me get out of these clothes and i’ll let you tell me all about how you’re going to dismantle the stylist empire, alright?”

“no,” you whine, and you’re almost embarrassed at how needy you sound. you were desperate for him, sure, but you weren’t a child. “wanna stare at you forever. everyone else got you for so long, now you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” he echoes, love and affection dripping off of his words like syrup. “but in five minutes, i’ll be yours but wearing a hoodie. how does that sound?”

“fine,” you relent, releasing him completely so he could scamper away at the chance he was given. he was smart like that. 

five minutes, he had said. it took you about one and a half to lose patience and pad over to the bedroom. the door was open, all thoughts of privacy gone after you had reached the first year of your relationship. 

you find him in his boxers, wiping his shoulders with a damp towel and you pounce, trapping him underneath you on the bed. your hips are lined up with his from where you’re straddling him and you can feel his cock jump with interest against your core. 

“this is surprising,” he starts, and you have snark waiting on your tongue about how he should have expected this before he continues. “i thought you would have come in earlier, at least i had time to get undressed.”

“lix, you’re just so beautiful,” embarrassment rushes to your cheeks as you duck your head, ashamed and delighted at having your desperation for him verbalized like this. “can you blame me for wanting you?”

“of course not, darling,” he soothes you with fingertips to your forehead, brushing off tufts of hair that fall back into place right after. “i want you just as much.”

“good,” you grind down on him, savoring how he hisses at the contact. you get a moment of satisfaction before he switches, flipping the both of you over in one practiced move. you end up beneath him, your wrists pinned over your head and his thigh wedged between yours. 

“but i think you may benefit from learning a bit of patience, hmm?” he ghosts his lips over your cheek, running the top of his nose against yours. his hands leave your hands to wander over your sides, running up the hem of your shirt and towards your breasts; you weren’t wearing a bra, so he had easy access to your nipples and he took full advantage of this. 

the sensation isn’t enough, heat already pulsing in your core at just the look of him. you try to buck your hips up against his thigh but the angle is all off and you give up in frustration after a few attempts. you hated and loved when he got like this - teasing, controlling, edging on condescending. it was so unlike him in any other way that it sent sparks of excitement tingling up your spine. 

“giving up so easily?” he smirks, and even that is soft around the edges in a confusingly adorable way. you never know what he wanted, and that made it even more fun. did he want you to act desperate or be patient?

you voiced as such, and he tutted and moved to get off of you with a shake of his head. his hands leave your shirt and you grasp for him, nails scrabbling against his bare chest and leaving lines of red in their wake. he pauses, leaning over you like a fallen deity and you almost falter, but the need to get one over on him wins over. 

“if you don’t touch me, i’ll just do it myself,” you reach one of your hands towards your shorts, fully intending to go through with your word. it wasn’t much of a threat, but you knew it would work on him. or well, you hoped it would. 

“but darling, i am touching you,” he moves his thigh, still flush between your legs and you jolt. of course he would get the angle right. “you’re this worked up and you haven’t even told me what you wanted from me yet.”

“you know what i want,” you mumble, fire rushing to your cheeks again at having been outsmarted by him again. you should be used to this by now, but it ignites feelings inside of you as if they were the first time you were experiencing them, time and time again. 

“i want to hear you say it,” he purrs, falling back against you and pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. “i want to hear how badly you want me. i want to know what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself while i was gone.”

you want to deny his words, want to tell him that you didn’t think of him at all, but you knew he would see right through you. you loved him with every aching beat of your swollen heart, you couldn’t deny anything even if it was just to keep up the dynamic he had started. 

“i thought of you inside of me,” he pinches your side and compliments it with a nip to the shell of your ear, his breath hot on your skin. not good enough, he says with his actions. “nothing else feels like you. i couldn’t finish without you- ah.”

your breath is pushed out of your chest as he begins to kiss down your neck, his lips finding every sensitive spot on your skin like he was tracing a line that he had drawn on you.

“t-thought about the first time we had sex, when i knew i wouldn’t fuck anyone else for the rest of my life,” you might have been laying it on a little thick, but you knew he would fall for it. he might have teased you for being possessive, but he returned every inch with a mile, even if he was better at hiding it. he groans against you, tightening the hold he had around your waist, and you knew you had him. 

“flatterer,” he says, less of a tease and more of a statement. he rewards your efforts by slipping his hand into your shorts, rubbing at your pussy through your panties. you had a second to worry about the wetness that had been collecting there, but it fizzled out with the pressure of his fingertips. 

“wanted you to be here, to keep me full all day,” you were babbling now, saying anything to keep him going. as slow as he was being, you had no doubt that he would walk away just to keep up the act he had put on tonight. he was stronger than you in that way, one step ahead just by sheer force of will. “was hearing your voice in my head, telling me how good i was, how good you felt.”

“my darling is always good,” he murmurs, pushing aside your panties to slide his fingers against your clit. you never understood how a man who couldn’t tell the difference between a fruit and a vegetable was such an expert in your anatomy, but you weren’t one to complain, at least not about that. “even when you’re being a brat, you’re good.”

too soon, he removes his fingers from your core, wiping them against your shorts and shushing you when you open your mouth in protest. 

“i’m not going anywhere,” he assures, staying close as he kneels over you. “just let me get you undressed, unless you want to stay like that?” 

“dick,” you narrow your eyes, “i’m not going to answer that.”

“do you want my dick or am i a dick?” he pauses his hands, shorts and panties halfway down your thigh from where he had pulled them and you huff out a laugh.

“you’re hilarious,” you deadpan, kicking your foot to urge him to keep going as you lift your shirt off to quicken the process. you needed his dick inside of you like, yesterday. preferably. 

he pulls off his own briefs and they float to join yours on the floor and you can finally see his cock, half hard and pink and flushed and perfect. 

god, everything about him was perfect. 

you spread your legs a bit, smiling when his hungry eyes land on your pussy, now fully on display. you could see the fight in him fizzling out; for all his talk, he was apart from you for so long, and as strong of a man he was everyone had a weakness. 

he crawls back over you, stroking himself until he’s fully hard and leaking. he braces himself with one hand by your head, the veins on his arm popping at the exertion of keeping himself held up, the other hand guiding his cock into your folds to swipe against the wetness that had built up there. 

“c’mon, lix,” you turn your head to press a kiss to his wrist, the delicate flesh feeling fever hot against your lips, and you can feel him trembling. “i’ve unintentionally edged myself for days, take me.”

“what did i say about patience?” he grunts out, but there is no bite in his words and despite their implication he presses the head of his cock against your hole. 

you can’t help but tense up in excitement, the one thing you’d been craving for several nights finally within your grasp. he ducks his head to kiss you, mumbling a relax, baby against your lips and at once your body melts into the mattress. 

when he finally slides into you it’s like coming home, the feeling of two imperfect pieces slotting together to create a masterpiece. everything else in the world fades away and it’s just him, the feeling of him inside of you and on top of you, his face taking over your vision and his scent invading your nostrils like a drug. 

on another day he might have spent hours taking you apart with his mouth, teasing you with his fingers in ghosted touches and playful dancing. on another day he may have prolonged the game, made you recite every single thing you wanted him to do to you before doing it. but today, he stays like this for a moment, buried inside of you and panting into your neck, savoring the feeling of your tight heat around his aching cock. when he starts moving it’s like fireworks are bursting beneath your eyelids, sparks shooting out every time he hits your spot. 

you try to match his thrusts with your hips, lifting up to meet him halfway, but you end up exhausted after just a few moments. his movements were getting more intense, quicker and harder until he was fucking into you without abandon and you couldn’t keep up even if you wanted to. this is what you were waiting for, the wildness of his body and the sharp possessiveness glinting in his eyes, the teeth he bared before sinking them into your neck and the harsh grip he kept on your waist. 

you both finish fast, but what else could one expect from two beings completely obsessed with each other? time was fickle in the face of the two of you together, every minute felt like an hour. and besides, now that he was home you could do this over and over. 

he fucks you through your orgasm, whispering i love you’s and my darling’s into you as he follows you soon after. he ends up collapsing against you for a moment, and the breath you lose is worth you feeling his chest heaving with exerted breaths and the way he nuzzles into whatever patch of your skin he can find. 

“lix,” you mutter out, totally spent even though this may have been the tamest sex the two of you have had in a long while. 

“hmm?” he scootches over to the side and gathers you in his arms, holding you like you’re something precious. 

“do you still want to teach me about patience?”

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess. 

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god. 

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know. 

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you? 

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could. 

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face. 

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body. 

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something. 

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much. 

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight? 

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem. 

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent. 

— What is it? 

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall. 

— What’s wrong, princess? 

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you. 

— Do you wish to run with my horse? 

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now. 

— I will run. 

— Of course you will. 

— Sir, should we prepare the archers? 

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them. 

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere. 

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours. 

God, hive him strength. 

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction. 

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help. 

— Made others set the camp for tonight. 

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand. 

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand. 

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire. 

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness. 

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this. 

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady. 

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity. 

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married. 

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on. 

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress. 

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now. 

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced. 

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine. 

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness. 

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky. 

— I’m not snarky. 

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public. 

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it. 

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed. 

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent. 

— You’re lucky, little princess. 

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already. 

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive. 

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume.. 

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago. 

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But? 

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel. 

And he loves every second of it. 

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess. 

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself. 

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you. 

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap. 

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now. 

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better. 

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely. 

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again. 

— I will…you won’t catch me. 

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me. 

— I’m not y…your wife. 

— Yet. 

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have 

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early. 

— I’m not…I’m not moving. 

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms. 

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection. 

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey. 

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say. 

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms.