#begging for crumbs of any kind

[heyits-peach]

Surprise ✨

[invi-on-the-battlefield]

Consider this a spiritual successor to my Re-Animator Youtubers post, but boy howdy do I love being part of niche ass fandoms that have a surface level audience of cishet guys in their 30s who’s experience with nuance in media starts and ends with knowing Raleigh wasn’t really the main character of pacrim. I’m fighting for my life in these fucking YouTube comments.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[goldustwomun]

bags (s.h.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you'd loved steve since you were fifteen, followed him wherever he went. so when you were finally over him, stumbling home with another man clinging to your side, why was he waiting by your doorstep?

warnings: (unedited) angst angst angst, best friend robin and nancy but also lovers <3 robin and nancy <3, swearing, drinking, clubbing/partying, self-deprecating thoughts and a stubborn reader, steve is kind of an asshole despair and dread lol, this went a route i hadn't expected but i'm feeling achey and sad tonight so :) enjoy :) and don't hate me!

wc: 2.2k+

note: i hope this isn't entirely ass lol i just want steve harrington to break my heart but like i cant put my ideas into words and its SO FRUSTRATING but whatever :’)

Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time I can't read you, but if you want, the pleasure's all mine Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse Walkin' out the door with your bags

You should’ve known it’d end up this way. His back, coloured shades of blue and purple as dusk kissed at his skin, retreating into the distance and down the very road you’d just stumbled up only moments earlier. Maybe if you had listened a little closer, noticed a little more, the way he grabbed at your waist, squeezed your palms, held you close, you could’ve avoided it all. The shock and heartbreak and unbearable yearning only to turn up empty and desolate all over again.

Because you loved Steve Harrington, in more ways than he would ever know, but it had taken days, months, years, even, to get over that initial infatuation and belly flutter you’d been plagued with as teenagers. He was King Steve and you but a peasant, a shadow, one of many, that flocked to his side when he waved or smiled or tripped you up.

You loved Steve Harrington, but you hated him for waiting so long to work up the courage to just say it. I love you; I’ve always loved you, you wanted to say, but the words refused to pass the seal of your lips and instead you were left gaping at an empty spot on the ground, a Steve-shaped hole in your heart.

It’d been days since you’d seen him last, mourning his absence but refusing to sit around like you might’ve done if you were still seventeen. But no, you weren’t seventeen, you were a twenty-something independent that went out and did things and met people and kissed them if you wanted, maybe even take them home to your one-bedroom that would be otherwise empty without Steve plastered to your sofa, a hand stuffed into the popcorn you kept around because he once said he didn’t entirely hate it.

And that’s what you had done, convinced Nancy and Robin to leave the haze of their never-ending honeymoon phase to take you dancing. The drinks hadn’t stopped coming. Every time you gulped down a shot, another would be shoved into your hand before you’d had time to comprehend the reality of what you were going to do. To sleep with a stranger in the same space you’d watched Rocky with Steve only days earlier. You’d called and asked and begged him to come over, to join you, Nancy and Robin, but he’d bit at you in that way he sometimes did. The harsh edges of his teenage-self making itself known in ways you’d have liked to forget.

“Stop it, babes. I know what you’re doing,” Robin scolded, frowning at the dip between your brows and the lost look in your eyes. You forced a smile then, and she scoffed at the minimal effort you put into hiding your feelings, always having excelled at letting them take over your features even when you didn’t mean them to. Of course, every knew, everyone could see it in the way you trailed after him, like a lost puppy begging for an ounce of attention. Steve was cruel with the crumbs he handed you, but he didn’t know any better.

Everyone knew and everyone could see but Steve had always stood out, the most handsome, the most fit, the most clueless. And maybe that’s why you were perfect for each other because you hadn’t known either, had you.

“Come on, up you get!” Robin urged, pulling you from your chair with Nancy already clinging to her side, shuffling the three of you with what little sobriety she had left in her to the dance floor, pulsing lights and thrumming bodies none-the-wiser to the way you heart was cracking open.

So, you jumped and danced and bounced to the beat in ways you didn’t know you were capable of. Free and without regret and it wasn’t until someone was staring at you from across the room, watching your every moment with a fascination you’d never been subject to, that you stopped, pressing past Nancy and Robin with a tip of your head that assured them you’d be back.

He, whoever he was, surged into action, coming behind you at the bar where you were busy asking for a glass of water. You turned and smiled, stomach dipping, because he was attractive and strong, and he had these kind eyes and soft lips that looked like they’d be otherworldly against your skin. He introduced himself but the music obscured his words, so you nodded and pretended and wondered why you were dreading this conversation when it had only just begun.

He pulled you into a somewhat quieter corner after you’d gestured it was alright, and really, he seemed as surprised as you were when you all but pounced, mouth meeting his, open and desperate. He hadn’t complained, had probably seen it coming in the quiet desperation of your eyes. Of course, he didn’t know it was because of the way you wished it was someone else kissing you into the wall and not some all-consuming lust you were fueled by.

The next thing you knew you were huddled into the backseat of a cab, then stumbling across the gravel to your front door.

And that’s when you saw him. Sat on the bottom step of your apartment’s front door, gaze focused on the way whatever-his-name-was smirked into your neck, having probably thought you had stopped for a smooch and not because the man you had loved, unrequited, for close to a decade was staring at you like you’d stabbed him right in the chest, and twisted.

“Steve?” you whispered, loud enough to prompt Harrington off the step and marching across the short distance to you. “What are you—” but you never had a chance to ask him before he was swinging a left hook right into the guy’s jaw.

“Steve!” and you were shouting now, pushed to side as the stranger retaliated out of instinct, socking him in the nose. Steve looked like he was grinning, blood dripping into his mouth, like he was enjoying the feel of getting the shit beat out of him. “Stop it! Steve! I said—” you yanked him back, shoving him behind you as you rushed forward to-- fuck. You still don’t know his name.

“I’m sorry— Jesus Christ—” you swore when you noticed how his eye was already bruising as he shook you off. “I don’t know why he did that. I—I’m—"

His words were bitter when he responded, shooting daggers at the looming figure you were keenly aware was still behind you before meeting your pleading eyes. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” he assured you, squeezing your hip as he moved past you to leave. “You should talk to your boyfriend, you know, before you bring anyone else over.”

“I’m not—He’s not—” but he was gone, and you were still reeling from what had just happened, what Steve had just done. You turned, anger coursing through you so violently your hands were shaking. “Fucking hell—Steve! What the fuck are you doing here? And what the fuck was that?!”

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asked plainly, bluntly, shirt pulled to his face as he tried to stop the bleeding. There was still that wild look in his eyes, a flush to his skin, like he too was dazed and confused.

“What—I--- how is that any of your fucking business?” you answered back, shoving a finger against his chest. He was immovable though, only grabbed at your hand and held it until your palm was flat against the front of him. You could feel, now, the reckless thrum of his heartbeat, and you asked yourself how you’d gotten here in the first place, pushed up against a bloodied and bruised Steve Harrington.

“Just tell me. If I hadn’t been sat here, would you have fucked him?”

And you didn’t completely understand it, didn’t know what answer he was looking for—the one that was acquiesce him enough to explain himself or at the very least go inside and forget about all this ever happening—so instead you answered honestly. “Yes,” but your voice cracked at the end, so you snatched your hand back, cradling it to yourself like an injured bird you hoped to keep cocooned in your warm. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I would have slept with him. And if it hadn’t been him, I would have found someone else.”

He nodded, looking as if he were pained but you were certain, now, it wasn’t because of the punch he’d taken to the face. “And if I had answered your call, met you there, got drunk and kissed you, would you have fucked me, too?”

You reeled at his words, feeling entirely as though you were the one in the midst of a fight. “Where is this coming from, Steve? Why are you saying these things to me?” you begged, pleaded, tired of whatever back-and-forth the two of you had gotten into the habit of.

“Look—” and he was determined now, steely gaze pinning you to the ground. His bruised knuckles brushed through his hair, scattering the strands across his forehead so that your fingers tingled with the urge to brush them out of his eyes like you’d always done. “—I should’ve said this ages ago. I just—I never could because it was never the right time, and I didn’t really see you in that way, not when I knew you did—” and really you wanted to stop him there, let the Earth swallow you whole and spit your bones out to be buried far from here. “I knew you had this—this thing for me but I ignored it but then we became friends and we—I mean, we watch movies, and we cuddle on the couch and sometimes I think I’d like to do that with you all the time and—

“Steve, please,” you whispered through the tears flooding past your irises, looking anywhere but at him, cheeks flushed with humiliation. He’d always had this tight grip around your heart and maybe he didn’t know that with every word he spoke that grip tightened, and tightened, and you were sure your heart was going to burst if he didn’t shut up right then.

“Just listen—I want to do those things with you always, sweetheart, I really do. I could’ve—I mean, I should’ve communicated my feelings earlier, I know I should have, but I didn’t want to lie to you. Not when you mean so much to me and I couldn’t give you what you wanted.” He looked at you then, expectantly, reaching forward to pull you into his embrace but you stumbled back, wanting out of the hold he had on you in more ways than one.

“Am I meant to thank you for looking at me differently now?” you bit out, exhaustion coating your syllables like rust on a nail.

His face fell as he stuttered over his own words. “I mean—no, sweetheart, no, of course not, I just thought—”

“You thought because I’m pathetic—because I’ve always been fucking pathetic to you—stumbling after you since high school that I’d just be, what, waiting for you? That I’d welcome your change of heart with open arms and gratitude?” you scoffed, gaze narrowed as you watched that wall of his build itself back up. Your ego was bruised and you were too stubborn to admit it, because you thought he had been clueless, and that thought had kept you safe all these years as you curled into his side every weekend.

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that” he cautioned, temper rising. If Steve Harrington was anything it was beautiful, and if he wasn’t beautiful, he was angry, stubborn, a pot ready to boil over.  

“Come on, Steve. You said it yourself: I’ve had a thing for you since freshmen year. I followed you after we graduated, and I’ve followed you again, here, now. It took me years—fucking years—to get over it, to accept that I’d never be more than a friend, if that, and now, after you’ve been dodging me for days, you turn around and confess some sort of miracle feelings for me?” You were panting, out of breath from the way the words spilled out of you, thoughts you shouldn’t have kept to yourself all this time.

“Well what should I have done!” he roared, and a few curious lights blinked on from the building behind him. “Should I have not befriended you when you turned up to the same college? Should I have, instead, fucked you ten years ago when it would have meant nothing to me?” And you flinched at his words.

“You should have let me be, Steve,” you sighed, defeated. Because he was right, but you hated him for prodding at wounds you were still trying to heal.  “You should have kept it to yourself and let me be.” But really what you wanted to say was you’ve been lying to Robin and Nancy because you weren’t over him. You loved him; you’d always love him, but you were afraid, if you told him the truth, that he’d slowly fade from your life until he wasn’t a part of it anymore.

He nodded, face slipping into that mask of his you’d dreaded seeing. “Right. Got it.”

He pushed past you, and you wanted to thank him for the slight brush of his skin against yours, but you kept quiet, like you always had.

as always, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed <3

[frogchiro]

May I have a crumb of young cocky Graves content? Please, I'm on my knees begging for content 🛐😭

Young cocky Graves who is kind of a sleazeball and is shit at hiding it! He'll try and grope you at any chance he gets (especially during training) and he'll have to be chased off by Ghost or Captain Price because they heard their sweet hackergirl's distressed noises and whines and found er being manhandled by this cocky shit who has the biggest grin on his smug face and doesn't even try and hide the erection in his cargo pants ://

Phil will also try and sneak a peak when you're either bathing or changing clothes; quietly cheers to himself and pats himself on the shoulder because this is genius! He's quiet as a mouse and gets to watch you innocently undress yourself, showing off more and more of your soft body! He's almost panting with delight, licking his lips because this will be perfect fap material for later but he's rudely interrupted by a rough grunt and a large, heavy palm on his shoulder belonging to no one else but the rough and tough Captain MacTavish. Perfect.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Hi Roro, hope you’re doing well! Let me start by saying your Sunday stuff is MAGNIFICENT, oh my gosh this MAN-

I’ve come with a request for you…

Dr. Veritas Ratio x fem or gn reader. Bathtub. Sex. Like most of the time he’s only interested in reading in the tub, rejecting reader’s advances. But one day, idk, he’s in a MOOD but he doesn’t want to admit it, so he lets reader go a little further than normal with her advances, but he’s still being petty about it, kinda denying and still trying to read his book or whatever and it just Escalates eventually…

Aaaa thank you so much if you decide to do my request! Remember to take breaks and stay hydrated!

I'm ILL over this man jfc-

Dr. Ratio here to prescribe you with a dose of vitamin D-//SHOT

Veri, my love, please just one chance I'm begging just a crumb oisego-

But yesssss gimme the bathtube sex I want it- I wanna do all kinds of wild things to or with this man. Crazy.

But hehehe I know what you are. 👁️👁️

A s i m p . 🫵 (Like I'm any better.)

And thank you!!! This took a While, but I did it. I had lots of fun with it so feel free to request again~

CW and writing under the cut:

CW: vagina and cock (gasp), PIV sex, cockwarming, rough sex, hair pulling, choking (+some breath play), cumming inside (wrap it before you tap it folks), spanking, degradation+praise, objectification, kinda sorta human furniture thing???, name calling (ex:slut), use of words like "cunt" (wow that feels weird writing here-), marking, ignoring you during cockwarming, doggy position(?), cum play, holding your hands behind your back, discussion of safe wording (check-ins), kinda cum as lube?, funishment, d/s aspects to the relationship (though you are dating for romantic reasons as well), slight pussy slapping, talking to your pussy (I know this man a freak <333), crying during sex (+dacryphilia), dumbification (ofc this was gonna be here), ruined orgasm, edging, slight cum eating, a liiiiittle bit of gagging (w/ fingers), usage of "pet" exactly once

Reader gender: fem (I talked with anon separately and they decided on this when I asked for preference- I also only have one fem reader ask. If people want, I can write another version tweaked to be gn or AMAB/male reader~)

Disclaimers:

>>>Dr. Ratio will be referred to as Veritas here since reader is dating him.

>>>This was written and almost finished before 1.6 release.

Bathtub sex, surprisingly, probably isn't the norm for you two. After all, Veritas (oml it feels weird calling him that after so long of calling him Ratio-) enjoys his down time in the bath where he can relax with you and read his books. I like to think that it's one of the few times when his ever racing mind is a bit quieter. So when you are finally pent up enough at just the right time to want to pounce on him in the tub, he's a bit surpised at first. But the surprise would soon melt into mild annoyance. "Can't you just stay still? Quit it- I'm trying to read."

Of course he says it in that ever dramatic way of his while not even glancing up from his book. Speaking of said book- "You're going to get my book wet, darling-" (Yes, he's a "darling" kind of guy. It's sophisticated as he is. And you know he'd say it with that drawl of his and drag the word out. Sometimes in those more intimate moments, it sounds almost like a sultry purr with the way he says it, commanding all your attention.) "And if you do that, you know I'm going to have to punish you, hm?" You almost want it if it means he'd touch you where you want him, but you know that his punishments aren't necessarily fun. Yet still you like them all the same.

(They're more of funishments than punishments in this case- Please do know that funishments and punishments aren't the same, my dear little kinksters~ Since the reader actually enjoys these "punishments" a lot and they are done for their and Veritas' mutual gratification, it's a funishment. These are normally for bratting behavior while actual punishments are for serious things and are meant to actually discourage the behavior that earned you the punishment. Hopefully I explanied it well, lololol-)

But of course you continue to try and rouse his interest, touching him here and there. It reaches the point where you manage to wiggle your way between his arms, in front of his book. Not only does this block his view, but you're dripping water all over his book! (It was all of one or two droplets.) If you listened close enough, you'd probably have heard the sound of his reason breaking in that moment. Like you had poked a sleeping bear one too many times. (And some little part of himself that knew it was also partly because he also was getting into a mood was squashed. Of course it was just because you needed to be disciplined.)

"That's it. You want my attention, darling? Well now you have it.” There was something dark in his voice that sent a shiver down your back and made your nethers tingle in anticipation. He snapped the book closed and set it on the table by the bathtub almost gently, a stark contrast between how his voice sounded and how he was looking at you. He'd tilt his head and consider you, seemingly thinking about how best to punish you for your transgressions. "Hands on my shoulders and do not move them. Color?" Veritas was launching right into it, huh? "Green." "Good."

With hands on his strong shoulders, you watched him with eyes darting around his form to try and figure out what he'd do. Your question was answered by a hand gripping your hip and another dragging down between your breasts, then over your belly, then stopping on your mound. He didn't move any lower, fingers thrumming there just above where you wanted him. Teasing. "I can see your cunt drooling from here. Was she just so hungry that you couldn't be good and hold it until we were out of the tub?" Heat bloomed in your cheeks as he spoke. "Should I punish her? Hm?" Veritas gave your wetness a few light slaps, just enough to make you jolt but not enough to do more than just barely sting. "No- It isn't her fault she's so empty and wanting. But it is your fault that you couldn't be obedient and wait. Isn't that right, my cute little slut?" He whispered in your ear, leaned forward to curl possessively over you while his fingers slipped down to trace around your twitching hole as it tried to suck his finger in.

"Mmmmm..." he hummed lowly, the sound vibrating against you where your chests were pressed together. He kissed the spot beneath your ear before his lips marked a path down your neck, sucking and nipping marks into the tender flesh there. Just as he reached the junction between your neck and shoulder, he suddenly sunk his teeth in and thrusted two fingers into you at the same time. Veritas had sneakily wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you still right before so you weren't able to squirm away from his teeth or his fingers that now plunged in and out of you, agonizingly slow after that fast, rough entry.

The man pressed a kiss to your new bitemark before sliding the hand of the arm around your waist up your back to latch onto your nape and hold you still for a kiss. He chuckled into it as you attempted to fight him for dominance, your tongues clashing. Ultimately, he won and was now devouring your mouth, licking into it with fervor.

At some point, his fingers began to speed up. Veritas was fingerfucking you with his palm slapping against your throbbing clit. And right as you felt yourself begin that climb- He slowed down, his thrusts going back to a leisurely rhythm. He swallowed the whine that left your throat, smirking into the kiss you were still locked in. As he pulled away, he looked incredibly smug. "Thought it would be that easy? Of course not. This is a punishment.”

He did this another time, bringing you close to the rise of pleasure (not at all that close to your peak, though) before going frustratingly slowing. The third time, however... It didn't seem that he was going to stop, and you felt it build and build inside you like a white hot flame. And right as you were reaching the end... He spanked you and ripped his fingers out, sending you over the edge but ruining your orgasm. It had tears beading in your eyes. Fuck did that make him want to fuck you absolutely stupid, but he had more control than that. Your punishment was far from over.

He soothingly ran his hand over your back as you leaned into him, body shivering. "Color?" Through your panting breaths, you managed a weak, "Green." "Good girl." He didn't let you rest any longer, manhandling you into a new position. Now you were leaned over the edge of the tub with your hands keeping you from falling out, Veritas behind you. "I'm going to fuck you now, and you're going to take it all like a good girl, right?" At first you thought he was talking to you, but then he caressed your slit and cooed at it. That mixed sense of shame and arousal shot through you and had you clenching around nothing, making Veritas laugh condescendingly. "So honest..."

Again he started out slow, the sensual slide of his cock inside of your pussy making you close your eyes to focus on the pleasure he was giving you. But he was faster to ramp things up now that he'd already edged you and ruined one of your orgasms. It may or may not have also been because he was quite ready to slake his own lust with your body.

The only reason you didn't slam your face into the tub's edge or fall out was Veritas' grip on you when he grabbed both of your wrists and pulled your arms behind your back. You felt a hand slide into your hair and then he was thrusting into you hard, the slap of his hips slamming into your ass loud in the confined space of the bathroom. It was obscene the way you could even hear the wet sound of his cock going in and out of you amplified by the natural acoustics of said bathroom. "You like hearing how well you take me, slut? I certainly do. It's filthy. Fitting-"

Your hips are bruising from them being pressed onto the edge of the tub, bumping into it with almost every thrust. It hurt but fuck did it all feel so good because he was pressing against your sweet spot every time he fucked into your wet hole.

The hand pulling your head back by your hair let go only to wrap around your throat and pull you up so your back pressed against his chest. "Fuck you sound like such a whore right now. Are you my good little whore? Just for me?" Of course you couldn't answer because your mind was blank from his hand pressing just right to cut off some of that blood flow. Oh and because he had also just tilted his hand to cut off your air. He held for a bit, waiting until your vision was a bit fuzzy at the edges before letting you breathe, the feeling of the air rushing back into your lungs making you dizzy. You felt so close you could scream- And then you nearly did when he pulled out and stopped your orgasm.

His hands let go of you and you nearly keeled over, but he caught you. With an arm around your waist, you couldn't tell what he was doing behind you until you heard the slick sound of him fisting his cock. Right as he began cumming, he slammed back into you to fill you with it while biting down hard on the back of your neck. Another bite to mark you as his.

Veritas then pulled out so the last few spurts of cum would paint your labia in white, marking you inside and out with his spend.

You could feel the frustrated tears pouring down your face as you felt your burning arousal festering in your belly and the mix of embarrassment and thrill at his actions. Fuck this man would be the end of you. He unlatched from your neck to lean forward and lick the tears off your face with a hum. "You look so pretty like this..." He patted your ass before that same hand was sliding down to open you up using your pussy lips as he leaned back to watch as the cum he poured into you began to slip out.

Scooping up the cum that had dribbled out, he fingered it back in, purposefully tapping at your gspot a few times. He then pulled the white covered fingers out and petted your clit, playing with it a little before bringing it to your face. "Clean them off." Your tongue kitten licked some of it off before he was shoving them in your mouth. You gagged a little, drooling over his fingers while weakly sliding your tongue over them to clean them of the cum clinging to them.

"Good girl," he praised with a kiss to your jaw before he let out a sigh. "I'm going to sit you on my cock and finish my reading. Color?" "Green, fuck-" "That's a good pet."

Warming his cock while leaned forward to rest your arms on the lip of the tub while your head rested on those was hard. You desperately wanted to cum, but you now were willing to be obedient to get what you wanted. You weren't sure how much more punishment you could take. It didn't help that he had an arm resting on the back of your hips, slung over them as he leaned on you a bit while his other arm rested atop the other one. That hand was holding up his book. He wasn't touching you besides that and your ass resting in the cradle of his hips, cock deep inside your pussy which still fluttered around his thickness occasionally. Every time you squirmed he would spank you with a pointed look before going back to his book, ignoring you entirely. Any whining or talking would be met with the same treatment.

He checked in on you after a bit. "Color?" "...yellow." His demeanor changed immedately. Petting your side, he eased you back to lean against him once more. "What's wrong, baby?" He typically saved that endearment for intimate moments alone together and times like this where you might need reassurance. "I wanna see your face... wanna hold you." It seemed you might be a bit sensitive, now, after being punished for a while and needed that from him. "Of course, baby. Your punishment is almost over. I'll let you come soon and we can continue in the bedroom, hm?" You loved this man. "Okay." He kissed your forehead. "Good girl."

He slipped out, making you whine. It was met with a chuckle and he helped you turn around to slide into his lap again, this time facing him.

Veritas pulled you to rest against him, tucking you into his neck as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Once you both were settled in, he went back to reading. He still ignored you, but it wasn't so bad this time.

You knew he was done when he set his book on the table again.

He settled his grip on your hips before going straight into fucking up into you hard and fast, what cum was still left in you from his cock plugging it in you aiding the slide of dick in and out of you. He fucked you and played with you until you felt like you couldn't think straight. Even when he asked you questions, knowing you couldn't answer, you weren't quite sure what you said. Whether it was even coherent or not.

"Such a cute, dumb girl for me."

As you came around his cock again, you moaned as you felt the warmth of his cum in you. "Did so, so good for me. Such a good girl." Veritas gave you some time to come down from your high before asking. "You wanna continue in the bedroom or are you finished for the night?" "...m' done." "Alright, baby." He gave you some more time before cleaning you up and draining the tub. Another kiss was pressed to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. "Let's go to bed, darling. I'll take care of you."

Lololol hopefully you like it. 🙏

If there’s any typos or if it doesn’t make sense somewhere… Your honor my client claims “oopsie daisy”. It’s me. The client is me, your honor-

[alwritey-aphrodite]

I am begging for any kind of crumbs related to the arranged marriage to Sejanus head cannons please 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Our boy is so smitten <3

Here’s the first part

The more time Sejanus spends with you, the more he can picture your life together. He’s definitely getting ahead of himself, and he doesn’t even know if you have any feelings for him that extend beyond platonic, but he can’t help but fall a little bit in love with you every time he sees you.

The academy students are well known for their teasing and gossip, even if you’d think the best and brightest of Panem would have better things to do than talk about each other all day long. Lately, you and Sejanus have seemed to be the topic of choice, word spreading fast from the rumor mill that is the mothers of the Capital.

Having spent all your life with these kids, you let their comments roll off your back, Sejanus is sensitive, every little quip like a knife to his heart.

“The day Arachne and Festus make me upset is the day that I disappear forever,” you’d told him once, practically dragging him alone as you stomped away from your peers, getting tired of the downcast look in Sejanus’s eyes. All he could focus on in that moment was the way your hand felt in his, and how badly he’d like for you to hold his hand more often.

While most of the time you spend together is at the academy or formal events put together by your parents, you always find an excuse to steal him away, to spend some time with just him in a manner that your parents would find unseemly.

“I know where my father keeps his liquor,” you’d whispered into his ear, and all Sejanus could focus on was the feeling of you impossibly close to him, the sensation of your voice in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. You grab his hand again, gently pulling him from the crowded room and towards your father’s study, where you definitely aren’t allowed.

“We’ll just grab it and go, I promise,” you tell him, sensing his nerves as you ease open the heavy wooden door and disappear inside. It only takes you a second before you reappear, with a bottle in your hand and the most beautiful smile Sejanus has ever seen.

You don’t grab his hand again, even though he wishes you would, but you lead him from the house all the same, passing by your typical spots to make sure no one stumbling from the house will catch the two of you. Passing through a grove of trees, you arrive in a clearing where it would be practically impossible for anyone to find you. Sejanus’s stomach is in knots, a mix of fear of being caught and anxiety at being alone with you.

It’s not that you’re rude or mean or anything like that, you’re almost too lovely for Sejanus to handle. Even before your parents decided to marry you off, you’d always been sweet to Sejanus, sticking up for him against the rest of your peers and going out of your way to make sure he’s feeling alright. It doesn’t help that you’re exceptionally smart and stunningly beautiful, leaving Sejanus reeling every time you look at him.

Now, when you smile at him, a triumphant grin with the liquor bottle in your hand and the moonlight shining across your face, Sejanus could swear he’s never seen anything half as pretty as you. He’d tell you if he wasn’t so nervous, if his voice didn’t get caught in his throat every time he tried to say anything.

Popping off the cap, you take a swig from the bottle before passing it to Sejanus, barely giving him time to process the fact that you’re essentially kissing before holding your hand out for the bottle again. He drinks as quickly as he can, pulling a face as the liquor burns his throat. You laugh, and as much as he wants to join you, his body racks with a cough, only making you laugh harder, liquid sloshing out from the open bottle in your hand.

“Are you trying to poison me?” He asks once he’s recovered, smiling at the way your eyes crease as you take another pull from the bottle.

“We’d both die together, it’d be very romantic,” you take another swig before offering the bottle again, grinning when he waves it away.

Wiping the dirt off the cap, you close up the bottle and set it aside, leaning back on your hands in a way that makes your shoulder brush against Sejanus, sending sparks all across his arm. You tilt your head up to the sky, and feeling certain that he won’t get caught, Sejanus turns his own gaze over to you, admiring the slope of your nose and the curve of your jaw.

He can’t help but want to kiss you, but fearing the moment would be ruined, he settles for just looking at you in this peaceful state, committing your relaxed face to memory. He’s too busy staring to notice the way your eyes shift from the sky over to him, and when you start to smile, he just chalks it up to the liquor.

[gh0stswh0re]

today's thots 😏: you have been begging ghost to tell you his name for days now. he does it while eating you out.

a/n: literally wrote this in 20 mins, fully aware it kinda sucks

he has you sprawled across his bed, your legs freely hanging over the edge. he is kneeling beside you, his hands holding your hips in place, the rough surface of his gloves ever so slightly scratching your soft, delicate skin, his half-masked face buried between your thighs, which are littered with hickeys and bite marks. he's hungrily lapping at your arousal, shamelessly delving his tongue inside you.

a quiet whimper of annoyance, of protest, leaves your lips when he releases the hold of his right hand on your hip, and removes his mouth from your needy, dripping cunt. he brings his fingers to his wet lips, catching the fabric of his glove between his teeth, quickly pulling it off and throwing it away, leaving it forgotten laying somewhere on the ground. his focus shifts back to you immediately - he inserts two of his thick, long fingers inside you. he begins flicking his tongue at your clit, while his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you so deliciously, so perfectly.

occasionally, he completely changes his movement – he lazily curls his fingers inside you, (a pathetic, half-assed attempt to stretch you even more), and simultaneously removes his tongue to gently suck on the swollen, sensitive nub.

you are far beyond the point of hiding your moans in embarrassment. your mind simply too foggy to process anything but the lewd, wet noises filling the room, the sinister, overbearing, pleasure.

he feels you clenching around his fingers, he hears every breath that catches in your throat and he pays full fucking attention to each and every one of your pretty moans that grow carelessly loud, animalistic, and primal. he notices your muscles tensing up, as your body shakes and your hips involuntarily jerk forward – he groans at the sudden contact.

you, though, are simply too far gone to realize any of this, too needy and eager for your sweet release, far too wrecked and broken to form any thought at all.

he removes his dominant hand from your warm cunt, which is pleading even for the smallest touch, the slightest friction feels heavenly. he quickly and messily wipes the wetness off on the side of his clothed thigh. never removing his hot, sloppy mouth in the process - he continues to swallow the sweetness of your arousal, every fucking bit of it, as if his life depends on it, as if all the oxygen was sucked out of his body, your being replacing the air that he inhales, the air that he would die without.

And then he … taps your thigh twice, as if to draw any crumb of attention left in that scrambled pretty mind of yours towards him. your chest feels heavy, and that impossibly sharp warmth in your abdomen threatens to spill all over your body, … yet you manage to shoot open your half-lidded eyes.

he's dragging his index finger across your thigh, barely touching the surface of your skin. it's a shape? a letter? the repeated movement confirms it, S – I. what kind of sadistic mind game is the cocky bastard playing now? and most importantly why is he doing it now when you are so -

he continues his merciless assault, - M

your back arches, legs trembling, - O

the control over your own body begins to slip away from you, both intoxicating and terrifying to experience. you physically feel the fiery pleasure inside you threatening to spill all over the edge - N

''Simon?-'' it's a god-given miracle that you gained enough composure to repeat the word, the name, out loud.

the last thing you feel, right before the pure euphoria spreads through your body and mind, is him smiling against you.

[foreveralbon]

lay all your love on me - cl16

in which you’ve never been one to tie yourself down, but charles might be the only man who can change that wc: 2.3k brief content warnings: jealous reader, oblivious charles, reader is a someone who sleeps around but you try to become a better person for charles’ sake, charles also sleeps around but they aren’t in an active relationship

this request was sent in, i think around late february, and i am so so sorry to the anon who sent in it because it's been so long that i’ve lost the actual request. but basically it was just the prompt "lay all your love on me" by abba + charles leclerc, so here you go, nonnie!! it probably didn’t go the way you were anticipating but it didn’t go the way i was planning on it either tbh

It’s difficult, you won’t lie, to live the kind of life you lead. There’s only so many strangers you can kiss and so very little hearts you can break. Committing to a relationship - to just one person - has never been for you, and you’re not sure it ever will be. You’ve always liked your freedom far too much to throw it all away for just one man, and the nights you spend with pretty nameless men prove that.

For most people, too many men make it complicated - they get attached too easily. One kiss and they’re practically addicted to you. Returning to your doorstep the next night, drooling, begging you for another taste. Just one more taste and they swear they’ll be gone. Each of them are worst liars than the last.

To you though, the chase is exhilarating. The more you give, the more desperate they become. Flowers, chocolates, love-sick messages, grand gestures, all in an attempt to woo you over. As sweet as it may be - well, sweet for you at least, because nothing is better than free expensive chocolate - you revel in their eventual defeat. After all, you almost always got what you wanted - a relationship with no strings attached, more attention than you could’ve ever asked for and you didn’t lose anything worthwhile in the process.

What you’d never expected though, was for the roles to switch.

But God, just one night with Charles and you were fucking hooked. Reduced to nothing but a mere beggar, seeking for his attention, ready to eat crumbs from his bare hands if that was all he was willing to give you.

Eventually, one night turned into two turned into a week turned into days on end spent holed up in Charles’ room.

Three months later and it still isn’t enough. You crave more than just sex. You want him, in all the ways imaginable.

Charles with his scruffy morning hair and sleep-ridden rasp. Charles, who slips a shirt of his on your naked body in the mornings he has to leave so that you don’t wake up cold. Charles, who’s set out a cup of coffee for you every day you’ve woken up beside him so far. Charles, who’s sat by your side for hours on end, listening to you blabber away with nothing but open ears and a sparkle in his eye. Charles, who’s fallen asleep in your arms far too many times to count now. The first time it happened you decided that you’d never fall asleep any other way again.

Charles, who’s become a far greater friend than fuck buddy, someone you trust and care about. Hell, he’s become someone you can imagine yourself loving.

Truthfully, realistically, it might not happen.

Because Charles sticks the unspoken agenda people like you have always lived by. Fuck around for a few weeks, don’t get attached.

Now you’ve gone ahead and placed half your heart in the hands of a man who’d probably rather sooner be holding another woman’s waist.

Your worry, however unwarranted it may seem, is confirmed one sunny morning, when a rustle from the corner of Charles’ room wakes you up.

“Good morning, cherie.” He says, shrugging the waistband of his pants up his hips. His white bedsheets fall from over your shoulders, bunching at your waist as you sit up, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. The side of his bed that you’ve claimed for yourself has started to smell strongly of your perfume and, mixed in with Charles’ cologne, it’s a smell that you’ve quickly grown accustomed to.

A quick glance at the clock beside you reads 7am, far earlier than either of you have been up in a while. You don’t miss the fact that there’s no steaming cup of coffee by your side. “Morning, Cha. Where are you going?”

There’s a brief pause from him before he clears his throat and mutters, “I was planning on meeting Alexandra.”

Oh. “Alexandra, the girl you were seeing earlier?” Before me?

His voice is muffled as he tugs his shirt over his head and down his toned stomach but you can clearly make out his confirmation. He moves to his dresser, rummaging through the drawers to find a belt.

An inexplicable noise emerges from your throat, confusion creeping over your features. There’s a wave of nausea that passes over you at the thought of Charles with another woman. You’d rather swallow a box of nails if it meant you didn’t have to think about Charles with someone else other than you.

“Really?”

Charles stops his searching for a moment, back straightening to turn to you. “Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“I mean, you’ve been spending a lot of time with me, I didn’t realise that you might want to see other people. I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“Do you not want me to see her?” His face is scrunched adorably, skepticism lining his voice as he tries to make sense of your point. He rounds the bed to stand by you, palm resting on your head as he entangles his fingers through your hair. On any other the day, the gesture would be sweet, intimate. But now, you lean away from his touch. He doesn’t seem to take notice of it though.

“Not really, no.” The truth is blunt from your lips and Charles rears away, taken aback. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting and it’s not something he has a planned answer to either.

He coos softly. “It’s alright. I’m just meeting with her. Chatting. I’ll be back in the afternoon, and if you’re still here, we’ll have some lunch and I’ll be yours for the night.”

You nod reluctantly but uncertainty is still etched deep into your features. His promise cuts far too deep - a compromise really.

“I’m not looking to bring her home,” Charles reassures you, and you just swallow down all the words you want to say. “I like this version of us. It’ll be good for however long it lasts.”

This version of us as if it’s not the farthest thing from what you want you and Charles to be. Good as if it won’t leave you heartbroken by the end. But who’s to blame if not yourself?

It’s when he hooks his finger under your chin to press his lips against yours in a sweet goodbye kiss, that it takes everything in you to not pull him back down into bed with you, trap him there for as long as humanely possible. The only way you’re sure you could ever truly have him.

—

Charles, you quickly come to realise, is someone who keeps his word.

He’s home past midday, just as he said he’d be. He walks through his apartment door, jacket hanging loosely off his arm, and he calls out your name. Charles makes a beeline for the kitchen, and water splashes into the sink as he fills a glass for himself.

“Here!” You say back from your position on the couch, tilting your head back to take a good look at him. A flashed smile from him in your direction is more than enough to stop you in your tracks, make you weak at the knees.

The first thing you notice about him is the faint smudge of red that looks like it’s been rubbed off his cheek.

His already mussed up hair sticks up in all the wrong places, indicative of someone running their hands through it. His shirt is bunched up at the front, like someone spent a good while grabbing onto it.

You can feel the blood drain from your face, leaving you lightheaded at the image of Alexandra touching him in the same way you’ve been doing for so long now.

“Hi, chérie.”

“Good time?”

“Yes. We just talked. Caught up. I might see her again soon, I’m not sure yet.”

The words strike deep, like they’re arrows aimed straight at your heart. Charles clocks the change in your demeanour almost immediately, the way your face falls and your body tightens in on itself.

“Chérie,” he says softly. He drops down onto the couch beside you, wrapping his arms tight around your torso. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck and presses a kiss to your temple. The act is far too sweet, far too familiar for people with a relationship of your nature. “Is everything okay? You’ve been so down since we spoke this morning.”

“What changed, Charles? We were so fun together.”

“But that’s all this has ever been, no? Just for fun. Those other girls are just there, you’re the one that’s been here the longest and for good reason too. Because I like you more than them.”

He speaks with a tone of finality, one that gives you room to talk but without discussion.

“I don’t want to think about those girls with you. Anything you want, I’m here. If you need to talk, if you want someone to complain, I’m here.”

If you want someone to love, I’m here.

The words linger unspoken on your tongue, but when he smiles appreciatively, purposefully ignoring everything you’ve said, and when the trajectory of his hand slowly changes from your head to your waist and his lips trail kisses down along the side of your face and neck, you decide that you’ll just take what he’s willing to give you.

—

You’re not sure how you made it to the same club as him, but the second you step in, there’s a chill that runs down your spine despite the multitude of sweaty bodies surrounding you. You’d both agreed to stepping back for a few days - rather, Charles’d insisted on it after your attitude had apparently worsened.

Flashing lights and thumping music makes it hard for you to make out it his figure but the second his head tilts to look at the girl he’s talking to properly, you know it’s him.

He stands so close to her that you’re sure she can smell his natural scent beneath his cologne. Can she smell the remnants of you on him?

It’s as though your gaze has burned holes in the side of his head because one second his eyes are trained on the girl in front and the next, his focus shifts to you, wincing at your pained expression. He raises his arm and at first you think he’s about to excuse himself. But then he’s pulling her closer into his body, guiding her deeper into the crowd.

It’s stupid the way you immediately trail after him, manoeuvring your way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of him.

But suddenly he breaks away from her and you’re standing lost in a crowd of strangers. It lasts for a barely moment because you can feel him sidle up to you seconds later, his chest brushing up against your back as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“What are you doing here?”

You whirl around to talk to him, your faces so close that all it would take is for someone to bump into you for your lips to touch. “Tough finding someone out here, huh?”

He just sighs and turns his head the other way. “This again?”

You don’t miss the way that he doesn’t call you by your name, or chérie or the fact that he doesn’t even address you at all.

“Do you want something from me? I thought we agreed to do our own stuff tonight.” At that, his eyes dart over the girl he was talking to, who acknowledges you both with a flirtatious flick of her fingers.

“Come on, Charles. I can be the one for you,” you finally blurt out. The admission feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders but a groan from Charles is like the whole ocean has come crashing down on you.

He shakes his head. “What am I meant to do? Let myself fall in love with you, just so that you can leave me for the next bed like you do to everyone? No, thank you. If that’s an option for you, it’s one for me too.”

“You don’t need to waste your time with other girls, I’m right here.” The words leave your mouth faster than your brain can register what you’re even saying. Charles watches you with a pained look on his face, half-tempted to tell you to stop. “I’m a better person now. I haven’t touched another man, I haven’t thought of another man since I’ve been with you. I know everything about you. The way you like your coffee, the show you like to watch before bed even though you tell all your friends that you think it’s weird and you’d never watch it. I know that you give me your favourite shirts to wear - you always used to wear them around before we started this… this thing and now, I haven’t seen you wear them once.”

Charles murmurs your name softly, barely audible on his lips and you feel just about ready to cry of frustration if he’s not hearing you.

“These girls don’t care about you. They don’t want you. I know you better than these girls do and I’m sure as fuck that I could love you a whole lot better than they ever could, Charles.”

There’s a slow hurt that seeps through you, acid bubbling deep in your tummy. It traps your body in its fiery burn and for a moment you’d gladly let it take over you if it means you can finally lie in this grave you’ve dug for yourself.

“Love me.”

—

author’s note: this strayed so far away from the request i’m so sorry dude

@namgification @lipringlrh @queen-aria-things @disneyprincemuke @demvnsriot let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my sweet angel babies! Thank you all for the love and kind words! Here is another chapter, now there are going to be two perspectives in this, so when you get to the end, you will see what I am talking about hehe. Enjoy ! &lt;3

Chapter 87: The Other Woman

Days float by as your anger continued to simmer.

Your visits to the Gardens became frequent, irritated energy bouncing through your body, leaving your nights to be restless. And yet to your surprise, Aegon was nowhere to be seen.

You had thought that with his sudden dismissal of his brother to Harrenhal at the news of your pregnancy, that he would make himself present. 

And yet, he hadn't. 

And when Aemond had returned a few short days later to the Red Keep, you had been just as surprised once more. 

Was this a test? 

The two brothers working in tandem to see what you would do?

Or was Aemond's visit truly shortened by his desire to come back to you?

When Aemond arrived back to Kings Landing, his demeanour had shifted once again. He walked around you carefully, chose his words with even more care, and had even refrained from touching you. It was as though he was waiting for you to make the first move. Or maybe he was waiting to you to strike him.

Or perhaps the Prince was waiting for you to respond to the letter you had not read.

When the Prince had returned, you had been seated at the Gardens, nibbling upon a honey drizzled slice of pear, the sweet nectar coating your mouth thickly as you gazed out at the water, concentrating hard to see if you could see any speck of Dragonstone or Driftmark. 

A large shadow moved across the water, and you had craned your head to look up, spotting your husbands large, green, war dragon flying atop the Keep. Her mossy wings, torn in some places, and a deep scar along her side shining in the sun, curtesy of Syndor.

Your resentment bubbled at the sight of his return, and you suddenly felt no desire to continue munching upon the many sweets and treats that your maids had insisted upon giving you. You stood, dusting the crumbs that had settled into your lap onto the stone floor and moved with little haste, knowing that Aemond would most likely seek you out as soon as he landed.

You let yourself begin to walk down towards the beach of Kings Landing, brushing your fingertips atop the many different flowers that you passed. It was not until you came across the fragrant rose bushes that you paused in thought. 

Reaching forward, you grasped a large, blooming, blood-red rose, and snapped it from the bush, bringing it up to your nose to inhale deeply. It was a beautiful colour, and from the exact same bush that Aegon had plucked one for you from. 

You smirked.

You continued on your walk, winding down the path until you reached the stone jetty, finding yourself standing deathly still, rose in hand, as you looked out at the water.

You were waiting for the inevitable.

Waiting for him.

For your shadow.

To come seek you out. To speak to you. To see you.

To beg. To plead. To apologise.

Or perhaps, punish you for your temper.

It was not until you heard soft, steady steps behind you, that you knew he had come, just as you had anticipated. 

Aemond had come to straight to you. 

Not to his King. Not the the Lords. Nor the Small Council. Not even to your shared chambers to disrobe. 

The One-Eyed Prince came straight to you from the back of his dragon.

Bringing the rose to your nose, you inhaled again deeply, and hummed. With a cool breath, your voice flitted towards him, not bothering to turn around.

“Didn’t expect to have you back so soon, Aegon. What did Otto want with you?” And with your last word, you spun, rose still raised up to your face to look at your husband that you knew was behind you.

At the sight of him, you dropped the rose limply to your side, “Oh. Aemond.” You sniffed, “You’re back.” 

His brows were already furrowed, “What did Aegon want with you?”

Those were the first words from his lips.

His first words after coming back from his whore.

You saw red. 

Gritting your teeth you spun away, moving to walk back up the path to the Keep and away from the steady rolling waves of the beach. 

“How was the Whore of Harrenhal?” You snipped, taking the steps in lazy strides, unhurried to get away from him as you twirled the rose in view as you passed.

Aemond’s eye flicked to the flower, then back at your face, his jaw tensed.

You continued up on your path, letting your uncle stew in the possibility of you and his brother having spent time together in his absence. The possibility of Aegon courting you with another rose.

And whilst you had expected it, the Prince did not follow you.

Instead, he stayed rooted in his spot at the bottom of the stairs, watching as you slowly walked up them, singular red rose in hand that you brought intermittently up to your nose to smell.

Aemond found you a while later in the Library, clearly desperate to speak to you, his own insecurities about his brother racing in his mind.

He found you seated on one of the armchairs before the fire, tome in lap with the rose tucked behind your ear. The red atop your hair stood out starkly, and brought out the subtle blush of your lips that you nibbled on gently. 

To Aemond, you looked as though you were engrossed in the story, or perhaps your mind was wondering to a certain older uncle as your fingers danced over the long, thorned stem. His approach did not rouse your gaze, for you knew it was him, choosing to ignore his presence all together.

The One-Eyed Prince stood in front of you, his height doubled yours, as you sat primly in the chair. The air in the Library was tense, and you played upon it, a finger tracing the petals of the flower absentmindedly as you continued to ignore him. 

“Y/n.” Aemond spoke lowly, trying to gage your attention, “I didn’t see her. I attended to my duties, and that was all.”

You hummed boredly, before lifting your gaze to him, the Prince’s jaw locked, hand on the pummel of his sword as he looked at you. You let your gaze drop pointedly at the hand, and to your surprise, he released it, dropping his arm down by his side.

“Aemond.” You sighed, standing, shutting the book in your hands as you stepped forward towards him. You thrust the book against his chest, “I don’t believe you.” 

His hand came to grasp the book, ‘The Loves of Queen Nymeria’, as you brushed past him, making your exit from the library as swiftly as possible. Not hearing his footsteps behind you. 

You found your way to the Godswood, where you always found yourself in troubling times, still holding the rose in your hand as you looked up through its branches. 

You hoped that your parents received the raven.

And even prayed to the Gods that they did. 

What would happened?

Would it be done?

Would she be killed?

How would you know if it had happened?

What if they didn’t get your raven?

You swallowed and sat amongst the roots as you always did, needing to clear your mind, your back against the trunk of the tree as you looked up at the light that shone through the leaves. The tree vibrated with the wind, and in that moment, and as through the wind swept away your doubts, you knew they had gotten your raven.

When the sun had begun to lower in the sky, you took yourself back to your chambers, knowing that your husband would be there waiting, and you would have little place to run.

He would talk to you, and you would listen. 

For a time. 

Aemond was just as you had expected him to be, a creature of habit, sitting in his armchair before the fire, goblet of wine in hand. When you entered the chambers, his head had lazily turned to look at you, eye grazing up and down your body before pausing on the rose you held in your hands. You moved across the chambers and placed it on the small table beside your bed, sighing. 

With contagious irritation, you moved to the side of the room and poured yourself a goblet of wine, sitting opposite Aemond on the chaise as you rose the cup to your lips, sipping the strong spiced red, anger simmering beneath your skin. 

Though, it seemed as though Aemond had bitten off his tongue, and the two of you sat in silence before the warmth of the fire, words unspoken, until the maids entered to light the candles of the chambers, and shortly after, bring your dinner.

You both moved to eat together, a tension filled silence engulfing the room. The quiet chewing and sipping was drowned out by the ever rising beat of your heart in your ears as you looked at him.

You were furious, and angry at the little part of yourself that was relieved to have him back.

Aemond placed his cutlery down onto his plate politely, sensing your heated gaze upon his face. How you wished you punch him in the side of his mouth. To dig your fingers into the cavity where his eye once sat. If only you ha-

“I did not see her.” His voice cut through the tension, and you swallowed thickly, placing your own cutlery atop your plate as you reached forward to grasp your wine. You took a gulping sip as you watched him from over the rim, waiting for him to undoubtedly continue. 

“Kīvin zijo va se Jaes Uēpys se se Sīkuda.” I swear it on the Old Gods and the Seven.

You huffed, taking the goblet from your lips, "Nyke jorepagon pōnta pryjagon ao ilagon syt aōha pirtra.” I pray they strike you down for your lies.

Aemond sneered, "Gaoman daor pirtir. Daor naejot ao. Dōrī naejot ao.” I do not lie. Not to you. Never to you.

You hummed, sipping again, “Pār īlon kessa ūndegon lo iksā pryjatan ilagon iā daor.” Then we shall see if you are struck down or not.

Aemond’s hand on the table twitched, “Kesan daor ūndegon zirȳla arlī, nyke teptan ao ñuha udir.” I will not see her again, I gave you my word.

You pressed the smile away from your lips with a frown. You nodded in agreement, picking up your cutlery again and moved to cut through a steaming piece of meat, dark gravy poured over the top, “Se kostan kivio ao, bona kesā daor.” And I can promise you, you won’t.

You will never see that whore or your bastard child again. 

And it will be because of me.

Aemond nodded, but not because he knew, which made you all the more smug, “Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys, iksā emare ñuha riña. Ñuha jorrāelagon iksis syt ao, se ao mērī.” You are my wife, you are having my child. My love is for you, and you only.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Should have thought about that before you fucked a child into her, shouldn’t you?”

The Prince stayed silent and went back to his eating, cheek twitching with words to say, but none passed his lips.

"Has the bastard been born yet?" You hummed, stabbing another piece of meat and bringing it to your lips as you chewed, Aemond's gaze darkening.

"No."

"Then how would you know that if you had not seen her?" You blinked at the Prince, biting the inside of your cheeks.

"It would be hard to not notice a chil-"

"A bastard of silver hair in a place where Strong blood once resided. I often think on it," You cut another piece of meat with your knife and fork as you felt Aemond's eye burning a hole in your face, "Would the child look like you, or would it come out resembling a Strong boy."

Aemond did not speak, and so you continued, "For years, my brothers and I, despite my obvious parentage, faced the sharp whispers and gossip fuelled by your mother. Exacerbated by you. And now, you are to have another bastard of your own. And not one that you can easily pass off as Aegon's, if she is truly a Strong."

Resting your chin on your palm, you tilted your head looking at him, "Do you even know if Helaena's children are yours? Or at least one of them? I suspected the twins, but Maelor has Aegon's soft face." You paused, watching anger fall over his face, "I wonder if mine will have it."

Aemond's hands slammed on the table as he looked down at his plate, anger radiating off of him.

"Would it not be a cruel joke from the Gods for you to have sired the King's heirs, and he to have sired yours?"

"That child is mine." He growled.

"I suppose time will tell. The bastard certainly is."

"You mean to provoke me. I have performed my duty as well as I can."

"And yet, your whore is pregnant. Who's duty was that? Certainly not that of a Prince."

Silence moved across the table as he stared at you down his nose.

In disgust.

In anger.

In rage.

"I left you a letter." His voice was impatient, as though the piece of parchment would have explained all.

"What letter?" You cocked your head, feigning ignorance.

His brow was drawn, "I left it on the table."

You raised your eyebrows in mock remembrance, opening your mouth, "Oh." Aemond's face seemed, as though the letter would soothe your only rising resentment.

"I burnt it." You smiled at him widely, and resumed your eating.

Aemond's lips twitched as he looked at you, tongue pressing on the bottom of his lip in agitation.

"Sorry, was it something important?"

Aemond did not respond, hands tightening around his knife and fork, his eye narrowed.

You hummed, chewing a piece of potato slowly before you swallowed, "Anything of importance can surely be spoken to me, and not written down on some parchment like a child writes an apology to his mother."

Aemond tossed his knife and fork onto the table angrily, standing from his chair, hands in fists as he looked at you. You looked up at your uncle, and daintily placed your cutlery atop your plate.

"What are you going to do, Aemond? Hit me? When I am with child?" He blinked down at you, eye flickering to your stomach and back up at your face again, shoulders still tensed.

"I told you when you left, when you broke your word to me. I would never forgive you. You did this. Not me." Your hand pressed to your chest angrily, "I am owed this anger. The Gods will surely forgive me, but will they forgive you?"

Sorrow burrowed its way down your throat as anger crawled up it, you looked at him, and the two met in the middle. A thick and heavy stone that was lodged in your throat that you desperately tried to swallow.

Tears stung your eyes, and you watched as Aemond's anger simmered at the sight of it. Any response that was on the tip of his tongue was lost, and Aemond moved away from you to sit at the fire, singular eye staring into the flames, leaving you to sit at the table alone.

Before long, your meal was over, and your two maids came to clear the table, and ready you for bed, slipping a silk chemise over the top of your head, unbraiding your hair, and letting the thick waves cascade down your back.

Aemond had crawled into bed before you, and you had fluttered about the chambers, delaying the inevitable, and enjoying the way he shifted beneath the sheets watching you as he waited. 

When you went to bed, and settled beneath the sheets, you rolled and turned your back to him, tucking your hands beneath your chin as you fought the urge to not laugh. It was all too much. Too much anger. Too much joy. It got all twisted and mixed together, turning your chest alight. 

You could feel the heat of his gaze from behind you and chose to ignore it, closing your eyes as Aemond blew the remaining candles out beside your bed. The chambers were basked in darkness, and eventually Aemond rolled away from you in a huff. 

A grin peaked through on your lips, hidden in the dark, and soon you fell to sleep.

DRAGONSTONE POV

A few short hours away from the shores of Kings Landing, a raven had finally arrived to Dragonstone. The small, black corvid had made its way across the sea to deliver a message to the Queen.

Queen Rhaenyra had been in her chambers, robe wrapped tightly around her body as Daemon leant his head against the front of her stomach. The once Rogue Prince, seated on an armchair by the fire, his wife standing before him, carding gentle and soft hands through his silver white hair.

"Come to bed, my love." Rhaenyra whispered, hand cupping the older mans cheek.

Daemon lifted his head to look up at the woman he adored, her violet eyes glowing in the light of the fire. She was ethereal. Beautiful. And he loved her more than anything in the world.

His large hands came to grasp at her hips, pulling her forward and into his lap, Rhaenyra straddling her uncle on the large chair. Her hands came to the tops of his shoulders, before skimming up to cradle his face.

"The hour is late." She argued, with no true argument on her lips.

"I did not know there were certain hours in which I could love you." The man smirked, hands rubbing against the flesh of her hips.

As Rhaenyra smiled, she dipped her head to catch Daemon's lips, and a knock came at the door.

Both silver heads turned sharply.

It was late.

And there would be only one reason for such a disturbance.

The pair shared a look before Rhaenyra climbed off the King Consorts lap, moving quickly as she called out to the knight to enter.

Ser Erryk Cargyll pushed through the door, bowing and apologising for the intrusion, his helm off, light brown hair pulled back and away from his face. Daemon came to stand behind his wife, always behind or beside her, to show strength, to show unity.

To be there and support her.

As one.

"There was a raven." The pale hand of the knight moved forward, parchment in his open palm as he gave it to the Queen, who all but snatched it from him.

There was no seal, and the parchment was scrunched and bent. As Rhaenyra opened it, and Daemon moved to stand beside her, they read the short message from their daughter, the Queen's hands tightening on the page.

Rhaenyra stiffened, posture straightening as she looked at the knight before her, "Wake the Maester and the Lords. We have word from the Princess."

The knight bowed, swiftly slipping out of the chambers as Rhaenyra turned to face her husband, who's eyes glinted with a dangerous rage. She could feel the fury that curled around him, and she felt her own burn her just as hotly.

"Go," Came the steady voice of the Queen, her hands dropping to her side, parchment still in one tight fist.

Daemon tilted his head, silver hair shimmering in the chamber light, as though he was unsure of what his wife had said.

Before he could open his mouth to respond, the Queen spoke again, tone final, and anger crackling just beneath.

"Before the Council can talk me out of it."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

[comfortless]

hi, sweetie!! could i maybe get just a crumb more of your dungeoneer!König and his little knight gf 💖🥹 💕

of course, of course! anything for you, marmy!

dungeoneer! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. suggestive, sexism, exhibitionism, masturbation

Slaying the wyrm should have been the end of it, at least that’s what she believes.

With the golden eye in tow, they leave the dungeon side-by-side, dirtied with god only knows what, her formerly pristine armor plates now sullied with blood and scratches born from the claws of the beast. She looks the part of a proper knight, and though he’s utterly adamant that a lady could never be one— König finds himself rolling in equal parts devotion and shame. He’s always pictured his future wife to be some tame lady who isn’t inclined to wield a blade. Not this. He’s ridiculous enough to tell her so, too, and only flashes her a grin at the dirty looks she shoots back in response.

Of course, she has no intention of making good on her teasing below the earth’s surface. It was just to invigorate him for that gruesome battle, honest! When he offers her his name, kneeling before her with his hands wrapped over her thighs like a begging dog, she only finds herself further disgusted by him. König, he says with pride in his voice, an undeniably blasphemous thing to call oneself when he’s not a king at all! A proper, devoted knight should have sheared his head from his shoulders right then, instead she just gives him her name in turn, maybe even bats her eyelashes at this giant fool before reaching for his forearms to right him.

König is shameless when he speaks, prattling endlessly of his aspirations: how he longs to share his home, his bed, even his claim to future children… all with her. She’s never had a man speak to her like this, stare at her like this. In fact, she finds it fascinating how he hasn’t tripped once on their venture back to the gilded castle when the entirety of his focus has been on her.

While she ogles the royal guard standing at the side of the old king, perched on his thrown of rhubarb velvet and shimmering gold, König only has eyes for her. She presents the eye in its mucky satchel, uncrushed and still dewy despite the length of their journey, tells him that it’s not gold that she desires but a place at his knights’ table. König had been kind enough to warn her of the reception beforehand, but even a burst of fire from the maw of a dragon would have felt more pleasant than the pitying glances and the weight of gold coins thrust into her palms before she and her brutish companion were ordered to leave.

Horrible thing that he is— König is almost smug when they cross the rampart, expecting her to sully her face with tears as any lady would. He could play the hero then, whisk her away to a world where she can play the part of a knight fighting rats away from their kitchen and kneeling before his cock instead of some withering old king. He had good intentions, really! He wants to take care of her!

She doesn’t cry, only begrudgingly splits the bounty with him across the table of the tavern they’ve wandered off to. Tells him that she can still live out her dreams in the very same way that he does— taking jobs for the king by wandering through desolate labyrinths crowded with monsters for payment, and that she would still feel very righteous doing it. He’s terribly hard as he watches her down her ale so smoothly, drinking with more vigor than any man, even him.

“You are the most amazing thing,” he grunts, openly gawking at her as he shifts in his seat. Ordinarily, he would have more sense than to whip his cock out in the midst of a crowded tavern, but it’s the late hour and she’s still got the blood of the wyrm cresting her cheek and a look in her eyes that makes his heart feel like a roaring hearth. When the ties of his trousers are undone, his own mug of ale in one hand and his cock fisted in the other he doesn’t even care for the blushing, giggling little tavern maidens— just the woman seated across from him staring daggers into his very soul.

“And you are obscene,” she says haughtily, even as the corner of her lip curls into a smirk. He feels as though Lady Luck has made it her personal goal to give him everything he’s ever hoped for now. Even boisterously sings along with the bard crowding the corner after he’s smeared his seed into his palm. This little knight-hopeful is everything to him already, even with her insults and teasing. He offers her a dance, too, clumsy and drunken as they slur over their words and press close to tell one another stories from their respective travels.

When they’re bathing in the stream just beyond the town, her armor finally shed and her bare flesh lit aglow under the milky gaze of the moon, she finally suggests that, perhaps, they should try traveling together. They’ll split any coin they receive in payment, and it’s safer to have a proper group rather than go at it alone. The words barely register to König at all, too enraptured by her nudity to make any sort of protest. How those steel scales were covering what’s laid bare before him is entirely beyond his imagination. He wants to sink himself into her entirely— his nails, his teeth, his manhood and his heart all buried inside of his companion.

Only, she doesn’t let him, only withdraws from the cool water to cloak herself with a demure smile. He would do anything for her, he believes it wholeheartedly when he follows her to the bank, damp hands grabbing at her breasts tucked beneath the green cloak thrown over her shoulders. König isn’t stupid, drunken but still mindful enough to that know she’s strumming him like a lute. He simply would be happy with what he could get, grins like a demon feasting from the holy when she parts the cloth for him to see her tits while he toys with her, the soft flesh pliant beneath his calloused fingertips. She even moans for him a few times, a pretty desperate sound before she escapes his grip with a giggle and heads back toward the inn.

He stares in disbelief when he finds that they’re not sharing a room as per her request, distributing only enough for her own bed to the innkeeper prior to hastily making her way up the creaking stairs.

The low whines he hears through the thin wood between their rooms paints a picture so vivid for him. He comes undone at her soft, needy song, pretends his hand is the holy space between her legs. His own groaning joins her whispers of lust, her muffled laughs fill the night air when his breath grows ragged as his seed spills out over his abdomen.

There isn’t a doubt in his mind that he will have her in time, it’s fated.

these two are like this to me:

Frank Dicksee. roaring devotion in his eyes while she is very much above him and in control (‘:< heheh very, very them!!

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! reiner braun hcs

i can’t get enough of this man.

cws: yandere themes, slight worshipper themes, the two of you initially met as scouts, aot season 4 spoilers, spoilers in general, kidnapping, kinda all or nothing thinking, some pathetic reiner crumbs bc i love seeing him pathetic, can kinda be perceived as having some form of a personality disorder, forced starvation and dehydration, kinda dehumanization, slight housewife (gn though) vibes but he just wants you to be productive.

— yan! reiner braun who initially fell in love with you during your time in the scouts. he was absolutely enamored with you. you, with all your flaws and rough edges, have single-handedly made it infinitely harder for him to complete his mission.

— yan! reiner who loves when you tend to his wounds. it makes him feel more human, settling further into the delusion that he had always been a paradisian.

— yan! reiner who is constantly hovering around you after he’s come to terms with his feelings. he has to protect you… no, he needs to. no one can protect you but him.

— yan! reiner who ensures that you’re left with someone he knows will protect you when he has to carry out the phases of his mission before leaving to do so. reiner will also immediately look for you when he’s finished, checking you for injuries— big or small, he’ll patch them up with furrowed brows and a firm expression.

— yan! reiner who is a little creepy… and overbearing. when you’re training, he’s training you to protect yourself in a more efficient way. when you’re eating, he’s making sure you eat good, going as far as to give you a portion of his rations. when you have free time, he’s always itching to spend time with you. you almost never have a moment to yourself unless levi has you stationed elsewhere.

— yan! reiner who feels the need to protect you because he’s witness just how bad this world really is. he is the bad… but he can be everything you need if you’ll let him. he needs to be your everything.

— yan! reiner who values your opinion more than his own. he needs your validation and approval and kindness. he feels like a piece of shit already and he knows that you’ll hate him when he completes the final stage of his plan, but god does he need you. he needs you more than he needs air.

— yan! reiner who takes you back to his homeland. whether you’re screaming profanities at him, kicking or screaming, crying or begging for him to let you go… it’s futile in the end. he needs you. he can’t guarantee your protection if he’s away from you. he can’t live without you; you’re his rock.

— yan! reiner who pulls some strings to get you citizenship in marley. shortly after, the two of you are wed. naturally, his family and friends don’t attend since you’re a filthy island devil, but it’s enough for him to finally be marrying you.

— yan! reiner who will never touch you in any way you don’t want him to. he will always respect your bodily autonomy seeing as he already hates himself and views himself as a monster. he wouldn’t want to be even worse of a person to you. as for punishments… well, that’s a different ballgame.

— yan! reiner who, in a fit of anger, would scream at you. he’s done everything for you! he provides for you, he keeps you safe and well-fed, he has never touched you in any sexual manner (unless you’ve given him explicit consent)— he keeps you healthy and safe and you’ll never have to work again! but if you’ve been ungrateful and have been refusing his efforts, unfortunately he wont be able to be the man you want him to be.

— yan! reiner who corners you, roughly jerking you up by your hair and locking you in the basement. he’ll tell you that you can come out once you’ve learned your lesson. he’ll deliver the absolute bare minimum. a bucket to use the bathroom in, stale bread, and a glass of water every three days. how long you stay down there is up to you.

— yan! reiner who will slump against the basement door and sob. he feels awful, but he knows he can’t let you out. he can’t let you walk all over him. it’s even worse that he’s confirming your already terrible view on him.

— yan! reiner who grovels at your feet for forgiveness when you’re finally out of the basement. he’ll bathe you and murmur constant apologies, all while crying about how awful he feels about it. he’ll brush your hair out, wincing as you flinch, and turn around while you dress yourself.

— yan! reiner who will whip up a tasty meal for you, and if you’re unresponsive, feed you himself. he needs to make sure you’re getting the nutrients you need.

— yan! reiner who, if you lost a noticeable amount of weight while in the basement, gazes at you sadly. he’ll go out and purchase supplements for you to take while you recover and insist you stay in bed while he takes care of all the housework.

— yan! reiner who requires you to do things while he’s gone. he at least wants a warm meal when he comes home, and if the house isn’t in disarray it’s acceptable for him. he’ll help you with chores when he gets home— even if he’s exhausted and ready to collapse. he doesn’t want to place too much pressure on you, but he doesn’t want you succumbing to depression.

— yan! reiner who will press a kiss to your temple, forehead, or cheeks. if he’s feeling bold enough, he’ll press a chaste kiss to your lips.

— yan! reiner who will hold you sooo close to him when it’s time for bed. he needs to feel you against him because it helps him sleep. you bring him peace.

— yan! reiner who absolutely has to have physical contact with you when you accompany him to meet with the other warriors. he has to stake his claim. he has to make it known that you’re his, even if the silver band on your left hand speaks volumes.

— yan! reiner who absolutely adores you. he praises you every moment he can. he needs you to understand why he fell in love with you, how lovely you are, and how much he loves you.

— yan! reiner who just wants to love you and be loved in return. he feels like an asshole for ripping you away from everything you’ve ever known but he needs you.

[ecoamerica]

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[likeastarstar]

Needy- NAMJOON

"Hi baby."

Namjoon's deep voice rumbled in your ears, an almost pavlovian response triggered in your body.

You'd think by now, this far into your relationship, the crush you had on him would've worn off. Instead, it seems to have gotten even stronger- your mouth watered whenever he was in front of you, your entire body lit up with anticipation- hoping, wishing, begging for him to come closer to you.

Joon covered your body with his, wrapping you into a secure hug. A smile grew on your lips as you felt his long, strong arms wrap around you and his weight in your body. He put pressed on you as you pushed your face into his chest, breathing in his scent. His lips pressed to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck- making his way down as he squeezed your body like a snake wrapping around its most precious prey-

"I missed you," He mumbled against your skin, breath sending goosebumps down your spine.

"It was only a couple hours-"

"And here I raced home for you," Joon tssked, "Thought about you the entire way, figured we could do date night here at home, yeah? Maybe watch a movie together, take a bath later? I'll wash your hair for you, remember how much you like that?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the memory of the last time your boyfriend washed your hair. A psychological study had to be conducted about the aphrodisiac properties to a head massage and lavender soap.

You exhaled slowly, Joon's eyes tracking yours with the upmost concentration. The heat of his gaze warmed your belly and you tilted your head at him, wondering what exactly it was that put him in this kind of a mood.

"What was Yoongi's show about again? Did it happen to involve something with alcohol maybe?" You hummed, feeling his hand dip under the hem of your shirt and massage your lower back.

His hand crept upwards, calloused fingers rubbing your soft skin with all the desperation in the world. The way he touched you was like a starved man, begging, aching for any crumb of you that he could get.

"What are you insinuating?" Namjoon said suspiciously, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra.

"That every time you drink you get needy," You teased, letting him wrap his other arm around your waist and hoist you into the air, carrying you with ease.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and gripped his arms, face so close to his your lips grazed each others', teasing each other endlessly.

"Don't you need me baby?" Joon mumbled against your lips.

You held him there, close to you, where you could feel his body heat warm you up and smell him- that spicy, woody smell that was all his and now it was spiked with liquor.

"Of course I do," You assured quickly, "You know I do."

He smirked up at you, pressing his lips to yours in a possessive, greedy sort of way that made your head spin. It was like you were the one who was drunk, the way he set your body on fire as he set you down gently, spinning you around so fast you had to catch yourself against the wall, back arched as he pushed your legs apart roughly.

"Lemme go down on you, please? Can I please put my mouth on you?" He asked, large hand working your pussy through your pants.

You moaned, nodding half a second before he ripped your pants halfway down your legs, mouth kissing down the length of your spine almost immediately. He ate you out like that, chest shoved against the wall and holding on for dear life. His tongue was rough and thorough, leaving no part of you untouched.

You felt like a bolt of lightning had struck from your head to your toes, opening up for him as he thrusted in and out of your pussy. He added his fingers as if his tongue wasn't enough, thumb flicking and prodding at your clit until you were cumming against his face, back arched so sharply you were sure to feel sore tomorrow.

It was like all the air had been sucked from the room as he manhandled you, lifting you back up in his arms to take all the work away from you, "You still with me?" He asked, looking down at you with an exhilarated, chaotic look on his face.

You hummed in response, nodding at him as he gathered you in his arms. He gave you his cheekiest grin before you heard the clink of his belt hitting the floor, slamming his hips up into you in one fell thrust. You moaned loudly, raking your nails down his back so sharply it would've broke skin if he wasn't wearing a shirt still.

There was something so satisfyingly lust filled about the way your bodies moved against each others, rough and intense like you hadn't seen each other in ages. He fucked into you hard, filling you in every way possible and then some. The pace Namjoon set was ruthless, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking bruises into the skin that would last days.

You grabbed at his hair, tugging on thick black locks with no reservations as he pushed your legs even wider, one pinning your thigh out and the other keeping you half wrapped around him, ankle hooked against his lower back.

"I'm so c-close," You whined, your voice hoarse and dry from moaning out his name.

"Tell me how much you need me," Joon demanded, "Tell me how good you feel and I'll let you cum."

You obliged immediately, never turning down and opportunity to praise your boyfriend. You whined and begged and pleaded for him to make you cum, to touch you the way only he could, to cum inside of you so that you could be his and his only the way you knew you were.

He kept his eyes on your as he touched your clit, thrusts quickening as you came all over his cock, Namjoon finishing closely behind you. The two of you basked in the afterglow, your breathing synced as you floated back down to earth. He didn't bother setting you down, instead simply adjusting his grip on you so that he could carry you more securely.

"Time for that bath, huh?" He suggested, carrying you off towards the bathroom you shared.

It was going to be a long night...

masterlist.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

stares at rollo with my autistic eyes like this

Rollo, that's not how you flirt/j

Like Fire, Hellfire.

“… What is it that you need?” Rollo asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. His mouth was hidden by a square of fabric—but surely it was arranged in a scowl.

You continued to stare at him with big, soulful eyes. The look was reminiscent of the expression of a puppy longing for a headpat. Any moment now, he anticipated a weak, trembling whimper out of you.

“Pathetic,” Rollo murmured, crossing his arms. “So desperate for a crumb of attention.”

You caught the ominously crimson glare of his ring as he tapped a finger. Patiently? Impatiently? It was so difficult to tell from a glance at the neutral mask he called his face.

Wait, no. His eyebrows were slightly scrunched now. An indication of annoyance.

"If you don't speak up, I'm left with no choice but to make unfavorable assumptions on why it is that you're ogling me," he sighed, faint disgust lightly dusting his tone. Still, there is a patience in them as well.

Rollo watched you carefully. "... The thought has crossed my mind before, but have you perhaps sought me out to confess your sins and beg for forgiveness?"

"M-Maybe," you meekly muttered.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a bemused smirk. "It cannot be helped. It was only a matter of time before a crack formed in the clever deception those blasted mages wove. Fufufu, there is hope for your soul yet."

Rollo raised both hands in a gesture that appeared to be welcoming a hug--but there was no kindness behind it. Here was a patron saint, calling to a lost sheep.

"I would be more than happy to take you in with gracious, open arms. If not..." A dark shadow crossed over his features. "... I will have no qualms about casting you into the pits of hell along with the rest of them."

The air turned icy. Discomfort crawled down your back. You blinked, and your watery eyes had frozen over.

"Well? Which shall it be?" He smiled softly, but his words were as harsh as a judge delivering a criminal's sentence. "The decision is yours to make."

Me or the pyre?

[abiiors]

Do you have any plans to write smut ? 👀👀. I'm starving and begging for a crumb

.ೃ࿐ the jeweller's hands

(wrote this on my phone and it’s not proofed, sorry!!!)

cw: cheating, mean matty

“keep it down or i’ll fucking stop,” matty growls in your ear the moment your back hits the wall. 

fifteen minutes. that’s how long you lasted before seeking him out in the crowd—a risky fucking business considering you’re attending this stupid little charity gala with your husband in the first place. 

regardless, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

not that you’re even thinking about him right now… the man you came here with is the absolute last thing on your mind. your thoughts wander—first to matty in a suit, to his sleeves straining over his biceps and the way he wears no tie to this formal event. his shirt collar is open too, tattoos peeking out surrounded by a fine dusting of hair that’s gone slightly grey now, just like the grey in his curls. 

he’s a vision. and now he’s here. inches away. trapping you between him and the wall and grinding his pelvis against yours in a way that makes it very clear what he’s here for. 

matty hand tightens on your hips. 

“here?”

“oh, don’t act coy with me now.”

his voice drops down to a harsh whisper, voice full of venom and lust but he only steps closer and the heat in your belly burns hotter. 

so what if this is wrong… 

“didn’t think about that when you were making fuck me eyes at me out there, did you?”

no. you didn’t. 

but he can chase you a bit more. 

“someone’s going to hear us,” you all but purr in his ear, niping at his earlobe. matty’s hold on you tightens and suddenly there’s not enough air in this fancy, marbled bathroom. 

“then you’re just going to have to shut up and take it like a good little slut, yeah?”

there’s no way you would ever let anyone else speak this way to you. but matty is older, matty knows what he’s doing. matty, with his calloused hands and a fallen angel face knows how to make your blood sing.

he is the only one that gets a pass. 

“strip,” he orders and takes a small step back. 

you can’t help the small choked sound of protest that leaves you but then there he is again, spinning you around and undoing the zip of your dress before you can make another sound. 

“can you step out of your dress on your own?” his mouth lowers to your ears, warm breath cascading down your cheeks, lips brushing against your skin ever so slightly. “it won’t be pretty if i have to do it, love. it might end up on the floor in tatters.”

you swallow harshly and nod just once. 

he’s on you the moment the dress pools around your feet and you stand there, back pressed to the wall in just a thong. you don’t miss the way his eyes hungrily take you in—the curve of your hips and up to your stomach. then to your tits. 

of course, his eyes linger there—on your peaked nippes and then up to your neck. you resist the urge to squirm under his gaze. 

“are you just gonna stand there and watch me?”

matty clicks his tongue. 

“you’ve gotten bold, haven’t you?”

“only because you’ve gone soft,” you taunt. it has the effect you want it to have. 

matty crashes his lips against yours before you’re even properly done speaking. it’s a furious kiss—teeth clashing together on impact, your lipstick smeared all over your mouth. this isn’t a soft kiss. it’s not a lovers’ kiss. 

this is a kiss that stings.

“that what you think?” he speaks when he takes a moment to breathe and your heart leaps in your throat. oh he sounds angry. the kind of anger that he’s about to take out on you… 

“we’ll have to change that won’t we…”

“we—fuck!”

you feel a sharp sting as matty pinches your nipple between his fingers, taking advantage of the piercing, digging the cold metal further into your skin until your legs start shaking. wildfire runs through your blood, burning away any sane thought in its way, leaving you with just desire and lust and complete abandon.

“what was that? couldn’t hear you that well…”

this time you don’t try. 

“please–shit! please, matty!” you whine, trying to clench your thighs together, but he pushes his knee between them, his body holding yours against the wall. 

the bathroom somehow seems smaller now, hotter than it was before. the only thing between you and someone else walking in is a flimsy locked door. 

anyone could knock. anyone could—

“you’re thinking,” he tuts. he’s right though. you are thinking…

good thing he’s right there to fuck you dumb. 

“good little sluts don’t overthink,” his fingers hook harshly into the waistband of your thong and you already know what’s coming next. 

a ripping sound echoes in the room and your thong falls to the floor, ripped to shreds. 

“gonna send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs, darling, that what you want? hmm?” his words swirl around your brain at a dizzying pace making you nod involuntarily. 

that is what you want… to feel him so deep inside you that you won’t forget it for days. to have your lungs full of his cologne. to have your fingers shoved so deep in your mouth that you’d gag around them. 

your heart pounds in your entire body as you help matty undo his belt with shaky fingers. he’s already so hard under your touch, groaning as you palm him first through his trousers and then through his boxers. 

fuck. for a moment you wonder what he would taste like. if he would let you if you just dropped to your knees right here. but the desperation to feel him inside, hitting the spot over and over again, has you drooling. 

“spread your legs,” he whispers roughly and his fingers find your clit. 

lazily, he swipes through your folds and collects some of the wetness making you hiss in pleasure. your eyes roll to the back of your head—this is what it should feel like always, no thoughts, just him and his hands and—

without warning you feel the tip of his cock entering you and you bite onto his shouder, desperate to keep the screams in. 

“matty—”

but his mouth is on yours once again, swallowing every moan and scream and hiss of pleasure as he pounds into you mercilessly. 

his hips slam into yours at a bruising pace; urgent and desperate, like he can’t get enough. it’s feverish even, almost as if you might slip away if he lets go even just a little. matty lets out a string of curses between each kiss. 

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know your lips will be swollen and red by the time you’re done. you know you’ll have to find some way to look put together before going out again. but right now you don’t care… not when your entire body is full of ecstacy. not when matty makes you feel so so good.

sooner or later it will end, your mind reminds you. it will end and you’ll have to gather yourself and go out and play good little wife to a man you barely care about. 

it will end and you will go your separate ways only to find each other again in some shady corner or some brightly lit bathroom at some pretentious event…

matty’s breath hitches when you clench around him. 

the feeling in your spine is overwhelming—the tingles, the little electric jolts, the bursts of pleasure that build and build until the knot inside your stomach tightens impossibly fast. 

“matty—gonna cum–please…”

“feel so good, darling,” he replies. a rare praise coming from him but it intensifies the dizziness, the bloodrush. “let me feel you,” he coaxes. this time, his voice comes out much softer, almost…tender. 

“cum for me,” he speaks and pulls your thighs higher over his hip. suddenly he’s reaching so much deeper, hitting the spot harder and the trembling in your body increases tenfold.

your legs spasm, barely holding you upright and a wave of pleasure crashes over you.

the next time you open your eyes, matty’s face is contorted with pleasure, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly and you feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of your cunt and down your thigh. exactly what he’d promised.

if you look down, you’ll find his hands imprinted on your hips—red marks in the shape of his fingers that will no doubt bruise in the next couple of days. something of his for you to hold on to, long after he leaves. a welcome sting.

he does look down when he opens his eyes—looks down at the way your bodies are joined together, how your legs part around him, how your body fits into the crevices of his so perfectly. he almost smiles then but shakes his head slightly.

you expect him to say something, anything that would fill in the silence.

you were good, darling.

you were amazing.

come home with me.

he says none of those things. silently, matty zips us his trousers and fixes his belt. then he brings his thumb to your chin, softly wiping away the lipstick stains, up to your thumb so he can do the same there.

his eyes remain trained to your lips but you suspect it’s more cowardice this time than lust.

“get dressed,” matty speaks and his voice comes out brittle, devoid of feelings. “don’t want your husband to come looking for you.”

and then he steps away, as if none of this ever really happened.

[sftandwet]

 SMELL OF BLOOD! VAMP ADA & VAMP LEON X YOU

content alert ★ pwp, pussy eating, biting, blood, sub reader, use of dagger, superficial cut, licking blood, threesome | vamp leon x reader x vamp ada

links ★ masterlist revil ! ☁️ ۰ movie star event

❨author's ۰ notes ❩ ★ I loved writing this, I confess i wrote it when i was drunk :D seeing re4's aesthetics gives me a wonderful feeling, so writing this was a delight.

Feeling the sharp nails scratching your skin, you experience thin lines of pleasure running through your body. Tied to the bed, completely naked and under the gaze of Leon and Ada, you feel restless. Excitement flows rapidly like fuel in a fire, and intoxicated with pleasure, as if you had consumed high doses of alcohol. Longing for any contact, you are willing to do anything they desire, surrendering completely to their whims.

"So eager... so needy... Hold back and be patient, because if everything ends too quickly, there won't be any fun," whispers Ada against your lips, before gently kissing them, skillfully sliding her tongue over yours. With surprising kindness, she bites and sucks your lips, holding your face in her hands, occasionally pausing to look into your eyes, then kissing you again a little faster, always nibbling on your lips. "And we all want to have fun, darling."

Taking opposite positions, Leon takes his place on the left and Ada lies down on your right side, delicately. They explore your skin with subtle touches, gently tracing the lines of your face with cold fingers, provoking shivers through your body and causing your back to arch.

"You're so sensitive," Leon laughs playfully, burying his head in your neck and leaving kisses on your warm skin, while sliding his left hand smoothly along your bare leg, pulling it and opening it for himself. Ada follows suit, assisting the blond in parting your legs. "I appreciate every little detail of your body," she declares lovingly.

“Everything is so perfect” Ada confesses to you, sliding past your legs, reaching your crotch, running her hand over your pussy, feeling your essence wet the tips of her fingers. Wong doesn't shy away, trying to dip his fingers into your wet hole slowly, feeling your cunt squeeze his fingers.

“A-Ada, p-please” In a mix of desire and desperation, you beg, raising your hips in search of an extra dose of pleasure, but the provocative rhythm only increases your madness. Each time she penetrates and removes her fingers completely, you involuntarily contract the void, in a vain attempt to prolong the sensation. "Please"

You feel a gentle bite on your neck as Leon slides his hand further down. You gasp in despair. Internally, feelings of self-deprecation begin to emerge. Feeling so desperate over so little makes you question why you are so sensitive. There hasn't even been an overload of pleasure and you're already panting, spilling out every time you feel the red orbs staring at your essence. Every kiss and every touch of their fangs gives you pleasure. You long for a bond devoid of formalities, you ardently want to be bitten and become theirs forever .

Now Leon was touching you too, Ada sees him touching and takes his hand, bringing it closer to your pleasure center, which he rubs gently, you scream, closing your eyes with the immeasurable pleasure you feel. Your body needs it and you know it, although they also know it, seeing you so vulnerable and so needy for so little made them shiver, catching a glimpse of your wet cunt from mere touches was like admiring a work of art. Both were on their knees between your legs, resting your legs on their laps, while touching your pussy.

“Please, I need more” with effort you managed to speak straight, loud and clear, shamelessly begging for more touches. It was like torture, sadistic and impetuous, torturing you with crumbs of pleasure .

“Be patient, bunny” Leon comes out and comes to your face, gently holding your chin, looking at you with his scarlet orbs, catching a glimpse of your tearful gaze, pleading eyes in his direction.

“Fun must last, love” Leon kisses your lips, unlike Ada who was soft, he is a little rougher. Sticking his tongue in your mouth, sucking your lips hard, while sliding his hands to your neck, squeezing it with pressure, you sigh and he takes the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth again. “Be a good girl for us…”

"And we'll do whatever you want" with catlike steps, Ada approaches you, kissing your neck, running her fangs slowly along your warm skin while her fingers circled your nipple. Leon imitates her, although a little more impolite than Ada, your body reacts the same way when you feel them touch you.

They both slide their fingers down your abdomen, feeling your skin crawl under their fingers and your body stiffen, fingers finding your wet pussy, making a light caress before Leon opens her labia and Ada slides her fingers under her needy clit. Rubbing it in slow movements, gently passing the tips of his fingers over the point of pleasure, making her arch her back.

“F-fuck! Please, Ada… a little faster, p-please” you beg, looking deep into the scarlet of her eyes, seeing her laugh at you. However, Ada does not do what you want, on the contrary, she increases her speed minimally, when your body begins to numb with pleasure she stops abruptly, looking directly into your despair eyes when she does so.

She smiles looking at you immobilized wrists. “Have I told you that I like you like this?” His mouth slowly approaches your erect nipple, licking it carefully, biting hard, listening to your scream. “Completely given to me… Needy and desperate ”

“So beautiful” Leon added, taking his hands off you and getting on his knees between your legs, looking at your cunt clenching into nothingness, with Ada's finger still pressing your clitoris, admiring it as it drips, the translucent cum slowly spilling out, making it wet the mattress. Salivating, feeling uncontrollable before you, Leon lowers himself towards your pussy, without delay he licks it generously, sliding his tongue inside your wet hole. “So delicious”

“I think I want to try some too” Ada gets out of bed, taking slow steps to the bedside table and picking up a dagger, which she holds and places next to her on the pillow “For later”.

She lies down next to Leon, staying at a minimum distance from him, taking one of his legs and exposing your pussy to him. You feel your body burn, just having them there makes you moan and feel that heat in your abdomen, that hot sensation that makes you anxious.

You spread your legs, exposing yourself to the maximum, closing your eyes when they firmly hold your leg. You feel hair touch your thighs again, a feeling of anxiety hits you again when you feel both faces approaching your pussy, causing you immeasurable pleasure to see them there. Leon is the first to take the step, she presses her tongue inside you, swirls it against the sensitive nerves, pulls it out to lick hard your clitoris, while Ada kisses your calf, quickly sliding it across your skin.

You moaned deeper, forcing your eyes to open to meet his. He looked so perfect like that, hovering over your pussy with his lips parted in ecstasy. You untangled your left leg, using it to push his head, making him return to where he was. He snuggled into the mattress, holding your hips closer to his face as he continued to thrust his tongue into you, touching that sweet spot inside you. “Fuck, fuck, right there!”

You closed your eyes once again, trying hard to rub your pussy against his face.

“Look at me, pretty girl” Ada asked, grabbing your thigh tightly, trying to get your attention “I want to see your pretty face, while we suck your cunt.”

She lies down next to Leon, grabbing his golden locks, pulling him out of that spot, hearing a dissatisfied guttural growl from Leon.

“Calm down, big boy. I want to have fun too.” Face side by side, cheeks pressed together, they both stick out their tongues and lick your pussy. Both tongues pressing your clitoris, holding your legs and placing them against your breasts, giving them the freedom to use your cunt to their advantage. Tongues fighting for territory, silent dispute between them, you felt them favorably eating you, you feel a tongue enter your hole, gently taking and placing ─ Ada, you feel her licking your clitoris with force, being followed by Leon, who also your clitoris, sometimes disturbing Ada's rhythm, earning an angry moan.

You felt immersed in the sea, waves taking you wherever the wind sends you, brutally manipulating your path. The incandescent pleasure burning through your body, taking that unsettling feeling to your stomach. Your legs tremble every time you feel them fucking your pussy with their mouth, every time you feel your cum dripping from your pussy or them gently biting your clit. Feeling the nerves on edge.

“My God! II….Fuck” Your body gives in to the pleasure, shaking from head to toe, cumming hard on Ada and Leon's tongue, feeling them even more fervent in front of you, they still suck your clit hard, you try to close your legs, however, seeing Leon get up and brutally hold your legs you are stopped. Meanwhile, Leon holds them with his right hand and Ada walks towards him, seeing his tired face; teary eyes, swollen lips and furrowed eyebrows.

“Now, you will be ours” you don't know when she took the knife, however, you saw when she cut her own hand and put the blood on your lips, you lick it, feeling the metallic taste on your lips, Wong boils when she sees you like that, biting her lips and looking into your eyes. “Only ours” Leon added, sliding his hard and hot cock through your pussy, watching your hole tighten to nothing, until he enters you, being watched by Ada's scarlet eyes, he lies on top of you, surrounding your legs around your waist.

“L-Leon” you close your eyes tightly, moaning as you feel the pleasure merge with you again.

As Kennedy buries their head in your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin, you feel a mixture of anticipation and desire for what is to come. The intensity of the moment increases when you realize that Ada is also doing the same, causing your body to fill with fervor and shivers.

With your head lifted and your gaze turned upwards, you stretch your neck to the maximum, seeking to absorb every sensation. It is in this instant, amidst the caresses and the pleasurable sighs, that you hear Wong, near your ear, releasing a faint laughter that echoes intriguingly and temptingly.

“Good girl” whispers before both of them plunge their fangs into your neck, and a deafening scream escapes your lips as the sharp needles penetrate your skin. However, the pain is insignificant in the face of the prospect of having eternity to enjoy alongside the people you desired. The scent of blood will be tempting, the taste of immortality on your lips. The kisses throughout your endless life will be solely for them, and that is what truly matters."