#dress code: dread

[fannedandflawless]

🧥 Snape’s Thursday Wardrobe Philosophy

All black. Always.

More swirl = more warning.

Cloak sharpness increases with staff meeting frequency.

If the robes are louder than your self-esteem, that’s intentional.

[coolsvilleprincess]

Had an itch to draw Mortifer and Nikara because I was thinking about them teaming up so now it's the annual Warlock of the Year party and the theme is fur coats (I imagine Vincent's is faux but the other two who really is to say)

I do wonder how they would interact in a situation where both of them and Vincent are all lurking around the same party. Vincent and the gang attending the same awards party as both of Van Ghoul's exes would be a fun concept I think.

[mia-can-yap-too]

Today is the most important day of Nanami's life. Today, he finally marries the love of his life.

Everything went perfectly. There were no complications, and everyone seemed happy. Most importantly, you were overjoyed, too, looking as divine as ever in your white dress. Nanami knew he would cherish this day for the rest of his life.

Well, everything except right now, maybe.

Currently, it's his wedding reception. It's warm with fairy lights and the sound of glasses clinking.

But this also means it's also time for his best man speech. Unfortunately, the best man just so happens to be Gojo.

The man in question grins widely. A little too widely.

"Today, we are all gathered here to witness the miracle of someone marrying Nanami Kento, a guy who once tried to resign from life because his favorite bakery ran out of his beloved bread."

People laugh. Nanami's eye twitches. He tries to take the mic from him. "Okay, that's enough."

Gojo waves him off. "Let me finish, Nanamin! You should be proud! After all, it takes real charisma to seduce someone via Google Calendar invites!"

You're nearly crying from laughter. Betrayal at it's finest.

"It's true!" Gojo, much to Nanami's dread, continues. "Their third date was titled "Possible Romantic Engagement (Trial 3)" and color-coded beige. The only spice was the footnote, which said 'hand-holding permitted always'."

Nanami, gracefully, lunges for the mic, but Gojo side steps as if he were professionally trained.

"Anyways, let's not forget his wild days. Remember, Thailand, Nanami?"

He narrows his eyes. "Don't you dare–"

"He was offered a lap dance. And he said, and I quote, 'No thanks, I'm saving for a rice cooker.'"

Before Nanami can get the chance to strangle Gojo to death, Yuji appears, with cue cards in hand.

"My turn! My turn!" The boy beams. "I just wanna say, I look up to Nanamin a lot. He's the dad I never had. The emotionally repressed dad who once broke his arm trying to iron his shirt while wearing it cuz he was getting late to a sorcerer meeting."

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.

"That was one time. I was sleep deprived."

"Let's not forget the PowerPoint proposal!" Gojo jumps back in. Where did he get the mic? Who knows.

"Title slide:- 'Statistical Reasons to Marry Me'. Slide three was a pro and con list. The only con? He won't tolerate mixing the whites with the darks when doing laundry."

You are now full on wheezing.

Nanami turns to you and deadpans. "I was being honest."

Gojo raises his glass. "In all seriousness... Nanami is a great guy. A little stiff. Deeply tragic. Probably haunted. But the most loyal and caring man I've ever known. Full of love, too, even if it's expressed through dry sarcasm and firm handshakes."

Yuji wipes a tear. "Yeah, we love you, Nanamin."

He exhales. Peace. Finally.

But then, Gojo adds, "Also, he cried during Finding Nemo, but not when Nemo got lost. But when the dad filed taxes."

"I am kicking you out of my wedding."

[gingerthee]

whoever created professional dress codes me and my ill-fitting chinos and sweater need to have A Word with you

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

FAVOURITISM. [PART ONE]

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 1956 summary. tangerine was put out of work following the events of an accident. as a result, he created his own business, applying all of his knowledge. you work as a secretary cross technical assistant for him and working very closely to the big bad boss catches the eyes of your peers. one day he notices a change in your workwear — proving to you, he’s been paying a lot more attention than you originally thought. boss x secretary. disclaimer. the images at the bottom are just a reference of what I picture the reader wearing. they are not a reflection of how I write or see yn (colour and body type) it’s merely a way to show you what I envisioned

MY 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! it’s only right that I write for tan seeing as it all started with him xx also a big big loving thank you to @pretty-little-mind33 for the idea and brainstorming with me. literally would not have done this without her <33

SERIES MASTERLIST

⎯ ☆ ⎯

It wasn’t often that you’d find yourself not looking forward to work — feeling anxious to get in. Your love for what you do always seeming to overshadow any discomfort.

For the last several months, you’ve been working as a technical assistant cross secretary for your boss, Tangerine. No one knew of his real name, and you were starting to think that’s the way it’ll always be. 

Last night after your shift, you were brought to HR for an unexpected meeting, being called up on a dress code violation. Multiple complaints made around the office about your bright tights and flowy shirts, being told that it was ‘unfit for work’ and a ‘distraction.’ You knew you weren’t exactly well liked around the office — the sneers and scowls made your way making that evident. But never did you think they would go so far out of their way to complain about you. 

Their dislike for you felt territorial — judgy eyes always seeming to follow you as you attend to the needs and wants of your boss. The attention you gain from the broody, grumpy man in charge, simply asks and tasks you agreed to in your job description. The repetitive calls for your name only ever consisting of tea requests or computer help. It left you feeling confused and isolated, constantly wondering why they hated you so much. You were only ever doing your job. Doing what was asked of you. 

So, as you sit in your car before the start of the workday, you use your spare few moments to collect yourself, preparing for those same judgemental stares. You look down at your legs briefly, noticing the lack of colour — your usual patterned tights now being replaced with grey, drab trousers. All of your vibrancy and exuberancy —personality— stolen when told to make this change. 

You exhale, giving yourself one last second of sanity before you’re getting out of the car, juggling your bags and cups of coffee in hand. Stepping into the building and into the elevator with a small crowd, you become invisible, blending in with everyone — becoming what you’ve always dreaded: a lifeless office zombie, sharing the same apathetic, dull expression with all those around you. 

You reach your floor and exit with the few remaining others in the lift. You deviate from your colleagues and head for your bosses office at the back, giving his door a couple of knocks. 

“Yeah?” he calls out, and you slowly push the door open.

His usual rigged, intimidating gaze softens as his eyes fall on you through the gap, his attention landing on you over the top of his computer.

“You’re late,” he says, the words a reprimand for most, but for you they were more of an observation — a casual, flyaway statement. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a nightmare,” you apologise as you step into his office, avoiding his eyes like you were ashamed. 

You look down to the coffees in hand and pass him the one without the lipstick mark, extending an arm as you move to stand beside his desk.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens,” he reassures. And as he takes the cup from your hold, he glances down, noticing the lack of your familiar flamboyance. “What’re you wearing?”

You look down confused, brows pulling together as if to show you didn’t understand his question.

“The trousers,” he looks up at you, gaze almost harsh. “Why're you wearing them?” 

He has never seen you wear trousers.

“Thought I’d shake things up,” you shrug with your lie, not wanting him to know the real reason.

You didn’t want to give your peers more reason to hate you by tattling to the boss — complaining about them being mean to you, so you decided against it, keeping him from the truth. Though it’s far harder than you anticipated, his eyes ever so demanding as he remains fixed on you above. 

“So no smiley face is also part of you shaking things up?” he questions, showing you the blank cup — your usual sharpie smileys nowhere to be seen. 

You wince slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You weren’t sure if the embarrassment was from the fact he noticed or that you forgot. But humiliation was felt either way.

“It’ll save us the ballache if you tell me why,” he takes a sip of his drink and places it aside, giving you his full attention. “I can call a staff meeting, but I reckon they’ll get suspicious after seeing us talk,” he playfully blackmails, offering you a faint smile to show you his bribe holds no such malice.

You turn and look out through the window of his office, picking up on dozens of sets of eyes glued to you through the gap of his blinds. All of which briskly turn away upon the glance of Tangerine, his eyeline following yours — scaring your peers back into work.

“What’d they do?” he asks, redirecting your focus back to him.

“I just got a complaint, that’s all,” you shrug, trying to minimise it as much as possible.

“Why?” he asks bluntly, neck craning to keep your eyes on him.

“They don’t like the way I dress apparently,” you laugh faintly, the noise sounding far more hurt than you intended. “I mean I get it,” you deflect, trying not to slip into a habit of seeking him for assurance when people in the office turn against you. “I get what they mean.”

He’s quiet as he looks over you, head shaking disapprovingly as he mumbles something incoherent. He inhales deeply and then coughs to clear his throat, sounding like he was preparing for something. 

“I gotta meet with some people, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he stands, reaching for his briefcase. “Don’t let these miserable lot get to you,” he smiles weakly as he collects his coffee cup, heading towards the door until he stops, and turns around to face you. “They hate that I don’t hate you, that’s all.” 

Your eyes follow after him as he leaves his office, leaving you standing there alone to process his words. You’ve never really picked up on the hinted favouritism like your colleagues have — never seeming to notice the allowances and kindness your peers aren’t granted with. But you were only ever doing as told, why would that warrant any special treatment? 

And with that thought in mind, you head towards your desk just outside of his office, setting your things on your neatly, organised table. Placing your hot drink in his designated spot besides your computer, you log on — attending to emails and to things on your extensive to do list.

A few hours pass you by.

You’re interrupted from all work when you feel the presence of someone standing behind you, your boss now back from his meeting with a pile of papers in hand.

“Need you to sort these out for me,” he says as places the stack beside your hand. “Please,” he adds, trying to keep up with the habit he’s trying to enforce by showing his appreciation. But only to you.

You look down to the pile, noticing a gap in between the blank, plain papers. You look up at him briefly, like you were asking permission and then your eyes fall back onto the stack. And as you go to lift the upper chunk of papers, Tangerine is moving from you and into his office, a new bag —a shopping bag— held within the hand of his briefcase. You take little to no notice and turn your attention back to the pile, a square paper bag hiding within the fake forms. The perfect cloak of disguise. 

You didn’t need to look inside to know what it was, the warm circle giving it away immediately. It was a cookie. You swivel in your chair to look into his office, his eyes already on you through the gap in his blinds. The gap you’re now starting to believe holds another purpose. You smile at him sweetly, mouthing thanks before resuming with your work — wanting to get it all done before the end of the day.

And as five pm soon rolls around and as everyone begins logging off and packing up for home, you turn to look back at Tangerine, a pained expression on his face as he rolls his shoulder. His old injury you know very little about seeming to give him grief.  

The floor begins to clear and you collect your things, walking those few steps until you’re in front of your boss's door. You give it a light tap and enter when welcomed.

“You off?” he asks, turning his attention to you in his doorframe. 

“Yep,” you smile, lingering for a moment. “Thank you for the cookie, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he gently smiles, head bowing almost bashfully. “Hang on and I’ll walk you out. Don’t want you out in the dark by yourself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you deflect, not wanting to be a bother. “Really it’s okay, my car is only outside.”

He shakes his head at you as he gives his desk a quick tidy, packing things up for the night. Tangerine stands and collects his belongings, picking up his coat from the rack and small bag from the side before he’s heading to you, guiding you along. 

You each walk towards the open elevators and head in, standing side by side —close— within the confined space. 

He twists inwards to face you. “I uh,” he starts, extending the shopping bag from earlier to you. “I picked something up for you.”

Your brows tug in the middle, looking up at him like you were questioning the reasoning why. You take it from his hand and look inside. 

“No,” you whisper, sheer disbelief in your voice as you pull out the gift. “These are beautiful! Where did you even find them?” you question, looking over the tights, marvelling at the pattern. 

He keeps his head cast downwards, looking between his feet as he smiles, appreciating your appreciation. “It’s a secret.”

The elevator dings, cutting your time short and you both look at each other, the glance brief. He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to step off first,  and you do. You linger, waiting for him to join so you could walk besides one another. 

The walk towards your car is slow, as if both of you are trying to savour the short journey, hang on to it. Small chuckles and shy, stolen glances being the only form of communication during your minute long walk.

You reach into your bag and pull out your keys to unlock your car, the dozen chains and charms jingling and clattering with the movement of your hand. 

Tangerine reaches for your door, pulling the handle to open it for you — nodding you inside. You smile at him sweetly as you get in, placing your bags on the passenger seat. 

“You get home safe, alright?” he says, grinning softly.

“I will,” you look down coyly, smile faint.

He nods once. “Good.”

“See you monday?” 

“Mhm-hm,” he hums, expression gentle as he goes to close your door. “Have a good weekend,” he says before shutting you inside.

You exhale shakily within the quiet sanctuary of your car, the lack of noise allowing your mind to run rampant with repeats from the last few minutes. You glance down to your gift, trying to process it all until your eyes land on the tag — his name, his real name squiggled on the note.

The favouritism you’ve struggled to notice becomes as clear as day. Every interaction from the past now being thought of differently as you look back on it all. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

in my mind she’s very penelope garcia/ louisa clark/ jessica day/ phoebe buffay coded (more so in dress sense) she’s cute and i love her

[ PART TWO ]

[withwritersblock]

Catch My Breath

~Catch My Breath by Alex Warren~

Author's Note: requested and also I love this one ngl Summary: Y/N overheard a comment about her appearance from another WAG and Luke tries to help her feel better Warnings: insecurity, mentions of weight and appearance Word Count: 5,682 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

She was a confident person. She wasn’t shy about showing off her body. She wasn’t skinny and she was okay with that. More than okay with that. It wasn’t until she started dating Luke. 

He was a professional athlete. He was tall and skinny but had amazing muscles in the process. He was everything that she wasn’t. She was happy. He made her feel beautiful in every way possible. He never made her feel less than perfect. 

It was a passing thought in her mind that his fans wouldn’t like her because she wasn’t the typical WAG. She was nothing like the other girls that were in relationships with the Devils. Reanne was her best friend out of all of them. The other girls were not as welcoming. 

She overheard one of the girls say that since Y/N was here all of the pictures would be ruined with her in them. The comment made her feel like she was in elementary school all over again.

She decided it would be best to not tell Luke. It would only create riffs between him and the teammates. Everyone was defensive of their partner and it would create unneeded tension.

She’s avoided several of the WAG only events because she was afraid of what they would say.

Tonight was supposed to be a party with the players and the partners. She was dreading on going while Luke hasn’t stopped talking about it since the plans were set in stone.

She was sitting at her vanity, staring at her reflection while she prepped her skin for makeup. Luke walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He gripped the towel tighter as his eyes landed on her frame. 

He walked closer to her, “Hey baby,” he sing-songed as he walked towards her. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze.

“Hi,” she let out softly while scanning his features. He scanned her features, his cheeks flushing in the process. He smirked as his gaze dipped towards her lips. Her perfect lips. He leaned dwon and kissed her delicately.

“So stunning,” he mumbled against her lips. She rolled her eyes playfully before she pecked his lips once more. He smirked as he leaned back, keeping his gaze low on her lips. “Did the girls say the dress code?” he asked as he started walking towards his closet. 

Her lips parted as she took a hold of her phone and opened up the group chat. Reanne had shared a photo of her attire, alongside Curtis. She was wearing a light blue sundress as Curtis was wearing a button up shirt with a pair of jeans. 

“Jeans and a nice top please,” she singsonged while she began to brush through her eyebrows. 

“Got it, baby,” he offered while walking into his closet. 

She swallowed harshly while she continued with her makeup routine, incredibly slowly. She didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to interact with the other girls. But Luke was so excited to spend time with his teammates.

It didn’t take long for Luke to walk back into the bedroom. His frame was covered in a dark green button up with a pair of dark wash jeans. Her posture straightened as she looked behind to see Luke adjusting the top button. 

She smirked as she looked his frame up and down. “You look really handsome,” she said as she met his gaze. He smiled softly as he dropped his hands to the side shyly. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said as he awwardly shifted backwards towards the bathroom. A nervous laugh left his lips. “We have to leave in like thirty minutes, will you be ready?” he asked. Her lips parted as she looked back towards the mirror in front of her. “–or we could make a fashionably late entrance,” he teased.

“I’ll be ready, I promise,” she offered as she reluctantly began to apply her makeup faster on her skin. 

“Okay,” he sang out with a soft laugh leaving his lips. 

~~~

The ride over to the team get together was only ten minutes and the entire time she was nervous. She was freaking out that the dress she picked was too tight and that it would ruin the photos. The idea of ruining the photos kept crossing her mind over and over again.

Luke spent a good ten minutes complimenting her. His hands glided along her skin as he continuously praised her appearance. She always felt so beautiful with his words and his actions. But at this moment, she couldn’t think of one thing that could make her feel good. 

Luke pulled up to the house, parking his car. Instantly, he shifted his gaze towards her. “Ready to go, pretty girl?” he asked as he scanned her features. She kept her gaze low on her lap. Nervously, she was spinning the bracelet that Luke gave her after their one year anniversary. Her eyebrows furrowed harshly as she took a deep breath. 

“Baby?” he let out softly as he reached over and took a hold of her chin and turned her head to meet her gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. Delicately, he glided his thumb along her jawline as he scanned her features. Her eyes widened slightly as her bottom lip fell into a small pout for only a second.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she mumbled. Luke nodded slightly before he leaned towards her and kissed her softly. 

“Okay,” he muttered as he leaned back and began to climb out of the car. Reluctantly, she followed in pursuit as she climbed out of the car. She slammed the door shut as she nervously ran her hands along the sides of her flowy dress. She stared towards her reflection in the car window.

She took a deep breath while she took small steps around the car to meet up with Luke on the other side of the car. He tilted his head to the side while he held his hand out towards her. A small smile formed to her lips as she interlocked their hands together. 

“Come on, beauty,” he offered as he was beginning to nearly drag her towards the front door. 

Based on the amount of cars in front of the giant house, the entire team was already there. Even though they thought they were early. Luke ran his thumb over the top of her hand as he guided her towards the door.

Once they reached the front door, Luke knocked briefly before he pushed the door open. He dragged her inside as the entire living room erupted in cheers. 

“Lukey!” Jack shouted from the other side of the living room. 

“Rusty and Mrs. Rusty, how are you guys?” Curtis shouted as he and Reanne walked towards the pair, greeting them right at the door. Y/N and Reanne hugged briefly as Luke and Curtis dapped each other up. Her smiled faltered slightly as she looked over towards the group of women sitting together at one of the tables that were set up.

“We’re good, thanks for hosting,” Luke said as he met Curtis’s gaze. 

“Of course, we’ve got drinks in the fridge in the garage, food is in the kitchen, and the whole main level and basement is free reign.” Curtis explained while pointing in random directions. She took a deep breath as she wrapped her arm around Luke’s, inching closer to him.

Glancing down towards her, he guides her deeper inside. “Thanks man,” Luke uttered as the small group walked towards the kitchen area. “Do you want to eat something first or grab some drinks?” he asked quietly.

“Drinks are fine with me,” she mumbled. 

“Yes ma��am,” He nodded as they continued deeper through the house towards the back door that would eventually lead them to the garage. Luke and Y/N stopped and talked to some of his teammates on the way out. She didn’t say much, more of a small smile and hello before Luke continued to guide her through the crowd. 

They stepped outside and saw a few of his teammates standing in a circle and talking. Jack was telling a long winded story about something that happened over the summer. Luke waved towards them before he walked towards the door that led to the garage.

“Baby,” Luke muttered as he opened the door and guided themselves inside. They were alone inside of the garage. She hummed as she made her way towards the fridge. Slowly, she pulled the door open to look at the variety of options that were inside. “You’re oddly quiet today, what’s going on?”

“Oh nothing, just still getting used to everyone,” she explained as she took a hold of a Coors Light and held it behind her for Luke to take. He gladly accepted the drink as she reached inside and took a hold of a White Claw. Slowly, she shut the fridge door and spun on her heel to face him.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly. She nodded as she walked closer to him. He stood still keeping eye contact with her. He could feel his cheeks heating up the longer he looked into her eyes. She nodded again as the corner of her lips curled up as she saw his eyes light up while looking towards her.

“I know what could relax me a little bit,” she offered as she took another step towards him.

“What’s that?” he asked as his gaze dipped towards her lips.

“Maybe a kiss,” she offered. 

A wide grin formed on his lips, “Oh I can definitely help with that,” he expressed as he took an instant hold of the base of her neck. Quickly, he pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently. A soft giggle fell from her lips as they kissed for a few seconds.

“Relaxed?” he asked against her lips. She shook her head slightly. He smirked before he pressed his lips against hers, parting their lips slightly to deepen the kiss. They stayed together like that a few more seconds before he reluctantly pulled back. 

“Much better,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, she hummed as a reply.

The pair exited the garage and made their way towards the house once more. Luke had one thing in mind as he was making his way into the house. He was starving and he was going to drag his girl along with him in the process.

He held his hand out towards her as he walked up the small steps towards the house. Delicately, she rested her hand into his as he continued to guide her inside. Luke’s eyes danced around the group of people as they continued to glide through the crowd. 

Y/N reluctantly pulled her hand back from Luke’s. “I’m going to find Reanne,” she offered. Luke met her gaze for a second. He looked over her features for a second before he nodded. 

Her eyes landed on Reanne who was standing in the group full of the other partners of the players. She took a deep breath as she walked towards them. Reanne smiled widely towards her.

“Y/N, hey,” Reanne said, glancing towards the other girls. One of them straightened her posture, bringing her drink towrads her lips. 

“Hi guys, you all look so pretty,” she offered towards them. They smiled softly but they all walked away from them two. Y/N clenched her jaw as she looked over towards Reanne. “Did I do something?” she asked quietly. 

Reanne rolled her eyes while shaking her head, “No, they just have this idea–” 

“That a professional athlete should be dating someone tiny, right?” Y/N interrupted while looking over to Luke. He was happily putting food onto his plate and making a tiny pyramid. She clenched her jaw while he looked up towards her. He pointed to her and down towards his plate; asking if she wanted one. She shook her head. He pouted before he continued adding food to his plate.

“You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress and screw being tiny, you’re hot,” Reanne expressed while maintaining eye contact. Y/N let out a nervous laugh while rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I just wish they could at least have a conversation with me and not walk away after a few seconds,” she mumbled while she popped open the White Claw. She brought it towards her lips.

“Does Luke have any idea?”

“You mean Snoopy over there? He’s got no idea,” she expressed while letting out a small laugh. Luke was laughing with his brother as he was actively bringing a chicken tender to his mouth.

“Maybe talk to him about it,” Reanne offered.

“It’ll just create tension, I’ll get over it eventually. He doesn’t need to know,” she expressed while shaking her head slightly.

“Baby! You gotta come try this!” Luke shouted from across the living room. She lifted her head up, her eyes went wide as she met his gaze for a second. Her gaze shifted towards one of the girls who was whispering something to another one.

She nodded towards Luke before she looked back towards Reanne. “He’ll keep hollering at me, better go over there,” she offered while laughing. Reanne rolled her eyes playfully as Y/N began walking through the group of people towards Luke. 

“Baby, this is like the best chicken I’ve ever had,” he expressed as he held out a pice of it towards her. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“Lukey, I’m not hungry,” she said while laughing.

“But babe, I’m telling you,” he offered. She took a hesitant breath before she took it from his hands and took a bite. She nodded along with him. “Right, right?”

~~~

It was late and Luke was on his way back from a roadtrip with the team. She was trying to stay awake but it was past three in the morning and she was exhausted. She was lucky that she didn’t have work in the morning.

She was half asleep on his side of the bed, like how she did every roadtrip he was gone. It was a difficult one this time around. Ever since that party a few weeks back, her mind has been busy. 

She was subconciously eating a lot less and working out a lot more. Exercise was always something that she loved to do. She loved hot yoga classes and lifting. During the off season, her and Luke would work out together quite often. She was healthy. But she wasn’t fully sure why she was so full all of a sudden. It was odd. 

Luke walked into the bedroom, quietly as he could. He dragged the suitcase towards his closet and kept it there. He smiled softly as he saw her laying on his side of the bed. He’s only saw her like this a few times in the past, taking note of how she only lays on that side when he’s gone. 

He took a deep breath as he walked towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. He needed to get the smell of the plane off of his body. Y/N also hated when he laid in bed after coming straight from the airport. 

Walking into the bathroom, he flipped the light switch on. His eyes landed on an at home scale near the bathtub in the corner of the bathroom. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly, he didn’t know they had one; let alone that Y/N used one. He leaned down and took a hold of it and walked towards the bathroom closet and quickly rested inside of it.

He shook it off, understanding that it probably means nothing. Without hesitation, he began to pull his clothes off to take a fast shower.

It didn’t take him long to finish his shower. He grabbed a pair of sweats that rested on his bathroom counter and slid them up his frame quickly. A sigh of relief left his lips as he quickly walked back out of the bathroom towards the bedroom. He smiled softly as his gaze landed on Y/N again. 

He smiled softly while he rounded around the bed. He kneeled down and reached towards her and brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. “Baby,” he whispered. She stirred slowly but remained asleep. Luke smiled widely as he leaned towards her, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Wake up, baby,” he mumbled while he continued to brush her hair behind her ear. 

Slowly, she squinted her eyes while taking in a deep breath. Her eyes flickered open as a small sleepy smile fell to her lips. “My boyfriend,” she mumbled. He smirked as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead once more. “Hi baby,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. 

“Hi beautiful,” he whispered. 

She reached towards him, resting her hand on the base of his neck. “I’ve missed you,” she mumbled while looking into his eyes. 

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he whispered as he leaned towards her, he kissed her delicately. “But move off my side–” he mumbled against her lips. She giggled as she rolled onto her back as her hand slid from his neck.

“Make me,” she muttered. A sudden laugh left his lips as he reached beneath her and tugged her closer to him. “Luke!” she let out through a laugh as he lifted her up in the air. “Luke Hughes!” she shouted through another laugh while she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“I’m just doing what you said, baby,” he whispered as their eyes connected, “You said make me,” he teased. 

She tossed her head back as he delicately rested her onto her side of the bed. Luke sat beside her and instantly took a hold of the side of her neck. He delicately glided his thumb down the center of her neck. She leaned her head back down to meet his gaze.

Their eyes connected as Luke’s cheeks began to pink up. He ran his thumb along her skin. The corner of her lips curled upward as he leaned towards her pressing his lips against hers delicately. She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back as she took a hold of his cheeks and pulled him towards her.

“Move off my side–” she teased.

“Oh shut up,” he mumbled against her lips as he climbed on top of her. Giggles both fell from their lips as he rested both of his hands beside her head. Her hands glided down his chest as he deepened the kiss as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She hummed against his lips while he slowly toyed with the strap of her tank top.

~~~

The following night they were both sitting on the couch watching the movie The Edge of Seventeen. She practically begged him to watch it, it’s been one of her favorites for a long time. Her legs were draped over his lap as he was delicately running his hands along her thighs absentmindedly. 

His eyes widened as the idea of a late night snack popped into his head. He couldn’t think of the last time they’ve gone out for a late night ice cream mission. He would never admit it to the training staff but there would be a lot of nights where him and Y/N would go out on late night walks and get ice cream or frozen yogurt.

He turned his gaze towards her, smiling softly as he looked over focused features. “Baby,” he let out in a hushed tone. She turned her head to the side, meeting his gaze. “I have an amazing idea,” he asked teasingly.

“Oh really?” she shot back laughing quietly before looking back towards the TV screen.

“Let’s go get some ice cream,” he expressed excitedly as he tapped his hands onto her thighs. 

He was expecting a wide smile but she barely reacted. “I don’t really have a taste for it tonight, I’m sorry baby, but you should go get some,” she offered without looking towards him. A frown fell to his lips as he scanned her features. 

“Since when do you not have a taste for ice cream, Darling,” he asked softly.

“Careful Lukey, you keep taking me to get ice cream you’ll end up with a fat girlfriend,” she said in a joking manner while rolling her eyes playfully. 

Luke didn’t find it funny, he didn’t care if she gained weight or if her body changed; he would love her no matter her appearance. He would find her sexy and stunning in every way possible. He didn’t know how to handle the situation. If he took it too seriously, she may react badly. And if he joked back, she may get hurt. 

“Okay, and?” He drew out the word. She let out a breathy laugh as she looked towards him.

“I’m just warning you,” she offered as she pulled her legs off of his lap as she sat up straight. 

“No need to warn me, I would have more to love, baby,” he said softly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she stood up from the couch with a soft laugh leaving her lips. Luke leaned back as he watched her movements very carefully. 

Slowly, she walked towards him. Carefully she climbed onto his lap. His eyes widened as he instantly rested his hands onto her hips. He squeezed her hips for a second as he looked deeply into her eyes. She rested her hands onto the base of his neck. She dragged her thumbs along the side of his neck. 

“You’re so cheesy,” she mumbled as she tilted her head to the side. 

He took a deep breath while clenching his jaw for a second. “Do you really think I would care about that stuff? I would be in love with you no matter how much you weigh, you know that right?” he offered as he slowly glided his hands along her frame.

She took a deep breath, “I know but I would want you to still find me attractive,” she offered, dropping her gaze towards their laps. His eyes widened as a scoff fell from his lips.

“I would find you so fucking sexy and beautiful no matter what, baby,” he offered while he raised his hand up and took a hold of her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes connected. She watched as he urgently scanned her features. “Where’s this coming from, my love?” he asked quietly.

She wanted to tell him the truth that some of the girls’ comments have made her self conscious and more insecure than normal; but she still didn’t want to start anything with them and the other players.

“I’m just having a rough week, that’s all,” she offered as she leaned down toward him and pressed her lips against his delicately.

“You know what fixes a rough week?” he questioned as he tilted his head back against the top of the couch.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Ice cream,” she answered for him. He nodded encouragingly as he fought off a wide smile by biting his bottom. “I thought dating a professional athlete would make me a healthier person,” she offered as she climbed off his lap and began walking towards the front door of the apartment.

Luke shot up from the couch, leaning down to take a hold of the TV remote and pausing the movie. Luke began following after her. “You picked the wrong athlete then, my love,” he teased as he jogged towards her.

 He reached towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back towards him. “You started dating a guy who’s nickname is Rusty, that’s on you,” he continued as he pressed his lips against her neck.

“That’s so right,” she teased back as she pulled away from his grasp. “How could I forget?” she continued while spinning around to meet his gaze.

“No idea,” he said sarcastically as he had a wide grin on his lips. “Let’s go,” he offered excitedly. 

“I don’t want a lot,” she pointed an accusatory finger towards him. He nodded encouragingly. 

“Whatever you want, Darling,”

~~~

Luke was home alone while she was gone at work and the comments she made yesterday were constantly circling his mind. He cooked her breakfast, just so he knew that she ate something during the day. 

He was sprailed out on the couch, staring towards the ceiling fan. His heart was slamming hard against his chest as he contemplated on doing something that could probably end up being dumb. 

He was not someone who liked to go to his mom for advice. He liked to be independent and rarely would seek advice from anyone for that matter. But something kept circling his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about what else could be going on with Y/N. He hated that she was even having thoughts like that. He needed to knwo if there was anything that he was doing to make her feel like that. 

Clenching his jaw, he pulled up his mom’s contact information and selected the call option. He brought the phone up to his ear as he stood up from the couch. He began to pace back and forth as he heard it ring and ring. 

It took a few too many rings in his opinion for her to answer the call but she answered. “Lukey! Sorry, I couldn't find my phone!” she explained through a small laugh. Luke smiled as he heard his mother’s voice.

“Hi Mom, how are you?” he asked, trying to get the pleasantries out of the way. He smiled as she explained how her week has been going. She talked about all the highs and lows, excited to hear her youngest son’s voice. Luke engaged in the conversation, genuinely listening to every detail. He would ask questions, excited to hear the stories of how her life is going.

“Anyways, son, how are you?” she asked excitedly. 

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Luke began as he stopped in the center of the living room, glancing towards the door; almost as if Y/N would interrupt the conversation.

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he clamped his mouth shut. He looked towards the ceiling. “I don’t even know how to bring it up,” he asked while shaking his head. “I’m worried about Y/N,” 

“Okay,” his mom said softly as he took another deep breath as his gaze landed on the photo collage that she put up on their wall. It was a collection of photos over the last few years of them. His favorite photo was a photo that Jack took of them while at dinner. It was a candid moment for them where they were smiling softly towards one another.

“She said something last night about me not finding her attractive anymore if she gains weight or something like that. I told her that I didn’t care about that and that I’d love her and find her beautiful no matter what but I don’t know if that made anything better for her. I don’t know if she was joking or if she actually feels that way or if I make her feel that way. She didn’t seem like she was mad or anything, she said it as if she was joking but I can’t stop thinking that she isn’t joking,”

His mother didn’t say anything at first, mostly processing everything that Luke was ranting out. She took in every single word he said and took a few seconds to process the information. She took a hesitant breath on her end of the phone as she took a few seconds to begin to reply.

“If you were making her feel that way she wouldn’t have even made the joke to begin with. She would blame you if you were making her feel that way,” she explained. “I think you just keep being you Lukey. You have to just make sure she feels loved and confident. You have to just keep making her feel good.” she explained.

“I thought I was doing that already, I didn’t realize that she was feeling like this at all,” 

“When did you notice that she was feeling off?” she questioned. He stopped short and looked towards the ceiling. 

“I guess–I only really noticed it last night. God, I’ve been an awful boyfriend,” he mumbled as he wandered towards the couch as he suddenly needed to sit down.

“You haven’t been awful, Luke. She might be really good at hiding her feelings.”

“I should still be able to know if she’s feeling like that, I should be able to see that she’s feeling bad,” Luke ran his hand through his hair.

“Try and find out what is making her feel like that, Lukey, it cannot hurt to ask her what is making her feel like this. I know that you are not the reason she is feeling not like herself. I know my son and I know that you love her with everything that you have. I believe that you can make this all better for her.” 

Luke didn’t say anything as he nodded slowly. He felt tears brim his eyes as he straightened his posture. He leaned back as he glanced towards the door, waiting for her to come home.

“Luke?” his mother offered.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her but what if she says it’s something that I’m doing?” he asked as his voice cracked slightly.

“Then you fix it because you love her,” she said urgently.

The door was pushed open and Y/N entered the apartment, she was keeping her gaze low. He cleared his throat as he stood up from the couch. “I am–I have to go, Mom. I love you an–and thank you,” he expressed before he hung up the phone. 

“Hey honey,” she mumbled as she rested a few bags onto the kitchen counter, “I got you a few things, I wasn’t sure if you would like them but I–” she stopped short as she met Luke’s gaze from across the apartment. He was awkwardly standing still as he rested his hands onto his hips. “Luke, you okay?” she asked with a breathy laugh leaving her lips.

“I found a scale in our bathroom the other day, but I thought we never had one. I didn’t question it but I think now that I should’ve.”

“Honey–”

“You made that joke yesterday but I don’t think that you were joking. I think something happened an–and you’re not talking to me about it. I don’t ever want you feeling worried about your appearance or who you are; because I think you are perfect in every way possible. I think you are the most amazing and most beautiful person I’ve ever met and it makes me feel horrible that you could think anything different for even a second,” 

As he spoke he continued to make his way towards her before he stopped talking he took a hold of her waist and met her gaze. He looked deeply into her eyes to make sure that she heard every word that he was saying. Tears began to brim her eyes as she nodded along to every word that he was saying.

“Luke,” she mumbled as she shook her head. 

“You are everything to me and I don’t ever want you feeling less than that,” he explained as he raised his hand up and took a hold of her cheek. He glided his thumb along her skin.

“Okay,” was all she was able to muster up while she reached towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her tightly against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. She squinted her eyes harshly as she rested her head against his shoulder. She didn’t reply at first as she ran her hand into Luke’s hair as she took in a deep breath. She never wanted him to find out. She never wanted to create anything, force any conversation with him and his teammates about their partners.

“One of the girls made a comment that I would ruin the pictures because I’m bigger than the rest of them. It got to me but I’ll get over it,” she explained as she pulled her head back. His eyes widened as his lips parted.

“Which girl?” Luke questioned, his heart slamming hard against his chest.

“Luke, it’s not important, I’ll get–”

“No it is because if they are making you feel like this I need to know who it is,” Luke expressed as he tightened his grip around her waist.

“I’m only telling you because it’ll suck for a while but I’ll be alright. There’s no need for you to create any problems with your teammates and the girls. I promise,” she explained as she dragged her hands across his shoulders.

“Well, I’m going to be looking at each girl and trying to figure out who could say such a dumb thing–”

“Luke, I’ll be okay,” she mumbled while forcing his gaze towards her.

“If we’re at a party, can you at least point her out so I don’t have to be nice to–”

“Lukey, you have to be nice–”

“I don’t have to be anything, she made you feel like shit, she doesn’t get nice,” he explained as he swayed her body back and forth subconsciously.

“You’re literally the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, you know that?” she said as she tilted her head to the side. He scanned her features for a few seconds before he leaned towards her and delicately pressed his lips against hers. She hummed into the kiss while pulling his head towards her.

“I love you so much, beautiful,” he mumbled against her lips as he leaned down to take a hold of her legs. She jumped up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Can I show you how much?” he mumbled again. She nodded encouragingly as a nervous giggle fell from her lips.

[deadghosy]

Can you do more Hazbin Hotel x enderman reader? I'm obsessed with it. I love the idea.

Credit to the person who made the art, this is just how I imagine Enderman!reader to look like as a human. 🦆✨

MORE HAZBIN HOTEL X ENDERMAN! READER IMAGINES/HEACANNONS

imagine how reader is when they get pissed…they would just straight up punching shit just like the Enderman hits you in Minecraft 😭

I Imagine Charlie trying to make you do a eye contest with Alastor only for you to start tweaking and punch Alastor into a wall as Alastor only gives up a thumbs up while you sweatdrop putting on your blindfold as you try to pull out Alastor from the wall

I headcannon reader to always pat everyone’s head when they are at their full height. But at 6’5 they just pat their back like “good job buddy😐✨”

Imagine Lucifer and you wearing matching shirts that say, “if lost return to big boy” as your shirt says “I lost big boy”

Headcannon that Angel is your cuddle buddy because he likes how your arm is basically a pillow for you. And husk is your second cuddle buddy because of his fur and you like to pet him.

I imagine Angel trying to make you wear pink only for it to turn black when it fits your body. Angel gave you a “🤨 are you fuckin serious?” Look as you just shrugged with a “😐” face. I mean shit, if it fits. It fits.

I headcannon Enderman!Reader’s suit to be like the art but instead of those black things on it. It’s just slight purple sparkles on it to represent the purple pixels around them.

But definitely their second fit is a black vest and a white dress shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes. 🤨☝🏾 W FIT YOU GOTTA ADMIT!

Yk how Angel made that Snapchat post about you and you got death threats? Yeah well Valentino was the reason as he got mad that Angel “wasn’t paying” you as you were just working on the hotel

I imagine Enderman! Reader to be black coded just like how the art is above as the reader’s hair is always in dreads, cornrows, and twists. But never in an Afro state as it takes time to get the hair nice and soft (coming from a black writer….it literally takes an hour…)

I imagine you once teleported during your cuddle session between husk and angel. They were so confused they even searched your room only to find out you teleported on the top roof of the hotel during your sleep.

I imagine Valentino at least trying to ambush you to see why Angel is so happy to come to the hotel to see you again. Only for you to teleport out of his view every second. And the moth dude is like “shit! He’s onto me…” but really you are just bored asf and need some fresh air from the hotel air.

I can see nifty just minding her business when you lifted her up and croaked softly petting her head and sitting her down.

I headcannon Enderman! Reader’s room to be built from those block in the end so reader can feel the presence of his home in the hotel💗🦆

I imagine Velvette actually getting able to like post you on her fashion account as a mysterious person with your blindfolded looks. The girls dig for guys who seem mysterious.

Imagine Lucifer and you making each other building hobbies, like he makes you build him a duck as he makes you a sleeping mask just incase you don’t want to stare at someone’s face without your blindfold.

Headcannon on how fat nuggets like to cuddle against reader’s legs as reader was making a bed for fat nuggets to have a heater installed if the pig is cold.

Like…bro IMAGINE READER BENG SO PISSED THEY SUMMON THE MOTHER OF ALL…THE GUARDIAN OF THE END…THE ENDER DRAGONNN (dun x3 dramatically) maybe they would summon that during the battle between the angels and absolutely destroy their asses

I headcannon Angel once seen your mouth glowing purple when you unhinged your jaw to screech. He definitely asked before checking out your mouth which he could see in the back was glowing.

Since I headcannon enderman! Reader is black coded. They have a bonnet that was shipped from Velvette as they put it on and felt more comfortable sleeping ‼️💗

Who would be the first one to respond to you calling them: Lucifer, Charlie, Angel dust, husk, nifty, Alastor. And specifically in that order 🦆

I headcannon for Vox to try to always have you on his night show so he can show off his new “guest” being a new specie of demons.

I imagine sinners asking what ring (7 deadly sins) you came from and you are just like. “The end….i came from the end..” and now they are more confused than you when they asked where you came from

I headcannon reader’s nickemame is like, “ENDY, tall one, handsome, [actual nickname], weirdo, cutie, dad, fucker, bestie.” You can imagine who called you who which is kinda obvious…

I imagine Adam to make a lot jokes about you saying how freaky you are and how weird you are for not liking eye contact without your blindfold as you just stand there like “what’s for dinner…😐”

I can see you showing the egg boiz a picture of a ender dragon egg making them think they can have someone like them but also just like you

I can see you just standing there as everyone argues in the court because Charlie wanted you there since you don’t seem like a demon or angel. She tried to get answers but no one knew what you were.

Imagine modern au! Angel dust and you do tiktoks….because Angel dust forced you to be in his tiktoks as the others just watch trying to enjoy their summer vacation

I can see Adam hating how you aren’t pressed about what he says about you as you just stand there ignoring him.

Imagine you being sick and everyone stopping to make sure you are okay. (except for Alastor as he knows you will be better soon) Like the whole crew just starts to baby you and try to fix things you can fix but only fail.

Imagine reader with a baby ender dragon as a pet as reader whistle for the dragon to land on their shoulder or appear more bigger for it to protect you and the crew

I headcannon reader’s singing voice to sound decent with a little bit of deepness in it to mask out some things.

I imagine your full form if you were a demon or angel obviously an ender dragon lol 🦆

Imagine Pentious just pure on slithering around your body as you just sit down after a rough day of complaining by residents and their rooms.

I headcannon Lucifer to get on your shoulders to feel bigger for fun which make it seem so cartoony as one has a derpy smile while the other has a thumbs up and a “😐” face just staring blankly into people’s soul

[papayainsectorone]

the wedding date

════════════════════════

summary: What started as a petty plan to get through a wedding spirals over one overheard insult, one punch, and one kiss too many.

content: 18+ !! smut, nsfw, fake date turned real, possessive behavior, jealousy, one-bed trope (sort of), playful tension, post-breakup vulnerability, teasing banter, protective Lando, emotional undercurrent, messy affection

word count: 4,1 k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

════════════════════════

You didn’t expect him to say yes.

It was one of those messages you type half-laughing, half-dreading the event you’re being guilted into. One of those “what if” jokes you fire off to avoid thinking about how awkward it’ll be to see your ex and his shiny new fiancée at a wedding where your name is penciled in with a plus-one you don’t have.

you free next weekend? feel like being my fake date to a wedding strictly for emotional support and judgmental stares

You didn’t expect a reply at all—not with the F1 schedule, not with the fact that he’s Lando Norris and probably has better things to do than crash a countryside wedding of people he’s never met, after all you´re not that good friends.

But then:

Sounds fun. What’s the dress code? And how fake are we talking?

You stared at your screen for a full minute, blinking.

Wait you’re serious?? It’s black tie. And we’re talking smug couple energy, minimum 7/10 believability.

I’m very convincing. Send me the date and time.

You’re insane. But okay.

You didn’t sleep much that night. Not because you were nervous. Just… overthinking. A little.

Okay. A lot.

You’re already regretting this when the day arrives. Not because of him—he's early (obnoxiously early), standing outside your flat in a tailored black suit like it’s the easiest thing in the world to look like that.

“You ready,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

You roll your eyes, smoothing your dress nervously. “Don’t start.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “I’m here purely for emotional support and judgmental stares.”

“Plus open bar,” you remind him.

“Obviously.”

The car ride is short, but it feels longer with the silence that fills all the places where your usual rhythm should be. You’ve known each for a while but now every laugh feels like a maybe. Every glance, a question.

When you reach the venue—a stone estate with fairy lights already glittering in the afternoon sun—you’re practically vibrating.

“Okay,” you say, straightening his lapel more for your nerves than his outfit. “Just remember: don’t look bored, don’t flirt with the bridesmaids, and please don’t make a scene if my ex says something smug.”

“No promises,” Lando says smoothly. “But I’ll try. For you.”

He offers you his arm, exaggerated like it’s a movie.

You take it.

The doors open.

Let the pretending begin.

The venue is ridiculous.

Gleaming marble, soft classical music, and rows of candles that make the whole place smell like wealth and vanilla. You tighten your grip on Lando’s arm as someone brushes past.

“You okay?” he murmurs, low enough that it stays just between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you say.

You’re not.

But you’re a little better when his fingers settle gently on the small of your back.

It’s a light touch. A fake boyfriend touch.

But your skin burns under it.

“Remind me who we’re avoiding again?” he asks as you both scan the growing crowd.

“Tall. Annoying. Can’t take accountability for his emotions,” you say.

“So, me in 2018,” Lando replies dryly.

You bark a laugh, almost against your will.

“God, I missed your ego.”

“Please. My ego never left. You’re just finally appreciating it.”

Before you can clap back, you hear your name.

You freeze.

Lando doesn’t.

He turns first, smile practiced and polite, as your ex approaches with his arm slung around the woman he definitely met before your breakup.

“Hey,” your ex says, like the last year didn’t happen.

Lando’s hand tightens just slightly on your waist. He’s still smiling. But now it has teeth.

“Hi,” you say, smile cool.

“And this is…?” the ex asks, gesturing vaguely to Lando.

You open your mouth, but Lando beats you to it.

“Lando,” he says, shaking his hand far too firmly. “Her date.”

The ex blinks.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Right,” the ex says eventually. “Didn’t know you two were… you know.”

Lando doesn’t look at you. “Yeah,” he says easily. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Your stomach twists. The words are casual. The delivery isn’t.

The ex nods, looking thrown off just enough to satisfy something in your chest. “Well… good to see you,” he mumbles before turning away with his Barbie girl.

You let out a slow breath.

“You okay?” Lando asks again, eyes flicking down to you.

You nod. “You’re scarily good at this.”

“Fake dating? Or putting assholes in their place?”

“Both.”

He winks. “Stick with me.”

The ceremony starts. You sit beside him, your dress brushing against his suit. Every now and then, your shoulders touch.

He leans in once to whisper something snarky about the vows and your laugh slips out too loud.

Someone turns to glare.

You don’t care.

Because for a second—it doesn’t feel fake at all.

It feels easy.

It feels like him.

And that’s the most dangerous part of all.

The ceremony fades into champagne, chatter, and soft golden lights strung across the garden. You’ve taken your hair down, Lando’s tie is undone, just a little. The music drifts warm and low as people move toward the dance floor.

You’re starting to enjoy yourself.

And then—

“…Honestly, surprised she managed to rope him in.”

The voice hits you sideways.

Familiar. Sharp. Arrogant.

You step instinctively closer to Lando. He’s already turned his head, tracking the sound near the drink table where your ex is talking to some mutuals. His tone is flippant, but the words cut.

“Like, Lando Norris? Isn’t he usually surrounded by supermodels or something? No offense, but she’s not exactly his—well, you know.”

Lando goes still beside you.

Your heart thumps uncomfortably.

You see it happen in his jaw—clenching tight. See it in the shift of his weight, the way his grip flexes at his side. You grab his sleeve before he storms over.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

But he looks at you, something sharper in his gaze now. And then—he smiles. Slow. Wicked.

“Oh, I’m not gonna argue,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna put on a show.”

Before you can stop him, he’s tugging you onto the dance floor.

“Lando—”

“Trust me.”

The music has shifted—jazzy, upbeat, a little ridiculous. You let out a breathy laugh as he spins you once, unnecessarily dramatic, then pulls you in by the waist. Too close. Way too close.

He dips you suddenly.

You shriek, then laugh. It’s impossible not to.

People start watching.

You twirl. He follows. You trip slightly, he catches you with that smug little smirk. You're laughing now—truly laughing—as he spins you again and the world blurs, and for a moment it doesn’t matter what your ex said, or what people think.

It’s just this.

You and Lando.

Putting on the kind of show no one can look away from.

Applause breaks out around you when the song ends. You’re both breathless, faces flushed. You lean into him, catching your breath.

“That was ridiculous,” you say, gasping.

“That was perfect,” he replies, smug.

Someone taps your arm.

An elderly couple, beaming.

“You two are wonderful,” the woman says sweetly. “When’s your turn to get married, hmm?”

You freeze. So does he.

“Oh—no, we’re not—”

“Not yet,” Lando cuts in, easy as anything, his hand still resting on your waist. “But we’re working on it.”

The old couple coos and walks away.

You stare at him.

“‘We’re working on it’?”

He shrugs, smiling like it didn’t just knock the breath out of your lungs.

“Gotta commit to the role, right?”

But his eyes linger a little too long on yours.

And suddenly, the line between pretending and something else is feeling paper thin.

Dinner is over, and the night has softened—lower lights, tipsy laughter, half-eaten cake melting under the fairy lights. You’re standing near a column wrapped in ivy when Lando leans toward you.

“Another drink?” he asks, voice low, fingers brushing yours.

“Please,” you say, smiling. “Surprise me.”

He nods once and disappears toward the bar.

You watch him go. Watch how comfortable he looks. Like he belongs. And, somehow, like he belongs with you.

You don’t notice the shadow until it’s too close.

Your ex is swaying slightly on his feet, half-drunk and riding a smug high. His tie is loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone like he thinks it’s charming.

He slides in beside Lando at the bar.

“Norris,” he says, slurring just enough to irritate. “Mate.”

Lando turns his head slowly. “That’s not my name for you, but go on.”

“I’ve been watching you two all night,” he says, grinning like he’s about to deliver a joke. “You’re not really dating her, are you?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, hand casually closing around the drink the bartender just set down. “Why?”

“It’s just…” he laughs, wet and mean. “Come on. She’s not really your type, right? I mean, she’s… fine. But let’s be honest—she’s under your level.”

Lando doesn't blink. His grip on the glass tightens, knuckles whitening.

“I get it, though,” your ex continues, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re probably just looking for an easy fu—”

Crack.

The sound rings out like a gunshot under the lights.

Your ex stumbles back, lip split open and leaking red, eyes wide with shock.

Lando doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

The entire bar falls quiet.

People turn. Whisper. You’re already moving toward them, heart in your throat, dress brushing your ankles.

You find Lando standing stiff, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to hold something down.

You look between the blood, the shocked faces, and him.

“What happened?” you whisper.

Lando doesn’t look at you right away.

He just shakes his hand once—like it stings—and says, voice quiet but cutting:

“He said one more word about you, and I was going to kill him.”

You blink.

Your ex is still reeling, still clutching his face, drunk and dazed. Someone pulls him away. You don’t look back.

You take Lando’s hand, gently, checking his knuckles.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, even though your voice is shaking.

“Yes, I did,” he says simply. “Because you’re not anyone’s joke. And especially not his.”

You swallow.

His eyes finally meet yours.

And for a second, it feels like the whole wedding disappears. Just you. Him. His split knuckles and the pounding in your chest.

“Come on,” you say finally, voice trembling. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

And he follows you—no hesitation.

You’re sitting on the low stone wall just beyond the garden, the muffled music from the party drifting into the night behind you. The sky is ink-dark above, stars blinking lazily overhead. Lando’s hand is in yours, still bruised and warm.

You brush your thumb over his knuckles again. He winces, then smiles.

“Well,” he says, breaking the silence with a lopsided grin, “your ex definitely deserved it.”

You laugh. “Okay, yes. But that wasn’t exactly in the package I booked when I asked you to be my fake date.”

“Oh?” he turns toward you, amused. “Which part wasn’t included—punching someone in the face, or making you look incredibly desirable at a wedding?”

You raise your eyebrows, biting a smile. “The punching. Although… I admit, it was kind of amazing to watch.”

He lets out a laugh, low and playful. “Alright, now I’m curious—what exactly was included in this package?”

You lean back slightly, head tilting. “Hmm… I think you already ticked all the boxes.”

“All of them?” he grins wider. “That’s impressive.”

You nod, pretending to think it over. “Yeah. Let’s see: arrived in a nice suit, made a grand entrance, stared at me like I hung the moon, defended my honor, danced like a rom-com lead, and somehow made my ex question all his life choices.”

Lando chuckles. “That does sound like the deluxe package.”

He leans in a little, eyes flicking to your lips. “But I think you’re forgetting one thing.”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper, heart skipping.

He lifts his hand, fingers brushing your cheek, then curling gently under your jaw. His thumb traces your skin like he’s memorizing it.

“I think the package you booked,” he says softly, lips inches from yours, “includes a kiss.”

You don’t even have time to answer before he closes the distance, pressing his mouth to yours.

And just like that, the whole world hushes.

The kiss is warm and sure, slow at first—like he’s savoring it. Like he’s been thinking about it for years. You melt into him, hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, heart thundering in your chest.

When you finally pull apart, you both stay close, breathless.

“You’re good at this,” you murmur, dazed.

He smirks. “Told you—it’s the deluxe package.”

You laugh again, heart full in a way it hasn’t been for a long time.

And this time, it feels like more than just pretending.

Your lips linger close, breath tangled with his, hearts racing but steady now—like they’ve found their rhythm together. He’s still holding your jaw, gently, like he’s afraid to let go too soon.

You smile, soft and teasing, your voice barely above a breath as you murmur against his mouth:

“So… what else is included in the deluxe package?”

He exhales a small laugh, forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. Just watches you like you’re something he dreamed into existence.

“Well,” he says eventually, lips brushing yours as he speaks, “I think it comes with late-night drives... me picking the worst songs and you screaming all the lyrics anyway.”

You chuckle. “Tempting.”

“There’s also compliments,” he adds, eyes flicking over your face. “Endless, sincere, possibly annoying. Especially about your smile. I’m obsessed with it, by the way.”

Your cheeks warm, but you don’t look away.

“And,” he continues, softer now, “someone who never lets you feel small again. Not ever.”

You don’t say anything for a second. You just look at him. Let it settle. Let it mean something.

You’re both still close, breath mingling, the night soft around you.

Lando brushes his thumb across your cheek again, gaze drinking you in like he’s trying to memorize the moment. You smile—hazily, lips tingling, heartbeat racing for all the right reasons.

Then you lean in, your voice low, teasing—but laced with something honest you wouldn’t say if you weren’t just a little tipsy.

“Does the deluxe package,” you whisper, your lips ghosting against his jaw, “include more than just kisses?”

He stills, just for a second.

Then he smiles, crooked and warm, eyes searching yours. “You really liked the kisses, huh?”

You nod, biting your lip. “I really liked the kisses. Might be the alcohol talking… but—”

“But?” he nudges, amused and breathless all at once.

You grin. “I wouldn’t mind… more.”

He chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to. God, I want to. But not when you’ll wake up tomorrow wondering if it was just the wine.”

You blink. “So… no?”

His thumb brushes gently across your cheek again, this time slower. His smile fades just slightly—still soft, but more serious now.

“I don’t want you to regret it,” he says, voice low. “You’re a little tipsy.”

You breathe out, steadying, eyes locked on his. There’s a pause, like something hanging in the air between you, and then—quietly, firmly—you lean in again.

“Not enough to regret it,” you whisper.

And then you kiss him.

This time, it’s different. There’s no teasing, no question. Just heat and certainty and years of everything finally rising to the surface. His hands find your waist as yours knot into the fabric at the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens. It’s heavy now—messy, hungry. You shift into him as his body moves with yours like muscle memory, like instinct.

His hand slides up your spine, slow and steady, anchoring you to him as your mouths move in sync, sighs slipping between kisses. You can feel his breath hitch when your fingers tangle in his curls.

And in that moment, there’s no wedding, no ex, no distance, no years lost.

Just this.

Just you.

Just him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours, chest heaving.

His hand finds your waist, grounding himself. “Do you… do you really want this?”

You nod—eager, breathless, no hesitation. “Yes.”

He closes his eyes for a beat, fighting the war between instinct and patience. Then he lets out a rough breath, jaw tightening. He gently pushes you back, just enough to put space between you—but his eyes never leave yours.

One hand drops to his pants, adjusting himself with a quiet hiss under his breath. “Give me a second,” he mutters, voice thick. “You’re driving me insane.”

You watch him, flushed and trembling slightly, lips parted. Every inch of you wants to erase the space between you again.

He opens the door backing into the house with you following, steps faltering like you’re both trying to keep it together but barely managing it.

You nearly trip over your shoes, catching yourself on the wall as he watches, clearly struggling to hold back a smirk and something more feral underneath.

“I haven’t thought this through,” he says, voice low, almost to himself.

You step closer, brushing past him purposefully, your hand grazing his as you pass. “Then stop thinking.”

That does it.

His hand grabs your wrist—gently but firmly—and he spins you around, lips crashing into yours again, heat flaring fast. It’s messy now, untamed, like the dam finally broke and neither of you are even trying to hold it back.

His hand fumbles behind him, blindly grabbing for the nearest door handle. It swings open with a creak, and he guides you inside without looking, mouths still locked, breathing hard.

It’s a lounge—dimly lit, quiet, empty—and it barely registers before he pulls you toward the couch. You don’t resist. You can’t.

He lowers you onto the cushions with a reverence that doesn’t match the hunger in his kiss, but it makes your chest ache. Like even now, even desperate and dizzy, he’s still careful with you.

He follows you down, body pressing over yours, forearms braced on either side of your head, never breaking the kiss. It deepens instantly—lips moving, tongues brushing, hands everywhere now. Yours sliding under the hem of his shirt, his slipping along the curve of your waist.

You can feel him—all of him—against you. No space. No questions.

Only this.

The weight of him, the heat, the way his fingers tremble slightly as they trail over your skin. The quiet groan he swallows when you shift your hips.

And still, the kiss never stops.

Not once.

It is endless—deep, slow, tasting. His tongue slides against yours like he’s trying to memorize it, like he’s finally allowing himself the thing he’s wanted for far too long.

Your hands find the hem of his dress shirt, working quickly at the buttons. It’s harder like this, him above you, chest to chest, your fingers trembling slightly but you get them undone one by one. He helps, sitting up just enough for you to push the fabric off his shoulders and let it fall behind him.

And God, he’s beautiful like this, flushed, slightly out of breath, chest rising and falling, eyes blown wide and focused entirely on you.

Then his hands move sliding down your thighs, pushing your dress up over your hips without finesse, just raw need. When you start to sit up to reach for your heels, he stops you.

“Leave them,” he murmurs, voice rough. “They’re staying on.”

You blink, surprised by the low heat in his tone—and how much it lights something up inside you.

He pushes the dress higher until it's bunched around your waist. His mouth finds your collarbone as he tugs your bra cups down, letting your breasts spill out. He pauses to look, to take you in and then his mouth is on you again, open and hot.

A whimper slips from your lips when his tongue circles your nipple, teasing before he sucks gently. His hand mirrors his mouth, kneading the other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak until you’re writhing under him.

He shifts lower, one hand trailing down your stomach, slipping beneath the edge of your panties. You’re already soaked. His fingers glide through the slickness before circling your clit with a slow, maddening pressure that makes your thighs tremble.

“Lando,” you breathe, hips lifting.

“I know,” he whispers against your chest. “I’ve got you.”

And he does.

He strokes you with just enough rhythm to keep you gasping, leaning back to watch your face. His other hand slips under your thigh, lifting it slightly—dragging your heel along his side as if he’s enjoying the scrape of it.

“Still think the heels were a good idea?” you gasp, teasing—barely.

His smirk is wicked. “The best.”

He pulls your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into you—slow at first, then deeper. You arch, gripping his bicep as he finds that perfect rhythm, curling inside you just right. When you clench around him, he groans low.

“God, you’re tight. So fucking wet.”

You can barely breathe, barely think, chasing the edge before he pulls away leaving you empty, whining.

Then he’s kneeling back, undoing his belt and pushing down his pants and boxers in one swift move. His cock is hard, flushed, and thick, already leaking.

You reach for him instinctively, but he catches your wrist, bringing your fingers to his mouth instead. He kisses your palm, then guides your hand down between your thighs.

“Hold yourself open for me.”

The request makes you shudder—but you do it. Legs spread, fingers pulling yourself apart as he settles between them, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“Holy fuck,” he growls. “Look at you.”

He pushes in slowly, and it burns in the best way, stretching you, filling you. You gasp, gripping the couch as he sinks in fully, eyes never leaving yours.

Once he’s there, buried to the hilt, he stills just for a moment, like he’s trying not to lose it already.

Then he moves.

Rhythmic, deep, hungry. Every thrust drives a moan from your lips. Your heels dig into his back as you wrap your legs around him, dragging him closer, harder.

“Fuck—you feel insane,” he pants.

You’re breathless, barely holding on, nails scratching down his back as he hits the spot again and again.

When your orgasm builds, it takes you over fast, sharp, electric, flooding your entire body as you cry out his name.

He keeps going, chasing his own high until he groans low, pressing deep inside and spilling into you with a stuttering breath.

Afterward, there’s only silence, your breathing, and the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears.

He rests his forehead against yours, still inside you, still catching his breath.

“That…” he murmurs, voice raw. “Might’ve ruined me for anything else.”

You’re still tangled in each other, your breath finally slowing, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, hair an absolute mess. Lando shifts to the side, arm draped over your waist, face buried against your shoulder like he’s not quite ready to move.

But eventually, reality creeps in—along with the faint, distant sound of voices and music—and you both start to laugh.

“We should probably… you know. Try to look like we didn’t just fuck on a couch in someone’s lounge,” you say, brushing your hair back with shaking fingers.

He groans but sits up, reaching for his shirt. “Yeah. Probably.”

You tug your dress down as best you can, smoothing the fabric over your hips. It’s a lost cause. The bodice is wrinkled, your bra is somewhere half-off, and when you glance down, there’s an unmistakable bruise blooming just above your breast.

“Shit,” you mutter, eyeing your reflection in the black screen of a mounted TV. “Do I look okay?”

He turns, mid-buttoning his shirt. His eyes flicker over you—still flushed, still glowing, dress askew, hair a little wild.

He grins. “You look unbelievably hot.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warming as you shove him playfully. “Be serious.”

“I am,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again, soft this time. “But yeah. Let’s get you home.”

The two of you slip out of the room—still too close, hands brushing, lips twitching with laughter. It’s reckless and warm and giddy. You’re halfway down the hall when Lando stiffens mid-step.

You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong—until he grabs your waist and spins you to him, crashing his mouth onto yours like he means it. It's hard and hungry, lips sliding over yours with just enough edge to steal your breath.

Your hands instinctively grab his shirt to stay upright.

When he finally pulls away, you blink up at him—dazed.

Then you hear it.

A throat clear. A scoff.

You glance over your shoulder and see him. Your ex. Standing a few steps away, another drink in hand, eyes locked on the two of you. His expression caught somewhere between shock, jealousy, and rage.

Lando’s arm stays firm around your waist, his smirk downright devilish now as he meets your ex’s eyes.

“Hey,” he says, voice smooth. “We were just leaving.”

He leans in again, presses one more kiss to your jaw—possessive, casual, final—and then guides you forward, past the frozen expression of the man who once thought he could toss you aside.

You bite your lip, hiding a grin as you let Lando lead you toward the door.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hi yes i saw hazbin requests were open??? Anything involving pining Lucifer. Or lucifer seeing reader dressed super nice for like a fancy party or something (full makeup, fancy revealing dress, that sorta thing) for the first time. Maybe feelings are revealed? I’m a sucker for pining

I love that we are all so disgustingly thirsty for this man. He deserves it ❤️‍🔥 but seriously tho…all my Lucifer posts have gotten at least 100 likes in the first day that they’re posted. Like damn yall, we need to talk about our husband more! We all have such good taste 😌 I love our little short king. Thanks for the request. Enjoyyyyyyy~

Notes: fem!reader, reader wears a dress in this one

TW: suggestive themes, hardcore pining, heavy making out

🪽The King of Pining🪽

This morning, Charlie invited everyone to the lobby of the hotel, shouting out that she had great news and a wonderful idea. Husk and Angel grumble about their annoyance with it being too early in the morning and them being way too sober for group activities right now as they plop down on one of the couches. The rest of the group files in, finding spots to relax as Charlie bounces up and down in her spot, bitting her lip and clenching her fists out of pure excitement. You follow along, deciding to stay standing and a bit behind the group, glancing back to see Lucifer coming to join the pack, standing just behind the couch that sat Vaggie and Nifty. You stare at him for a moment and when he finally glances your way, you offer him a sleepy smile and a quick wave of your hand. A small smirk finds its way to his lips as he nods his head at you, quickly looking away after.

“So…what’s the news?” Vaggie finally speaks up once everyone is settled and all eyes are on Charlie standing front and center. “Sooooooo, I had a brilliant idea that will be equally fun and beneficial to the hotel. Ready? Ready for it?” Charlie looks around the group, looking as if she might burst into flames of enthusiasm any moment now. “WE ARE GONNA HOST A BALL!!!”

Angel smirks as he nudges Husk beside him. “Heh, balls.” “She said ‘ball’, jackass. Singular.” Husk spits back, rolling his eyes as he scoots away from Angel a bit.

“It’ll attract new recruits for the hotel! We can mingle, talk about all we have to offer. AH! It’s gonna be soooooo funnnnnn.” Charlie is yelling now, she can’t control herself in the slightest.

Charlie goes into explaining the details- it is to be a huge party with a formal dress code that everyone and anyone is invited to. It’ll be here at the hotel, with an open bar (Husk wants to die) and music! The group lets out noises of mixed emotions, Nifty and Angel shouting out of excitement and anticipation while Husk and Alastor both let out noises of dread. You, on the other hand are nervous but looking forward to having a fun night and getting to know the hotel staff and residents better. As Charlie’s speech ends, the group begins to disperse and talk amongst themselves.

You watch as Charlie approaches Vaggie, shyly dropping to her knees in front of her on the couch so that they are eye level with each other. “Will you…be my date to the ball, Vags?” You can’t help but smile as you watch Vaggie laugh, her cheeks and nose slowly changing color. “Of course, you goofball. You’re my partner. There’s no one else I’d rather go with.” They share a long hug, a beautiful positive energy radiating off of them.

“They’re just adorable, aren’t they?” The low, charming voice that sounds right next to you causes you to flinch a bit, now turning to see the king of hell himself standing beside you. “Oh! Hey. Yeah. They are pretty cute. They make a great couple.” You look back to the two girls holding hands and giggling but Lucifer keeps his eyes on you, taking this opportunity while you’re distracted to examine all the little details of your face up close. Hopefully no one else catches sight of him in this moment of utter hopeless romanticism.

When he finally snaps out of it, he lets out a sigh before putting on his best smile, clearing his throat just to get your attention again. “Speaking of great couples~” And as soon as your eyes land on him again, your lips curved up ever so slightly, his courage quickly leaves him. Lucifer freezes for a moment, mouth going dry as he tried to find a way out of this. Say something you idiot.

“I-I ha! I uh…I wonder what other great couples we’ll see at this party. Maybe some of hell’s highest royalty?” Nervous chuckles just keep rolling from his lips and he’s really hoping you don’t notice the way his hands are shaking as they rest on his cane. One of his trembling hands comes to the collar of his shirt, lightly yanking it down as if that would help bring air back to his lungs, the air you’ve sucked out of him with one simple glance.

“Hm. Yeah. Maybe.” You reply plainly, looking back to Vaggie and Charlie and before you can converse with Lucifer any further, he’s walking off with his tail between his legs, eyes wild and full of doubt. “You’ll be there. You are the king of hell after all, I’m sure everyone will be too focused on you and Charlie to notice any other royals. Are you uhm…planning on going with anyone?” You ask, still watching the two girls near the couch. Your voice stops Lucifer in his tracks, making him pause for a moment as he listens. He turns slowly back to you, wearing a bashful smile as he tucks both his arms behind his back.

“No, actually. I hadn’t even thought of it.” He lies, watching as you finally pull your gaze from his daughter and relax it on him. He slowly saunters back your way, unable to control his wandering eyes. “And what about you? Do you have anyone in mind that you’d want to go with?” And now his nervousness is rubbing off on you, making your voice shake as you respond. “Me? No, no…I’ll probably just tag along with uh…”

As you look around the room, it seems all couples have already paired up. Vaggie and Charlie sat on the couch still, Charlie’s legs strewn over her girlfriend’s lap. Angel and Husk seemed to be having a bit of an argument over what they will wear together. Angel wants to wear all pink but Husk is like FUCK NO. Even Sir Pentious was trembling in front of Cherri, as he looked to he asking her out. Obviously, Alastor is bringing his shadow along. That’s kind of a date…right?

“Uhm I mean, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet someone there.” The pride that inflated Lucifer’s chest just seconds ago seems to suddenly be punctured and drained by your lack of acknowledgment to his flirty hints. He wants to ask you to be his so badly it’s making his chest hurt now. Not his for the night, not his during the party, his all the time, any time he needs you. As he opens his mouth to speak, he hesitates and then decides to let out a heavy sigh instead. “Well..I will see you there.” And with the tip of his head, he finally turned and left you standing alone in a herd of conversing couples.

~night of the party~

You figured there’s no harm in showing up fashionably late tonight. At least, that was your excuse for showing up late. In reality, you were fully ready before the ball even started but your legs were so weak and shaky, you couldn’t find the strength to get yourself out there. So instead, you’re sitting in your room, fully clad in your nicest dress along with some accessories, sunken into your plush bed as you try to steady your breathing. Maybe if I stay here long enough in this dress, I can just say I was there but not actually go…

A knock on your door has you straightening up in your spot, a warm surprised feeling lighting up your chest. “Come in.” You respond, wondering just who was coming to see you right now. You assumed it was Angel trying to get you to come out and start partying with him. To your surprise, the princess of hell pops her cheerful little face inside your room.

“(Y/N)! I was wondering when you’d be coming…out…there. Oh my gosh! You look so gorgeous EEEEE!” Charlie steps into your room now, her big yellow eyes shining with enthusiasm and hope as she fangirls over your getup. “Oh, thank you. You look stunning yourself.” Charlie watches your eyes fluttering all around the room, unable to focus. “Yeah…I’m coming. Just…feeling anxious I guess.” Taking a deep breath, you finally stand, straightening out your dress and checking your hair in a mirror quickly. “Oh stop it! You look flawless, (Y/N). Let’s go have some fun.” Charlie quickly links arms with you and drags you out to the lobby full of people, lights and music.

Within just a few minutes of joining the party, you find yourself looking around a sea of strangers all on your own. Seems the princess of hell has a line of guests wanting to meet and greet with her. Understandable, but you’re starting to get overwhelmed. You’re desperately looking for a familiar face, needing a buddy to help you feel included and secure. As you swim through sinners and other residents of hell, head turning side to side, you finally spot Lucifer after nearly an hour of wandering around alone.

Sure, His typical white suit is nice, very flattering on him. But, oh boy, did he look fantastic tonight, heavenly even. For this special occasion, Lucifer was dressed in a deep red suit with accents of white and no hat, instead sporting his pretty, slicked back blonde hair. You’re not quick to rush to him, I mean are you trying to look desperate and pathetic? No, just stay calm. But once again, you two share a glance from afar and give each other a small wave of the hand. Lucifer looks…pained. He looks like he might just collapse to his knees and start vomiting. His shift in body language causes your smile to drop, your expression shifting to one of concern as you mouth to him ‘you okay?’.

From Lucifer’s point of view, the room became silent, empty, dimly lit with you there at the center of it all under this glowing golden ray of light. You looked angelic, innocent and sweet, elegant but also nervous and out of place and adorable and fuck it, he can’t wait. He nearly pushes the sinner trying to talk to him aside, rushing to you as his brain became overloaded with ideas of what to say to you.

With each and every stride he takes, your cheeks flush deeper shades of red. With every step, his knees begin to feel more and more like jelly. Finally, he’s joined you in the spotlight, the rest of the party fading away before both of your eyes as you stand just inches apart. Now, it’s all wandering eyes and heavy breathing from both of you. Licking your lips first, you force words out to break this awful silence.

“Wow! Y-you clean up well. You look nice, Luci.” As your voice reaches his ears, his dream-like state abruptly ended. The room floods with loud music, chatty people and bright lights again. He seems to perk up at your compliments, feeling like a dog in heat as his eyes travel up and down your lovely outfit. You watch as his eyes finally leave your waist and come up to meet your own gaze.

“Holy hell. You look absolutely divine.” He scoffs quietly, wondering how an angel like you ended up down here. “Oh, Lucifer.” You swat a hand at him and you can feel your face burning up, sweat starting to form on your upper lip and forehead. “Stop it. You flatter me.”

Lucifer looked as if he might pass out, becoming more and more flustered the more you blush. Although, a pleased smirk graces his face because oh~ you like when he flirts with you, huh? It’s okay, he’s hella into you too.Together, you’re just a ticking time bomb of gushy feelings and sexual tension. He figures if he wants to have any chance of confessing his feelings to you tonight, his best option is to lead you out of the way and put a little distance between you two and the crowd. So, he reaches out and gently takes your hand, pulling you along to the now vacant bar with an extremely forced and up tight grin.

Husk is standing behind the counter, looking not as irritated as you’d thought he would tonight. Luci pulls out a stool for you, gesturing for you to sit before he does because he’s a gentleman and ladies always go first. “Hey. Whatcha want, doll?” Husk ask you first, giving you a wink after you answer. “And for you, sir?” He eyes Lucifer who shakes his head, politely refusing his offer. As Husk begins whipping up your drink, yet another tense silence falls between you two.

“Are you having a good time?” The blonde finally speaks up, side eyeing you. “Eh. I’m not a big party person. I’m not a fan of big crowds either so…not really.” At long last, your unhappy and disappointed attitude brings all of Lucifer’s courage and gall to his mouth. Now’s his chance. “Let’s get out of here then.” He blurts out as Husk slides your drink to you, the bartender giving you an awkward look. “What? But all these folks wanna meet you.” Once you look over to him, a devious smile makes its way to Lucifer’s thin lips as you take your first drink. “And? I’m the king of hell! I do as I please.��� He teases and now you’re both smiling brightly, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you push his arm playfully. “I love Charlie but I hate this party. Let me finish my drink first, yeah?”

Lucifer continues to side eye you and also scan over the entire room, checking out the scene as you sip on your drink. You can see his casual glances and the way he quickly diverts his attention as soon as you catch him staring. Now you’re the one feeling some bravery. You quickly and smoothly slip your hand into his, letting your thumb rub back and forth across his knuckles as you try to quickly suck down the rest of your drink.

The grip you have on each other grows stronger, tighter with each second that passes. You notice Lucifer bouncing his leg now, growing impatient and needy. As soon as a slurping noise comes from the straw at the bottom of your glass, Lucifer is trying to pull you up off your seat. He’s not worried about hiding his eagerness from you at this point, not when you’re looking like you do now and getting so blushy and shy at his flirtatious comments. He has to shoot his shot, he has to try. You’re the only person who’s made him feel young and love sick again after Lilith, he can’t afford to let you slip away too. That would crush him more than the weight of the embarrassment and discomfort he is feeling right now.

Lucifer leads you to the library, doubting anyone would be occupying it at the moment and he is correct. Finally, alone together, his hand in yours still, fingers interlocked. His big eyes, full of worry and second thoughts stare deep into yours as he gives himself a moment.

“Oh, my. Where do I even begin?” His other hand comes to yours, holding them both oh so delicately. “You…I’m so….” You nod, smiling to give him some encouragement to continue. “I want you so bad. I want to hold you, I just want to touch you already. I need to kiss you. (Y/N), I love you-“

You’re not sure what came over you but now your hands are exploring his blonde locks, your lips moving feverishly against his. Besides the faint, far away music playing, all you two could hear was each other’s soft gasps and the smacking of wet lips. At first, Lucifer was very engaged in the kiss but he was hesitant to touch you, unsure of where to put his hands. Like hell he wants to rest his claws on your hips or your butt, but he waits for you to give him the okay, his hands balled into fists and held up near his shoulders.

Finally letting him have his way, you guide his hands to your torso before breaking the kiss to whisper, “It’s okay, Luci. You can touch me.” It’s more of a whimper than a whisper but Lucifer isn’t complaining in the slightest. The tone of your voice and the feeling of finally touching your perfectly soft body had his eyes glowing bright red now.

Quickly and without warning, he crashes his lips back into yours sloppily, his long forked tongue gently gliding across your lip, giving the slightest bit of attention to your teeth. He would devour every bit of you right now if you only asked. He wished you would ask right now. He’d even beg for it…You happily let your mouth open more, inviting him in as his arms slowly stretch their way around you until he’s holding you tightly against him. Lucifer squeezes you tightly as he savors your taste for a moment, pulling a soft whine from you before loosening up.

With your eyes closed, you tried to just follow his lead and do your best at impressing and arousing him but he’s sort of doing the same. He hasn’t been with anyone like this in so long, he’s rusty as hell. So, yall are an absolute mess. After about a minute of wild making out and rapidly moving hands, you’ve found yourselves on the floor. The two of you sit up on your knees, holding onto each other as if your lives depend on it. Your hands held his cheeks so tenderly, pulling his face as close to your own as you possibly could.

Lucifer couldn’t help but smile against your mouth, a soft laugh leaving him as he remembers all those nights he dreamt of this exact situation- you looking beautiful and magnificent as always and him having the freedom to let his hands roam your darling figure. He’s been craving you, dreaming of you, wishing for you, praying for you. The laugh that escapes him results in you pulling back to get a look at him. And fuck was he gorgeous- hair a disheveled mess, the purple shadow on his eyelids smudged ever so slightly, his once impressive suit now wrinkled and shifted awkwardly on him, his lips still shiny from your saliva, his breathing loud and heavy and his smile just kept getting bigger, toothier.

“What are you laughing at?” Lucifer rests his forehead against yours, his eyes moving across your breathless, flushed face, just dying to know what’s on your mind now. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages, darling. More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire existence, I’ve wanted to be alone with you like this.” A breathy giggle leaves you, your hands shaking as they travel down from his face to his biceps.

“Oh really? Why don’t you stop telling me and…keep showing me?” You tease, your hands coming to rest on his puffed out chest. Your touch combined with your sweet flirting and breathy voice has all of his wings popping out momentarily. You can’t help but laugh at this, but Lucifer is all business right now. You told him to show you, and oh darling, he’s gonna teach you a whole lesson on how beautiful and ethereal you are to him…and he’s gonna teach you with only his hands and his mouth.

[theastrophysicistnextdoor]

The Ineffable Detective Agency presents: Decoding 1941 Hell – The Hidden Morse Messages

The Good Omens team never fails to surprise us: In the Hell scenes set in 1941, there are subtle beeps in the background that many might have missed: morse code messages! 

We took the time to decode these messages from about 5 minutes of the show – some parts are easy to identify, some parts are really hard due to overlying sounds or noises. 

We used the 5.1 audio and selected only the channel with the morse signals. Check out an easy snippet – which line is it? :)

Then, we applied high- and low-pass filters to emphasize the code’s pitch around 1360 Hz. Some of us have pretty sharp ears, some of us worked with the frequency spectra to mark short and long signals as well as pauses in between. 

Here is what we have heard or seen, together with some facts and thoughts on the lines. Let us know what you think!

S2E4 06:19 to 08:23 “Have a miserable eternity”

Here are the pieces we have successfully decoded: 

HAVE A DREADFUL ETERNITY

We are wondering why this is different to the text via loudspeaker as well as Furfur’s “have a miserable eternity”...

TOMMY’S A LEGEND

Do we know a Tommy?

1) There's the Welsh magician/comedian Tommy Cooper (his magical act specialized in magic tricks that appeared to fail), who was the inspiration for the red fez in the magic shop. Cooper died live on television suffering a heart attack. :(

2) There's also the lead character Tommy in Brigadoon, the plot of which feels seriously GO-coded. There is a magic village hidden outside time that only appears in Scotland once every 100 years and is connected to the rest of the world with a bridge, outsiders who find "clues about the village and its people that make no sense", and a plot about unlikely lovers who are separated (because one "can't just leave everything in the real world behind"), and an ending that reunites the lovers against all odds because of the strength of their love ("I told ye, if you love someone deeply enough, anything is possible ... even miracles.")

PAUL’S OUR MIXING HERO

Could that be the Re-Recording Mixer PAUL McFADDEN?

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION ABAN

The phrase "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" is a quote from Dante’s Inferno, Prelude to Hell, Canto III, Vestibule of Hell: Dante passes through the gate of Hell, which bears an inscription ending with the phrase "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate". So, the minisode is THE place where we get quotes from the two most famous literary accounts of Hell – with Furfur's quotation of Paradise Lost in the dressing room at the Windmill Theater: "In dubious battle on the Plains of Heaven". 

S2E4 09:16 to 10:09 “Processing the Nazis”

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION

S2E4 11:07 - 13:12: “The offer to return as Zombies”

These two minutes are very tricky: while in the first half it is ok-ish to identify the signals in the spectrum, the second half is overlaid by so much noise… – yes, we are calling the dialogues and sounds in hell noise now :D – that we chose a different approach. 

It looked as if the sequence starts from the beginning, so we compared both parts, and now we are quite sure that it is the same pattern. 

DO NOT LICK THE WALLS HEAVEN LOOKS DOWN ON YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE PATHETIC ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION DO NOT LICK THE WALLS HEAVEN LOOKS DOWN ON YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE PATHETIC ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE CHEER UP IT’S ONLY ETERNAL DAMNATION DO NOT LICK THE WALLS HEAVEN LO …

So those are the sections we are pretty certain we have correct. However, there is one section we are still unsure on - maybe you can help?

Back to S2E4 06:19 to 08:23

We have been fighting hard with the first six seconds, before “HAVE A DREADFUL ETERNITY” and we think it is:

SHE’S IN MA PHONE

Who are we talking about now?

Do you have any other ideas of what this could be? If it is “She’s in ma phone”, what does that mean? Or is the S just noise and it starts with an H? Or even with a B – BE’S IN MA PHONE?

So, what are your thoughts on all of these messages? Why go to the effort of putting morse code here? Is it a fun easter egg, or something more? And why say “dreadful eternity” in morse when the quote used in the show is “miserable eternity”? We have so many questions!

Spoiler: There is more code hidden throughout the series.  Let us know what you see or hear!

-... .    -.- .. -. -..    - ---    . .- -.-. ….    --- - …. . .-. 

An amazing joint effort with @noneorother, @kimberleyjean, @thebluestgreen, and @embracing-the-ineffable at the @ineffable-detective-agency (with the incredible @maufungi, @somehow-a-human, @lookingatacupoftea, @komorezuki, @havemyheartaziraphale, and @dunkthebiscuit)

See more of our posts, plus a collection of Clues and metas from all over the fandom, here.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two

☒ Summary: There was no time for doubt or guilt. It was now or never, and you had to play it smart if you wanted to be free, and you longed for that freedom more than anything.The thought of soon being in the comfort of Alastor’s arms, without any restrictions, kept you at bay. Within hours, you would be liberated.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, happy ending! silly lucifer, vox gets destroyed emotionally, lots of cursing and a light sugestive undertone, angsty and fluffy (a perfect combo) heavily yandere!vox coded, blushy alastor, husband alastor being the sweetest ever

☒ Word Count: 3,545

You awoke to an empty room after what transpired last night. Slowly, you rubbed the tiredness from your eyes. There was a note on your night table- you noticed it as you sat up. It was from Vox.

Sorry, I cannot be here when you wake, sweetheart. Val is being a pain in my ass. So, duty calls. I'll be up to check on you later. There's breakfast downstairs if you're hungry.  With love, Vox

The kinder he was to you, the more remorse you felt. 

Soon, all of this would be behind you, and that's what you had to remind yourself of. 

You took your time rolling out of bed this morning. You dreaded the day ahead of you. As you finished dressing yourself, you caught something in the corner of your eye. You spotted an envelope tucked under your closed window. The corners of the crimson letter lifted from the harsh breeze outside. You wasted no time snatching the tattered note, instantly recognizing the handwriting on the front.  

It was from Alastor.

My Dearest, Gather your prized possessions. I'll be here at midnight to bring you to your proper home- our home. Lucifer will nullify the contract you have with Vox moments after I retrieve you. So worry not, my dear. Within hours, you will be free.  Yours truly, Alastor P.S. Be sure to burn this after you've read it. 

You could hear your heartbeat as your hands shook, tossing the letter into your fireplace. The finish line was just out of reach. You could do this. You hastily began grabbing the belongings you've accumulated over the years, stuffing them into a bag Vox had gifted you for your birthday one year.

As you began gathering your things, the nostalgia kicked in. As did the guilt that sucker punched you right in the gut. 

Each item you stuffed into the tote brought back a pleasant memory. Your favorite tee that you wore to bed each night, for instance. 

You hadn't a clue how Vox even knew this piece of fabric was so meaningful to you. Nor how he obtained it to begin with. But, when Vox re-gifted it to you, you broke down. He seemed startled by your reaction, uttering apology after apology. Vox assumed his gesture did not go over well. But it was quite the contrary. This piece of home made you feel a little less alone in an unfamiliar place. You cried out a meek "Thank you." offering Vox a shaky smile as you wiped your tears away. 

You shoved all of those memories into the back of your mind. The same way you shoved your belongings into the tote. There was no time for doubt or guilt. It was now or never, and you had to play it smart if you wanted to be free— and you longed for that freedom more than anything.

The thought of soon being in the comfort of Alastor’s arms, without any restrictions, kept you at bay. You took a deep breath, slapping your cheeks a few times to snap yourself out of this stupor. Within hours, you would be free.

Vox had been so angry when Velvette called— disrupting his precious time watching you slumber. These moments were few and far between since you forbid him from installing cameras in your room. Vox grumbled to himself as he stood from the chair, ending the call with Velvette after receiving the news about "Needing to get the piss baby under control."

Slowly, he approached your sleeping frame, admiring you. The rise and fall of your chest. The pleasant expression decorating your beautiful features and the hardly noticeable tremble of your fingers at the hem of your favorite shirt.

It was a cute routine of yours. You tended to play with the stitching at the base of your sleep shirt before you nodded off each night. The sheets always slipped down your frame from how you tossed and turned, giving him a perfect view of your little habit.

Vox recorded this moment for his private use. He knew your self-soothing technique was the reason your shirt was so tattered. Vox put the pieces together ages ago. He never forgot the day he re-gifted you that flimsy old shirt.

When you started living here seven years ago, you arrived with nothing. Vox sensed your anxiety from your lack of familiarity. So he had a chauffeur take him to your and Alastor's newly desolate home. 

Vox rummaged through your personal belongings for a good while, to the lack of your knowledge. Inhaling your scent; which enshrouded your garments. One shirt, in particular, stood out to Vox. He noticed the wear and tear in the fabric, giving it so much character and conveying a story of its own. He assumed this tee was sentimental, so Vox took it. Hoping that a piece of home would put your mind at ease. He had also confiscated your perfume and other personal garments for himself. But you hardly needed to know that.

When Vox gave the shirt to you, your eyes filled with tears as you offered him a sweet little thank you. That stirred something deep within him. Something dark. Vox's obsession only doubled by the day after that, and for some reason, you were wholly oblivious.

Vox supposed that was the moment he knew his fixation with you was severe.

You took his kindness for weakness, Vox assumed. But little did you know, the love he had for you only made him all the more hostile. If he had you, Vox had no use for anything or anyone else. Plain and simple. You were all he desired— all he needed.

The memories you shared over the years replayed in Vox’s mind as he persisted in his daily tasks. He hoped you had read the note he left you by now, taking the liberty of treating yourself to some delicious breakfast. Vox had the personal chefs make your favorite this morning. He figured you needed a little pick me up after the harrowing night you endured.

His poor little sweetheart, maybe he should visit you earlier tonight. Any moment without you in it was far too long for Vox.

You paced around the ransacked room. The clock read a quarter to twelve. You were in the home stretch. Alastor would be here soon, as would Lucifer. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. 

"Sweetheart, may I come in?" 

Oh no, this was not according to plan.

Normally, Vox finished his work around two in the morning. He would visit you a couple of minutes after he finished up. But why was he early tonight? Did he possibly catch on to your antics?

"Ah! N-No! Not yet- I am indecent!" You sputtered out. Fuck, this was bad. Really bad. Vox was quiet for a moment before his voice boomed once more. 

"You sound- off. I'm coming in." You hurriedly tucked your packed-up bag under your bed, throwing on your robe to hide the outfit you had on. You prepared to take your leave, so your usual sleep attire was nowhere to be seen.

Fuck, Fuck- Fuck! He wasn't this stupid. Vox was going to see right through your bullshit. The trashed room was a dead giveaway. 

Vox barreled through the door, making a beeline to where you stood. "V-Vox! Wait-" His slender fingers cupped your cheeks, a look of worry glitching onto his features. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

He was too focused on you to notice the state of your room. A shaky breath escaped you as you forced a smile, bringing your hands up to your chest. You waved them in front of yourself. In an attempt to show him everything was alright. Which- it wasn't. 

"Nothing- Really! I'm okay, just a bit sleepy. Can we talk more tomorrow?" You forced a yawn. Placing your hands on his chest, an attempt to soothe his worries. Vox gave you a pointed look as he let out a sigh. His hands that cupped your cheeks traveled a little lower. The gentle caress down your neck and collarbones sent a chill up your spine. "Of course we can. Here, let me tuck you in." 

Panic flooded your senses as he tugged at the tie of your robe. "I-I'm cold! So I figured I'd sleep with this on tonight!" Your hands were trembling as you stopped him from undoing the knot. Vox looked more concerned than ever from your skittish display. "Sweetheart, you're trembling! Come, let's get you under the covers." 

All you could do was nod in agreement as Vox's hand wrapped around the small of your back. He guided you to the bed, and that's when he noticed something was off. "Sweetheart... where's your favorite blanket, and why is it not on your bed?" His voice was even but a pitch lower. You froze in place, not daring to peer up at him. "I took it to get washed! It was looking a little bleak." Your voice was shaky as you lied through your teeth.

Vox's grip on your frame tightened as he slithered his arm down to grasp your hip. His hold on you was bruising as his other hand came to clutch the opposite side of your waist. He swiftly turned you to face him, dipping low to get in your field of view. "Why the fuck are you lying to me?" 

Oh fuck, this was the end for you.

His eyes were glowing bright and swirling with anger. A frown was prominent on his monitor. "I'm not! I swear- stop! Vox- you're h-hurting me!" His grip only became more brutal as his face pushed closer to yours. Vox invaded your senses. You felt claustrophobic- trapped. "Lies, lies, and more lies! Utter one more from those sweet lips of yours, and you'll be sorry."

Tears brimmed at your waterline, threatening to spill. Sure, Vox's grip was painful- but more than anything, you were petrified. 

"I believe you are holding something that belongs to me!"

The radio static filled the room, as did an air of malice. Vox snapped his head toward your window- met with the sight of his age-old rival, Alastor. "How the fuck did you get in here? I have security cameras lining the entire building! Inside and out!" Vox's grip around your hips loosened from the pure shock of what was unraveling before him. You took the opportunity to slither out of his grasp, frantically running over to your husband. 

"Ha! Your sense of security is flawed! You'll have to try harder than that to keep me away next time, old pal!" Alastor laughed bitterly as you cowered behind him. You seized his waist from behind tightly, hands still trembling. "Although, there won't be a next time! Oh heavens no! Not after the way you put your hands on my wife." The radio crackle was more prominent as your husband's shadow tendrils outstretched toward Vox. 

Alastor restrained the pitiful man before him. You peeked over your husband's frame. Getting a glimpse of his murderous expression. His eyes were in the shape of radio dials as crimson blood spilled past his grinning lips. "You fucker! You should have stayed away! Have you forgotten that I own your sweet little wife?"

"Uhh... not for much longer! Uh oh! It looks like someone is late to the party, am I right, Malastor? Aha!" You jumped from the boisterous voice filling the room. Your head whipped over to where Lucifer himself, now stood at your husband's other side. The King of Hell nudged your husband with his elbow, looking for approval from his witty remark. 

"Malastor-?" You sounded dumbfounded before your husband cleared his throat. "Yes, yes indeed! Now, get on with it, little Luci! Time is ticking!" Alastor spat through gritted teeth, shooting Lucifer a warning glare. The short blonde man scoffed, muttering under his breath about how "He was taller where it counted most!" Lucifer approached an annoyed Vox. He thrashed against his constraints but to no avail. 

"What the fuck are you of all demons doing here?" Vox spat, eyes swirling with murderous intent. He was beyond pissed, and it terrified you. Alastor could sense your anxiety and wrapped an arm around your waist. He pulled you snugly into his side, giving your hip a light squeeze. 

"Your old pal Malastor and I struck a deal! So no more wifey soul for you Mr. TV man!" Lucifer said in a sing-song voice. Without further ado; The King of Hell's horns poked past his golden hair. Wings fluttered out as a blue aura surrounded Vox. "No! You fucking can't- she's mine!" Vox shouted, tugging wickedly against his restraints. 

You watched in awe as the essence of your soul was extracted from Vox's chest. He let out a pained groan while Lucifer held out his palms, gently cradling your soul. A gasp was pulled from your lips as your collar and chain appeared around your neck. Lucifer turned toward you, offering you a wide grin as he approached. "Looks like ya dropped something!" The King of Hell joked, earning a warning glare from your husband as he brought your soul up to your chest. 

Gently, Lucifer overlapped his hands before pressing them into your diaphragm. You let out a breathless gasp as you felt your soul lodge itself into your chest. It felt foreign. You had been without it for ages now, so to be whole again was... liberating. With a snap of Lucifer's fingers, the azure collar around your neck fractured in half. It plunged to the floor along with the leash before it withered away.

The waterworks that threatened to spill past your lashline all this time finally slipped. Hot tears cascaded down your cheeks as you let out a small chuckle. "Thank you- both of you." You turned toward your husband. Alastor smiled brightly down at you as you brought your shaky hands up to wrap around his slender neck. You pulled his face low to meet yours halfway. Alastor took the hint, a small blush blanketing his cheeks as your lips meshed with his. 

The kiss was tender and loving. Alastor's large palms wasted no time cupping your face. He gently wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "I've dreamt of this moment countlessly over the years we spent apart, my dear," Alastor whispered against your lips, forehead flush to yours. Your heart pounded against your ribcage from his words. 

"Me too, Al. I can't believe this is happening right now." You giggled before Lucifer obnoxiously cleared his throat. Pulling you out of your sweet reunion with your husband. "This is lovely and all, but I upheld my side of the deal, Malastor! So you better do the same, or else I will fuck you!" Your mouth fell agape at the King of Hell's words. Alastor just tilted his head in confusion before you muttered, "Uh... I'm sure he meant to say fuck you up, my love."

"Yeah, that! Wait- what did I say?" You shook your head in disbelief as another laugh escaped you. Who would have thought the ruler of hell would be such a goofball? "Anyway, I'm gonna go! My job here is done!" With that, Lucifer took his leave out the window, humming a little tune to himself as his wings carried him through the night. 

Alastor clutched your hand, squeezing it firmly. "Come along, my dear! It's about time you returned to your rightful home!" You nodded in agreement, releasing his hand to retrieve the bag you stashed under your bed. Suddenly, Vox's hand slipped free from Alastor's shadow tendrils. He wrapped his slender fingers around your ankle, pulling a frightened yelp from you. "After everything I've done for you... this is how you repay me?"

Vox's voice was low, wavering slightly. You could feel his glare on you. But you didn't dare to look his way. "Let go of me! I don't owe you anything, and you no longer own me. So give it up." You spat. Alastor's tendril twisted around Vox's arm, yanking it away from your ankle. The pitiful man winced as you took this opportunity to grab your things and get the fuck out of this hell hole. 

"You'll come to regret this, sweetheart! You're mine, soul or no soul! And if I can't have you... no one can. Do you hear me?" Vox shouted at the top of his lungs as you took your husband's hand. Not daring to look back at the man you spent the last seven years chained to. "See, that's where you are wrong, chap! My darling wife was never yours to claim! Ha! How pathetic you are. Thank you for quite the pitful display!"

Alastor chuckled darkly as he took your bag for you, hoisting it over his shoulder. Without another word, Alastor's shadows surrounded you both. Taking you to a better place. The last you heard before you disappeared was Vox screaming your name along with the pitful cries of "I love you!" You felt a twinge of remorse for him, but it was fleeting.

The new scenery before you was bright and colorful. "Guys! They're back!" A cheery voice shouted. The Princess of Hell pulled you and your husband into a bear hug. "Oh, I just knew you could do it Alastor! I'm so happy that your wife is now a part of our found family!" You smiled at her words, glancing over to a rather stiff Alastor. You chuckled from his posture before another voice grabbed your attention. 

"You two definitely make a cute couple! Who knew Mister Fancy Talk Creepy Voice had game? Kudos, man!" The feminine spider demon approached you before one of his hands took yours. "The name's Angel Dust! A pleasure to properly meet ya toots!" He bounced your hand lazily before shooting you a playful wink. You returned the kind gesture, introducing yourself with a smile. 

"That's a pretty name. I'm Vaggie, and it's good to have you here." The petite woman gave you a small smile and a nod from where she now stood beside Charlie. You muttered a thank you before Alastor swept you up into his arms. You let out a small yelp as your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders. 

"Alright, the meet and greet is over! My dearest and I have some lost time to make up for!" Alastor's grin never faltered as he shuffled out of the foyer and up the steps. You heard a loud whistle coming from Angel and a shout of "Don't break the bed!" from Vaggie. Which caused embarrassment to course through your veins. 

You giggled as your husband ushered you into his bedroom. Kicking the door closed with his hoof before placing you down gently. You kept your arms secured around his shoulders as you buried your face into Alastor's chest. You breathed in his scent. Something so nostalgic yet ever-present. Alastor hummed your wedding song into your hair as his hands tapped along to the tune against your waist. "Let's dance, my darling!" 

Alastor lifted you slightly, allowing the balls of your feet to rest on the tops of his hooves. You giggled as he began taking broad steps, twirling you around the large room. "Do you remember our wedding, dearest? Our first dance was nearly ravaged by a drunken Mimzy! Ha!" You shook your head at the memory. Husk had cut her off for the night- and let's just say the rowdy woman didn't take that too well. "How could I forget! Husker's tail tripled in size- and Mimzy uttered curses I had never even heard before!" 

You both laughed at the memory as Alastor slowed his roll. Gazing down at you with unadulterated love swirling within his crimson eyes. His smile shrunk slightly as he brought a hand up to grasp your chin. "I truly apologize for disappearing all those years back without notice. It wasn't my decision, and if there's one thing I regret most in this world... It's making you feel like I willingly abandoned you." A frown decorated your husband's features. His eyebrows were knit in dismay.

You cooed at him, bringing your hands up to card through his two-toned locks. "It's behind us now, my love. Please, don't torture yourself anymore. I love you, and I couldn't be happier to be in your arms again!" Your gentle words tugged at his heartstrings. A small blush coated his cheeks as your fingernails grazed the base of his ears. "I love you more, my darling." The radio static in his voice was nowhere to be found. It was Alastor's true voice conveying his authentic feelings. 

You wasted no time pulling him down for a kiss, which he happily obliged to. Your lips molded perfectly against one another. You could hear your heartbeat as Alastor caressed your waist lovingly with one hand. His other hand remained at your chin, tilting your face slightly with his grip to deepen the kiss. For being a demon in hell, it sure felt like you were in heaven at this very moment. 

What was once lost was now found, and you couldn't be more thrilled to make up for lost time with your husband, Alastor.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Now that he finally has you alone in his office, Sunday decides to further his goals of dominion. wc: 2.3k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! sexual fantasy, piv penetration, office sex, desk sex, softdom!sunday, huge massive misogynistic hypocrite sunday a/n: The guillemets «» are used to indicate Sunday's Harmony powers this time!

part 6 (nsfw) / part 7 (nsfw)

---

You've broken out your old typeboard to compensate for having to sit in an office all day. Most people don't bother with typeboards anymore. Not when phones can record speech or pull up a keyboard on the screen, and not when typeboards are so.. noisy. The flurry of smooth metal buttons clacking like cold rain on a tin roof is a sound that makes the younger Oak Family interns anxious, but you enjoy the sound. When you can't hear the clicking of your shoes against the floor as you walk around, the sound of the typeboard is a decent enough substitute. 

Sunday has been watching you from his desk, reading over grievances relating to The Family's congregation. He couldn't care less about the complaints of some of these corrupt, selfish reprobates. Not when watching you cross your legs and stare harder into the screen of your typeboard is more entertaining. 

He wonders to himself: Do you even notice the way his eyes linger? How his watchful gaze sticks to you like dew on a fresh blade of grass? How the slightest smile forms at the corners of his lips from the way your trousers are just short enough to show a sliver of ankle, soft and bared? 

Should you have no reason or means to protest, Sunday would sit in front of you and remove your shoe himself, gloved hands starting at your short sock, ascending to cradle your ankle, then disappearing up and underneath the leg of your pants to stroke your calf, fingers running calmly over your flesh as the outline of his hands stretches the fabric of your trousers. He smiles as he ponders if that, too, is something you would never even consider from him. 

Sunday leans back in his chair, his legs spread slightly open. There’s no reason for him to be ashamed of anything, he surmises to himself. His handling of you has been modest, after all, compared to the filth of Penacony. He’s seen what avaricious, lustful men do when they feel they can exercise their will, and he hasn’t done anything of the sort. None of those men enact their will for the sake of responsibility. 

Sunday gets up from his chair, which only draws his attention to how tight his pants have become. Still, he’s sure you won’t notice when he asks you: “Dear, I’ve been looking for something Madam Ellis sent me, but I’m afraid it got itself lost in my desk. While I fetch myself some water, can you look for me?” As you get up to do so, Sunday goes to fill a small paper cup of water from the dispenser near the door. He takes a single sip, glances to see if you’re watching him, and quickly disposes of it, locking the door to his office and gripping the handle. 

« Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, may your hands seal this entrance and isolate this space, so not a sound may pass through. »

You bend at the hips to search through the drawers of Sunday’s desk. It’s a learned habit: Even with how long your pencil skirts often are, crouching while wearing one has always felt way too risky, especially for the secretary of a Family Head. Whether this was Sunday’s intention or not when he put them in the dress code, you suppose you can never be sure. 

There’s this dull throbbing you feel as you scan over every paper and file, felt in tandem with your heartbeat, that settles itself in your core. Even as you try to take your mind off of those odd moments with Sunday, the knowledge you gained from them is something you can’t shake, tucked snugly within your body with no plans of extricating itself. It’s… not exactly lust, you reason, but more so an anticipation or a dread. You can feel the anxiety pool between your thighs as your eyes scan blankly over words you’re no longer reading; Whatever you want to tell yourself the feeling is, it’s potent and it clouds your mind.

By the time Sunday is back and pinning you against his desk, you've forgotten why he told you to look through it entirely. —In all fairness, it was meant to be a trap.

"I don't think I thank you enough, [Y/N].” His voice is soft and gentle as he keeps one hand resting on your hip, the other snaking around to find the button of your pants. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you in my life, dear. I’m a much more fragile man than I present myself to be.” His eyes lock on the door at the end of the room. It would be entirely irresponsible to have left the door unlocked or even open, and Sunday wouldn’t dare take such a risk when a man like him had too much at stake. Still, his nostrils flare as he pictures what it would be like to fuck you in front of an audience. That Avgin scum especially. Perhaps the gambler deserved a demonstration of Sunday’s claim over you, both to send a message and to humble him. Damned wretch. 

You can feel his clothed cock poking against your backside even better now that Sunday has let your pants fall to your ankles. You stay put, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you switch between looking at the desk you’re pressed up against and the door in front of you. It would only be sensible to at least raise your concerns (even if making a scene was something you couldn’t bring yourself to do), but… that sense of anticipation building inside of you wants to be sated, even for a little bit. Even if your conscience disagrees.

Two of Sunday’s fingers breach you, and you flinch as they begin to move, stroking you from the inside. Just like before, Sunday lets out a groan, albeit softer and more controlled. You can’t see his face, but his eyes are now focused on where his knuckle ends and you begin, fluid dripping into his palm. Sunday is moved by the sight of it—by its beauty, and by the equal beauty of your mewling noises as he continues to finger you. As he moves closer to you, hips flush against his hand flush against your cunt, Sunday lets his other hand explore your bare legs, gloved fingers running over the soft flesh of your thigh.

“You don’t need to keep quiet, my love,” he reassures you, quickening the pace of his fingers. “I promise you, nobody can hear us right now. It’s just us.” Sunday takes a breath, and as he grazes your g-spot you nearly gasp with him. “I don’t ever mean to frighten you, you know. Sometimes, we simply have to be more forward when it comes to what is ours and what isn’t, yes?” Your brows furrow. What the fuck is he talking about? It would probably be easier to process his words if he hadn’t just slipped a third finger into your cunt, though, so all you can respond with to voice your confusion is a low moan.

“More than anything, I want you to be willing,” Sunday continues, maybe for no better reason than to hear the sound of his own voice over your cries of pleasure. “I want you to want this as much as I do, as often as I do. Only then can I be truly happy with myself. Do you understand that, my love?” You nod out of instinct, and Sunday takes it as his cue to finally free his erection. After cleaning the juices from his hand off on it, Sunday removes your panties, steadies your hips with his hand, and then penetrates.

Another mess of unintelligible noises leave your mouth from the feeling of him inside you. You’re too far gone to have reservations, so all you do is push your hips back into the feeling and grip the ledge of the desk. Your hair must be a mess by now, your face flushed and tear-pricked, your clothes wrinkled and wholly unpresentable—After all this work to get to the top through work alone, you should probably feel like this is an insult. Still, Sunday begins to thrust, and you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“[Y/N]! Mmh, Aeon— You’re divine,” Sunday gasps, his grip on your hips only tightening. “Oh, was this worth every minute of waiting! I’ve been so patient, darling, so incredibly patient.” As Sunday finds his pace, his hands begin to wander, the smooth cotton on his gloves running up and down your naked thighs and hips, gently kneading your flesh. In the safety of the closed-off room, he lets himself moan freely, gasping and crying out every time he feels himself bottom out inside you. Sunday flexes his abdominals to keep himself standing lest he falls over on top of you and loses himself in his own pleasure, the muscles in his stomach quivering and twisting. You’re sure that if you could see it, the sight wouldn’t be awful—Sunday has always been a very attractive man. Maybe his gaze softening into a semi-pained expression of ecstasy would enhance his beauty, if he didn’t have a pattern of fucking you from angles where you couldn’t see it.

Sunday reasons to himself that this instance is merely a fluke—An instance of your union (and of his rightful assumption of responsibility) that shall be the exception and not the norm. It’s the sin of haste that has him fucking you like a common whore, your cyprine rolling down your thighs and reaching your knees as his hips rhythmically collide with your ass. Regardless, it’s a sin that does not define him, and one he will not let define him: Any further instance will take the proper course and order, no doubt occurring in his room, on his bed, in the appropriate romantic fashion. 

Still, he finds he's getting close—In no doubt due to how perfect you are, how wonderful you feel around him. So, his thinking shifts: Who could blame him? Who could find this worth scorn? As you continue to suck him in further, further, greedily, he surmises that perhaps this act is no transgression. It is only the just thing to do, to give you what you so clearly and desperately need.

You hear Sunday ask you something, or maybe warn you, but you're too far gone to understand his words. The way his hands continue to run up and down your slick-soaked thighs has you paralyzed, and if you had any room to think between his thrusts your first thought would be to worry about whether the puddle of drool you've left on his desk has leaked onto any of his papers. You just let out another moan in response, another weak and mumbled "Sunday", and his own response is to start fucking you harder, effectively shutting out any chance of processing it. 

You can only make out bits of what he starts to whimper and mewl as his nails dig into your hips: "union", "perfect", "meant to be". A string of noises sounding awfully close to "I love you", too, amidst babblings sounding like your name. Sunday leans over, and you can feel his stomach press up against your back, his fingers prying your legs further apart. 

"The power you have over me is unthinkable, [Y/N]," he whispers in your ear. "You alone dominate every thought, every waking moment of mine." Sunday whimpers some more, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as it drowns out the squelching noises. "Please, you must understand. I need you as much as you need me. Nothing else can take precedence."

"Mmh, Aeons," you cry out, not really in response to his words more than in response to the way he's drilling into you. "Sunday, I'm-"

"Yes, yes I know," he coos back. "Don't hold back, please. You deserve this."

Sunday is barely able to even snake a hand down to attend to your clit before he feels you clench hard around him, your head thumping against the desk as the high of your orgasm overwhelms you. His hips start to move erratically, attempting to help you ride out that high, but soon it proves even too much for him to last through. Of course, you had given him permission to not 'pull out', so what issue could there be?

A wave of fatigue falls over you as reality sets back in, like a cold sobering splash of water to quell the summer heat. Your hair is a mess, you don't have anything on hand to fix your makeup, and your pants and underwear are likely ruined. As you shift in place, you can feel strewn papers underneath your stomach, all of them likely crumpled. You're not sure how much time was spent doing this that you could've spent working on sending emails or looking over reports. 

The anticipation has been satiated, and all that remains is an awful sense of dread.

Sunday plants a kiss on the shell of your ear and finally pulls himself out of you, even more cum and cyprine rolling down your legs. You're too exhausted to shut them to try and stop it. Sunday, too, is exhausted, given the fact that you feel him bend over to rest on top of you, his stomach once again flush with your back. 

"What excellent judgement I had in choosing you," he sighs dreamily. "You fit me like a glove—Quite literally, I've found." Sunday chuckles, and you feel his hands worm around your sides to wrap around you. "Thank you, [Y/N]. Geniunely."

The moment is interrupted by a phone call. Sunday gets off of you to pick it up, almost immediately discounting you. 

"Sister?" he asks, phone pressed up against his ear as he starts to redress himself. He fumbles through redoing his belt with one hand as he adds "No, I'm not busy at all. -Uhm, mind the noise, we're trying to rearrange my office. No, no, you're not bothering me at all, dear sister..."

Your head falls to meet the edge of the desk again. It will be at least half an hour before you get the motivation to move and look at yourself again.

---

a/n: someone teach this fuckass kfc bucket the concept of aftercare tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination @ikevampharem @hirwishin @jill7848 @breadlmao @belovedoftheanemoarchon @moongirl-1 @qualitysaladfarmstatesman @cupcake54492

[glowettee]

✧ ˚.The Ultimate Study Guide: How to Become a Top-Tier Student ✨📚

Hi besties! 💖 It’s Mindy here, your resident study buddy and glow-up guru at Glowettee. I wanna talk about how to become a top-tier student this upcoming year without losing your sanity—or your vibe. Imagine sipping on a latte, surrounded by pastel notes and cute stationery, feeling like the main character of your academic journey. That’s the energy we’re channeling today. Ready to take your study game from blah to iconic? Hopefully these tips could help prepare for the second semester!

1. Active Recall and Spaced Repetition Hacks

Okay, so here’s the deal: simply reading your notes is not the move. You’ve got to make your brain work a little harder to really soak in all that info.

Active recall: Write down questions from your notes and try answering them without looking. This forces your brain to actually retrieve the information (and helps you remember it longer!).

Spaced repetition: Spread out your study sessions instead of cramming. Use apps like Anki or Quizlet to create digital flashcards that you review over time. Bonus: Anki is super aesthetic if you customize the fonts and colors. 🌸

2. How to Make Study Sessions Feel Luxurious

Studying doesn’t have to feel like a chore, babe. Here’s how to romanticize the grind:

Set the mood: Light a candle, play soft lofi beats, and wear your coziest silk robe. (Yes, the fancy one.)

Aesthetic setup: Use pastel highlighters, cute pens, and a clean desk space. Your desk should feel like a Pinterest board come to life.

Snacks & drinks: Treat yourself to something yummy like matcha lattes or chocolate-covered almonds. A chic study session is fueled by snacks, trust me. 🍵

3. Step-by-Step Pomodoro Method Breakdown for Focus

Pomodoro is basically magic for productivity. Here’s how to do it:

Set a timer for 25 minutes and work on one task. (Pro tip: Choose something specific, like summarizing one chapter.)

Take a 5-minute break after each session. Stretch, grab a sip of water, or scroll Pinterest for inspo.

Repeat four times, then take a longer 20-30 minute break. Use this time to dance around your room or journal—it’s all about balance.

🦢 ✧ ˚.Why it works: Breaking your tasks into bite-sized chunks makes studying less overwhelming and way more manageable. Plus, the breaks keep you refreshed and motivated.🦢 ✧ ˚.

4. Best Apps for Studying

Bestie, your phone doesn’t have to be a distraction—it can be your ultimate study tool. Here are my faves:

Notion: Perfect for organizing your study schedule and creating dreamy, color-coded notes. You can even add cute icons and headers to make it so aesthetic. (SPOILER!! I'll be making some soon for you guys!!)

Quizlet: Great for flashcards and testing yourself on key terms. Bonus: You can use other people’s study sets if you’re short on time.

Anki: Ideal for mastering those tough subjects (hello, bio and chem!). The spaced repetition feature is a lifesaver for long-term retention.

Forest: Keeps you off your phone by growing virtual trees while you study. The guilt of killing your tree will keep you focused, I promise. 🌳

5. How to Romanticize School and Make It Fun

Here’s the tea: school doesn’t have to be boring. Treat every class like a stepping stone to your dream life.

Dress the part: Show up like the best-dressed main character. Think Blair Waldorf vibes but comfy—plaid skirts, cozy cardigans, and knee-high socks are always a win.

Curate your supplies: Invest in cute stationery, a pastel planner, and maybe even a monogrammed tote bag. If it feels luxurious, you’ll want to use it.

Celebrate small wins: Finished a chapter? Reward yourself with a TikTok break or a face mask. You deserve it.

Shift your mindset: Instead of dreading school, think of it as part of your glow-up. Every essay, test, or project is one step closer to the 🦢 ✧ ˚.elite🦢 ✧ ˚. version of you.

Final Thoughts

You’ve got this, babe. Becoming a top-tier student is about working smarter, not harder—and looking cute while doing it. Make your study sessions a vibe, stay consistent with these hacks, and watch your grades (and confidence) skyrocket. Remember: You’re not just studying for school; you’re building the foundation for your dream life. 💕

Let me know how you’re leveling up your study game in the comments or tags! And don’t forget to tag @glowettee if you post your aesthetic study setups—I’d love to see them. ✨

Xoxo, Mindy/Glowettee 🌸

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Prom Gone Wrong" p. hockstetter Oneshot

---------------->

“I’m not showing too much cleavage, am I?” I ask my friend Cassy, pulling up on the silky  red dress I was wearing to cover my breasts. It was prom day, the same day I was dreading since Ollie asked me to go with him.

Don’t get me wrong, going out in a beautiful dress was my dream since I was a little girl. It was just the fact that I didn’t want to go with Ollie. 

He wasn’t my type, and he was known for not actually dancing with girls at prom and taking them in a janitor’s closet to fuck them instead. He’s never piqued my interest, but since nobody else asked me to go, I accepted.

“Honey, you look gorgeous! Let those girls free, the world needs to see how hot you are.” Cassy said before throwing her head back and taking a shot, her favorite thing to do before a party. I nervously smiled at her and fixed my hair before leaving the bathroom.

“Yeah, I just don’t want that creepy English teacher to dress-code me.” I walked to my vanity and sat down on the stool, pulling out a tube of lipgloss from my purse and applying it to my lips.

Cassy shrugged and sat down on my bed, bending over to put her black heels on. “If he looks at you weirdly, I’ll beat his 62 year old ass.”

“Thanks, Cassy.” I roll my eyes and laugh, reaching forward on the vanity to open my jewelry box. When I did, a polaroid of me and an old friend fell out of it, and I picked it up and stared at it.

Me and him used to live in the same neighborhood before I had to move away, and we were the greatest of friends. Sure, he was a bit of an oddball, but it never deterred me from him. We grew apart, though, and went our separate ways throughout highschool. Now that we were both seniors and could attend the senior-only school dance, I had a small amount of hope that he’d ask me. I wasn’t sure why, but I just did. 

“All right. I think we’re ready.” Cassy stood up and smoothed out her dark green dress in my full length mirror, and shortly after putting the photo away I did as well. “Let’s go dance.”

–

The DJ was playing Again by Noah Cyrus when we arrived, and the lights in the cafeteria room were red. That seemed to be the theme as Cassy and I walked around trying to find our dates. It took a couple of minutes for her to find West, and she bid me goodbye while interlocking her arm with his.

It was well into the night and I couldn’t find Ollie, and I had accepted the fact that he probably stood me up for another girl. I was leaning against one of the tables that held fruit punch, and I downed the last drops of the drink in my cup before deciding to step away from the ear-damaging crowd.

Making my way out of the cafeteria, I sighed when I walked out of the doors and entered the empty hallway. The sound of all the others were muffled, and the only thing that you could hear were the soft tapping of my heels. 

Wandering aimlessly through the quiet highschool, I walked past one of the closets in a darker part of the building. A loud thump against the door and a couple of moans told me all I needed to know, and I scoffed at their lack of decency. 

“That’s it, take this big dick!” I stopped in my tracks when I recognized his voice. 

Ollie.

Now, I know I had tried to convince myself earlier in the night that he did in fact stand me up, but a part of myself also didn’t quite believe it. I had thought of multiple excuses he could’ve had, and even though this one had the biggest chance, it still hurt. 

Was I not good enough? Not pretty enough? I still would’ve turned him down if he asked for sex, but why didn’t he even try?

Spirals of thoughts turned and twisted in my head as I continued walking around the school, except this time I had a place I wanted to go. Me and my old friend used to hang around the place after hours when we were younger, and there was a girls bathroom that was supposed to get renovated decades ago. Of course, the school board never got around to it, so it was a good place to skip and hide away in. It was on the second floor of the school, directly above the cafeteria. 

A remix of 180 by Bastián and Glory Box by Portishead seeped into my ears as I opened the door, and it continued to echo around when it closed. It was a larger bathroom than the others, and I walked up to the mirror that took up half of the wall. There were scarce lights, so it was rather dim around the other areas of the room.

I looked at my face and touched up on any makeup that faded, and then took my hair out of the low bun it was in. I played around with my hair, and scratched at my head, softly moaning at the self-massage I was doing. 

I froze when I heard the door creak and close, and then I locked eyes with the intruder in the mirror.

“Patrick?” I muttered, spinning around to face him. He wore a black suit with a red undershirt and a black tie, and I made a small note that the same color matched my dress. His hair was slightly tousled, and a stranded curl rested on his forehead. 

We both took in the sight of each other before I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing here?” I tilted my head, staring into his green eyes. 

“‘Could ask you the same thing.” He stated simply and started a low stride towards me, his eyes roaming over my body once again. It made me feel bare, to be on such a display for him. I remembered how low chested my dress was and pulled it up nervously, and even in the dim lights I could see his smile.

Patrick had always towered over me in height, and he took advantage of it now while circling me. I folded my hands in front of me and played with fingers as he did, waiting for him to be done with his inspection. 

“Well, don’t you look pretty.” He stopped in front of me and grinned. It was obvious that I was nervous, even a blind person could see it. I hadn’t talked to him since middle school, and seeing him now intimidated me in a way. 

“‘Could say the same thing to you.” Shrugging, I turn around to look at myself in the mirror again.

Patrick huffed out a laugh and stepped behind me, placing his hands on my waist. Being so close to him made my breath hitch, but I couldn’t let him know. I pretended it didn’t affect me and pulled out my lip gloss, reapplying it to my lips. It was red and shimmery, which was one of the reasons I had chosen it out of the many others in my purse. The other reason was that I knew it was his favorite.

When we were in middle school, my mom had bought it for me for my birthday. Patrick and I were hanging out one day, and I had decided to put it on because I thought it was pretty. He of course noticed, and asked me a simple question that led him to be my first kiss.

“Can I try some on?” Patrick whispered in my ear, his thumb rubbing circles on my hip. I froze again, and put the applicator back in the tube. I locked eyes with him again in the mirror, and he kissed at the spot on my neck below my right ear. His soft but chapped lips caused goosebumps to run all over my body, and a warm feeling to form in my stomach. 

“Well?” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine, and I turned around and backed away from him. He stepped forward towards me, and the cycle repeated until my back hit the edge of one of the sinks. I swallowed down the lump in my throat that caused me to be silent, but before I could speak, he did instead.

“Jump.” It barely registered in my brain what he wanted me to do, but it clicked when his hands grabbed my waist and lifted me onto the sink. My legs wrapped around his hips, and my arms went around his neck. 

I didn’t think before I did, but before I knew it my lips were on his. It was sloppy, hungry, but it fit with how we felt. I grabbed at the hair on the base of his neck and he grabbed at the red fabric of my dress.

We didn’t pull away from each other, but probably for different reasons. I had a thing for Patrick since I’ve known him, and I didn’t want to pull away and have him disappear again.

I didn’t know why he was so frantic like me, though. Maybe he felt the same, or maybe it’s all a heat of the moment kind of thing. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it to end. 

Patrick’s hand moved slyly up and down my body, and mine stayed in his hair. I always liked how long it was, it matched his face shape well. And since he hated going to the barber, it worked out for the both of us. 

I whimpered when his fingers pinched my thighs, and finally pulled away to breathe while he smiled at my reaction. We both panted and looked at each other, eyes filled to the brim with lust. Patrick licked his swollen lips, tasting the flavor of the gloss.

“Cherry?” He asked with a toothy grin.

I nodded breathlessly, my mouth dryer than a desert. “Your favorite.” 

He hummed and pulled me in for another kiss, even more eager than the last. My hands left his hair and roamed down to undo his tie, and I cursed into the kiss when I couldn’t get the knot undone. Patrick snickered and reached his hands up to do it himself, my own hands cupping his face. 

When he took the tie off, he pulled my hands away and placed it in them. Confused as to why he was pulling away, I opened my mouth to ask, but stopped immediately.

He kneeled in front of me, mischief flooding his green eyes. Patrick grabbed my legs and spread them, and he kissed at my ankle. He continued his charade of leaving marks all over and up my left leg before switching to the right one.

His hands roamed behind me to pull me closer to the edge of the porcelain sink, and then they moved back down to the insides of my thighs.

They reached up for my underwear, and he didn’t even need to tell me to lift my hips. It was like an automatic response to his touch, one that I couldn’t help. He noticed as well, and swiftly pulled down the damp red fabric and threw it aside. 

“You’ve got quite the theme goin’, huh toots?” He laughed and placed a kiss on each of my knees. I ticked my tongue and lightly tapped his side with my red heel, urging him to hurry up.

“I like to match.” I lean back onto the sink and run my fingers through my hair, biting my lip as he shuffles closer to me. 

His eyes were trained on mine, and he lifted up my dress, disappearing under the silk. I gasped when he blew air on my groin, and threw my head back when I felt his tongue on me.

Patrick ate like a starved man eating his last meal, not even coming up to take a breath. His hands held my thighs apart so that they didn’t clamp around his head, and all that could be heard throughout the bathroom were my moans and the soft sound of music.

Panting and gasping when he sucked on just the right spot, my fingers went under my dress and tightened themselves around his hair. He groaned into my cunt, and that was what threw me over the edge.

“Patrick, I’m gonna-” He didn’t let me finish my sentence and his thumb on my clit, rubbing it in just the right way to make me scream his name.

He let me ride my high, slowing down a bit, but not stopping. I whined and tried to tug his head away, but he didn’t let up. Finally, after a couple of complaints, he pulled back, leaving a few last licks and standing up. 

His face was stained and shiny, and he wiped it away on his sleeve. Embarrassed, I looked away while he did. He took off his blazer, and grabbed my chin. He kissed me once again, and the warm feeling came back shortly. He grasped my hands in his and guided them towards his shirt, and I caught on. I unbuttoned it and he tossed it away from us, ignoring my grumbles of how dirty the floor probably is.

Patrick unbuckled his belt and let it drop, and then unbuttoned his pants. He pulled them down just enough to where he could let his cock out, and once again pulled me closer to him. Wrapping my legs around him and putting my face into his shoulder, he started to align himself with my entrance before I yelped,

“Condom! Use a condom.” I pulled away from his shoulder and looked at him, my concerned expression opposite of his unamused one. He rolled his eyes and started rocking himself against me, sliding in and out of my folds. 

I moaned loudly and grabbed his shoulder, covering my mouth with my other hand. Patrick smirked and went faster, a knowing look on his face.

“Still want a condom?” He asked, and I shook my head with doubt. 

Patrick was smug as he lined himself up again, and his lips caught my whine as he thrusted inside slowly. He kept going until he bottomed out all the way, and he cursed the whole time.

“Fuck. Ease up on me, dollface. You’re real fucking tight.” He groaned, and pulled out almost all the way. I whined and scratched at his back, and he rammed himself back in. The process repeated, and the bathroom was filled with moans and swears once again.

I could feel him twitch inside me, indicating that he was close. I had already come twice around him, and was crying at the overstimulation.

“Patrick, it’s too much.” I cried against his neck. 

“I know, fucking hell, I know. Just a little longer, you can do it. Just give me one more, baby.” He reached his hand down and thumbed at my clit, making me fall off the edge once again. The constriction around him made him moan loudly and pull out of me, leaving a mess all over my thighs. 

We sat there for a couple minutes, breathing in each other's air. I leaned my head back against the sink’s mirror and stared at him as he stepped away to pick up his tie, wiping away the white liquid on me with it. He tucked himself back into his pants, put his belt on, and the rest of his clothes. He threw the tie into the small, empty trashcan to the left of us and kissed me. 

Patrick didn’t pull away until we both couldn’t breathe, and then he stepped away from me, and walked to the door.

“Eleven PM tomorrow, here.” He opened the door and walked out.

Patrick left me alone with my thoughts, and I stayed sitting on the sink for a while longer. Thinking over my night and what he and I were now, I realized that we were still at the school dance, and that I had to find Cassy and drive her home.

[aemondsbabe]

Duty & Sacrifice | Claimant Pt 2

summary: your wedding to jace will happen whether you and aemond like it or not; even still, you know where you truly belong

pairing: dark!brother!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, threats against jace, jace slander do not come at me you were warned, blood purest aemond like he's voldemort coded idk he loves that valyrian o neg, breeding kink, fingering, unprotected sex, piv sex, biting, brief hand on neck, possessive aemond, obsessive aemond, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: big thank you to @rabbit-hearted for sending a request for more dark!aemond! i hope you enjoy!! dark aemond was a bit toned down in this one but he (and the reader) will be going unhinged psycho in part 3 uwu

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 here!

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“Oh, you look absolutely beautiful, Princess,” your lady’s maid coos over your shoulder while she finishes tying the laces at the back of your gown, eliciting a chorus of echoing hums and titters of agreement from the other women fluttering about your chambers. 

“Thank you, Kella,” you murmur, meeting her gaze in the mirror, your lips stretched into a thin, tight smile. Even in your periphery, the sight of the ivory dress makes your stomach turn and twist into barbarous knots and you quickly glance away. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that eats at your heart as you keep your eyes trained on the shelves beside the mirror, silently reciting the name of each book stacked on them over and over again, anything to keep your mind occupied. 

It only halfway works, just as it had every time before – every other time you stood in this exact same spot as the tailor measured and fitted your dress, as you discussed hairstyles with your maids, as you chose jewelry with your mother. Helaena had spent weeks, hours upon hours, sewing bead after bead into the alabaster fabric, creating intricate patterns of florals giving way to flames, and you could hardly bring yourself to look at it. 

If I don’t look, it’s not real. If I don’t look, it’s not real, the words, foolish as they were, echoed in your mind for the millionth time as your maids added final touches to your outfit – sliding your feet into shoes and clasping on various ornate jewels. 

“Should we finish the hair first or get the cloak on first?” You hear one of your lady’s maids ask another, somewhere off to the side. 

“Mm, I think the cloak,” another one answers; you can hear the doors of your wardrobe being pulled open, “Her tiara may get snagged otherwise.”

Glimmers of red from the small garnet gemstones decorating your gown create bloody splotches in your periphery as morning sunlight filters through your windows; your mind begins to wander again despite your best efforts and crimson quickly gives way to hues of sapphire. Absent-mindedly, you dig your nails into your cuticles as you recall that night. The events play out behind your eyes like they have time and time again in the weeks between then and now – the pin-pricked chill you’d felt from his gaze, the way his whispered promises made your heart ache with a confusing whirlwind of longing and dread, the way his hands had felt against your skin. The sound of your blood pumping wildly in your veins drowns out any other noise as his voice echoes in your head. 

“Prove your devotion to me, my Strong girl,” he had commanded, directing your attention to the hilt of his dagger. And you had, the memories of it make you shiver even now. 

You had.

But it didn’t matter because here you are, clad in an ivory gown that may as well be a death shroud for all the joy it brings you.

“Princess?” A little gasp falls from your lips as you’re hoisted out of your reverie and your eyes finally focus on Kella standing before you, matching cloak in hand. 

“My apologies,” you say, managing a little chuckle, “I’m not sure where my head was at.” 

“No trouble, Princess,” Kella smiles, waving a hand dismissively, “I’m sure you’re eager to get the day started, marrying a prince and all.”

“Eager, yes,” you sigh, forced smile falling flat the second she looks away. The back of your throat tightens when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and, for the umpteenth time today, you try desperately to ignore the urge to run – to sprint all the way to the Dragonpit, mount Silverwing, and go. Instead, you swallow down the sick feeling in your gut and compel yourself to be still as Kella drapes the cloak over your shoulders, the red silk underlining enveloping you in a sanguine veil. 

Just as she’s about to fasten it to the little ties at the shoulders of your gown, the doors to your chambers bang open, causing both of you to jump as your heads whip toward the sound of the noise. 

“Prince Aemond,” Kella says breathlessly, draping the cloak over an arm and curtsying politely. 

“Get out,” he murmurs lowly, violet eye not moving from yours as he stands at the doorway, arms tucked behind his back, “I wish to have a moment alone with my sister.” Your heart hammers so wildly that you’re amazed the sound of it doesn’t echo off the walls – that it doesn’t burst in your chest. 

You don’t miss the uncertain glances your maids give one another, though they ultimately nod their heads. A small chorus of, “Yes, your highness,” rises around you as they scurry from the room; Kella quickly drapes your cloak over the back of your vanity chair before leaving as well, the doors to your chambers closing behind her. 

Aemond quickly locks them, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips for a precious second as he does so, before turning to you. Your brows furrow as nervousness builds within you, nails digging into your cuticles as you desperately study the neutral expression on his face as he stalks toward you. 

“Don’t you look breathtaking, sweet sister,” his eye sweeps over your form as he speaks and you feel as if every ounce of air is pressed from your lungs when he gently grasps at your chin, angling your face up toward his when he comes to a stop before you. 

“How did you get in here?” You question, hating how feeble your voice sounds, how your heart slows the second he touches you. Your question is a valid one, though – your mother had taken great caution in the weeks following the night of your betrothal feast to keep you and your brother as separated as possible. 

He chuckles as he tilts your face to the side, exposing your neck. “Someone may have delivered an anonymous tip to Cole informing him of a supposed smallfolk revolt brewing in Flea Bottom,” you don’t miss the twitch of a victorious smile on his lips, “Of course, the Gold Cloaks had to attend to it – we wouldn’t want anything ruining such a… joyous day. Once they were gone, it was easy enough to slip from the Sept and make my way back here.”

“You’ve been planning,” his eye stays fixed on the ruby necklace clasped around your neck as you speak, though he hums in acknowledgement at your words. After another few seconds of heavy silence, you cannot help but huff and jerk your chin from his careful grip, “Did you come here to merely ogle at me or do you need something?”

“Mm,” he hums, narrowing his eye for just the barest of seconds, “There is something I need indeed, Strong girl.”

“Don’t call me that!” You snap, the little huff of laughter he gives only makes you more agitated. He turns his back to you and stalks over to your vanity; it’s only then that you see he’s holding a small box behind his back, “What is that?”

“Only a little wedding present,” Aemond drawls, violet eye meeting yours in the mirror as he runs his fingers over the soft ivory silk of your cloak; his nose twitches in disgust, the most subtle of movements that you’re sure only you are able to spot. 

“Can… can I see it?”

Another twitch of his lips, a little pulling at the corners, just enough for you to know he’s satisfied about something, makes your heart squeeze in your chest. Whatever game he’s playing at, whatever imaginary battle he’s thought up in his mind, he’s winning. 

Am I even fighting back? Do I want to?

Silently, he makes his way back over to you, each heavy step a nail in your proverbial coffin. He’s standing before you again, long hair spilling over the shoulders of his tunic like a pearlescent waterfall, held back from his face by two thin braids that join in the back. 

Finally, he opens the box, carefully sliding the lid off. Your lips part as you stare down at the contents, eyes as wide as the moon as it feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. 

“I had it made by the finest craftsman in the city,” he murmurs, eye gleaming with pride at your stunned reaction, “Do you like it, little one?”

“I… Aemond, I…,” you stammer, at a loss for words as you look over the necklace resting on a bed of soft cloth. Made from a breathtaking assortment of pearls, the attention to detail is immaculate; each milky white stone is threaded onto a fine silver chain, all leading to a gleaming deep blue sapphire in the center, framed by the figure of a small silver dragon. “I-It’s gorgeous, brother, I… thank you.”

“You deserve only the best,” he purrs, watching closely as you reach up and carefully run your fingers over the glittering stones, “Shall I put it on you?”

“I already have a neck –” You start, only for a loud gasp to rip itself from your throat as Aemond tears the ruby necklace from you, the delicate gold chains easily snapping and sending dozens of tiny rosy stones clattering to the floor. All you can do is gape at him, one hand grazing against the place on your neck where the necklace once sat. 

Meanwhile, your brother’s violet eye merely follows a few of the stones as they skid across the stone floors. “Pity,” he tuts, stalking around you like a lion would its prey before stopping behind you and meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Do you have any idea who that necklace bel–”

“I don’t give a shit about who it belonged to,” he hisses, reaching over your shoulder and grabbing your jaw, forcing your head to turn back enough to meet his heated stare, “All that matters is that you belong to me, not some sniveling fucking bastard who shall only bring you ruin.”

He stares at you for a second more as if trying to drive the point somehow further into your heart before finally releasing your chin, smirking at the little shiver that runs down your spine when he skims his fingers over your neck. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he delicately sweeps the hair away from the back of your neck before pressing a soft kiss there, only to trail more down the crook of your neck and shoulder; time seems to slow for a moment while you savor the feel of his lips against your skin and your chest tightens when he groans. 

He huffs when he straightens back up, like being apart from you, even if only by a few scant inches, is painful – a feeling you know all too well. Opening your eyes, you watch as he carefully clasps the sapphire necklace around your neck. The larger middle stone sits perfectly at the base of your neck, the rich blue hue sparkles beautifully against your skin. 

“Flawless,” he says lowly, gently kissing just below your ear before trailing his eye up to the floor-length mirror the two of you stand before, hands resting on your waist, “We look perfect together, don’t we, little one?”

Automatically, you nod your head, unable to separate your gaze from the mirror. He’s right, he always is. The two of you simply fit together – perfect compliments of the other. 

He smiles lazily over your shoulder and pulls you closer against him, relishing in the small gasp that leaves your lips as his length presses against you, already half-hard and wanting. “Yes, you and I were meant to be together,” he breathes, slowly pulling up the skirts of your gown, “You may be marrying that traitorous little cunt, but you’ll belong to me soon enough, sweet sister.”

Your brows furrow at that and you start to question him, ask what exactly he means, but before you can utter a word, a feeble, stuttering moan is wrenched from your lips instead. Aemond holds you steady, keeping one hand firmly around your waist, as the other fits itself between your thighs; you’re helpless to do much else than watch yourself fall apart in the mirror as his lithe fingers slip through your already drenched center.

A pleased hum reverberates against the side of your jaw as he presses soft kisses against your neck, ravenous eye glued to your chest as it rises and falls with sharp pants, your breasts heaving beneath the bodice of your wedding dress.

“Promise me you won’t let him touch you,” your brother growls, swirling his fingers around your already aching pearl with practiced ease, “Swear to me that I am the only one who will ever claim you, sweet girl.”

“A-Aemond, I…,” you gasp, already having to fight through the fog in your mind to remain upright, much less speak, “Brother, please!”

“Swear it!” He snarls, biting harshly at your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. 

“I promise, I promise!” You quickly concede, the truth willingly spilling from you. You did not want anyone else, you never had – your gaze had been firmly set on Aemond for as long as you could remember. Your heart had soared with hope when Aegon and Helaena’s betrothal was announced, only for those hopes to be squashed when you were all but promised to Jace not too long after Aemond’s eye had been taken – doomed to a marriage built on regrets. 

Your older brother had felt the same from an earlier age still, always doting on you, even as a child. He loves Helaena, yes, but his heart had only been yours. His screams still echo in your mind – the only time he’d ever raised his voice at your mother, when he’d stormed into her chambers as soon as Aegon had taunted him with news of the raven from Driftmark. 

But it was the same each time, excuses of repairing relations and making amends, commands for you and Aemond both to grow up – to make sacrifices for the realm. 

Was I ever more than a lamb raised for slaughter? That question has kept you up for more hours than you care to admit. Now, watching in the mirror as a man who is not your betrothed brings you to heel on the morning of a day you have mourned for years, the dam inside you finally bursts – you are tired of bowing to duty. 

“Aemond, please!” You gasp, nearly crying as the fog in your mind finally lifts, “Please, take me, please!”

He pauses at that, the fingers on your aching bud stopping as his eye flicks up to yours. His eye is studying, calculating while he looks over you — there is a terrible relief in being finally, truly seen. “Is that what you wish?” He hums, chuckling when you pant as his fingers circle your dripping entrance, “To be filled with me, little one?”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished the question, desperate whines spilling from you as he slips his hand from between your legs, only long enough to loosen the ties at the front of his trousers.

“I’ll breed this sweet cunt,” he grunts, the arm around your waist moving to hook securely around your chest while the other grabs at his length, positioning it at your entrance as you hold your skirts out of the way in a trembling grasp, “Give you a pure Valyrian babe, just as you deserve.”

All of the air is knocked from your lungs as he pushes into you, spearing you on his cock in one swift motion. Your fingers abandon your skirts to instead claw helplessly at the arm draped over your chest, knees nearly buckling as Aemond pauses long enough for you to adjust. 

“Gods!” You whimper as he sets a punishing pace from the outset, though the harsh thrusts feel like paradise after being deprived of his mere presence for so long. Your head droops forward as he snakes a hand around your hip to begin rubbing at your pearl yet again, lucid enough to know that the two of you are operating on borrowed time. 

“You have always been mine, all of you,” he gasps, watching as your bodies writhe together in the mirror. After a moment, he growls and grabs at your neck, forcing your head up until your eyes meet his. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praises, leaning forward to kiss and nip at your neck and shoulder, “You’re mine, you’re mine…”

You nod as best you can as he chants the words again and again like a prayer, pushing his length in and out of you in time with each one, until your mind is nothing but a cacophony of mine, mine, mine. 

“I-I’m, Gods, I’m – Aemond!” You all but sob, the knot in your stomach that had been pitifully winding itself for weeks finally about to unravel as your cunt tightens around him, his grunts and growls in response only pushing you further to the end. 

“Do it,” he commands, redoubling his efforts on your bud, his other hand scrambling frantically to grasp at your stomach, “Let go and I’ll breed you, I’ll give you a babe, our babe, little one. Let go for me, let go.”

His muttered command sends shivers down your spine and you’re powerless to do much else other than obey and your eyes squeeze shut and your lips part as a harsh, shuddering cry is knocked out of you; fire seems to ignite every cell within you as you pulse around his length. Your knees buckle when your high washes over you, Aemond’s grip around your waist the only thing keeping you upright. 

“Good girl, good girl,” he murmurs, the sound of his voice just barely cutting through the rush of blood in your ears. A handful of thrusts later and he stills against you, growling and squeezing you to within an inch of your life as he fills you, cock twitching. 

You both still for a moment, harsh pants filling your chambers as you catch your breath. You whine when Aemond finally pulls his softening length from you, though he shushes you sweetly before leading you to your vanity chair and sitting you down. 

“I don’t want to marry him,” you whisper suddenly, sniffling softly as tears sting the back of your eyes, “I don’t w-want to, Aemond, I –”

“Shh, shh,” he says softly, gently cupping your cheek and angling your face up toward his, “There’s nothing we can do to change today, as much as it pains me. Were it possible, I would gut him in the Sept and stake my claim to you then and there, Gods be damned, I –” 

He pauses, cutting himself off with a harsh sigh, “I will have you, I swear it. I will not fail again.” 

Were it any other time, the dark shadow that lingers behind his words would give you pause, would frighten you as they have before. 

Now, though, they settle over you like a warm blanket – there is a safety in this fear. Aemond, for all his faults, is nothing if not determined. 

Whatever surety had settled within you only an hour before is swiftly and sharply pushed from your mind as you exit the carriage and climb the many steps up to the doors of the Great Sept of Baelor, unsteady even with Aegon at your side. 

By the grace of the Gods, Aemond had managed to slip from your chambers, and supposedly from the Red Keep, unseen by all except your lady’s maids, and they had all been sworn to secrecy long ago. Once he had gone, they filed back in and had blessedly made no mention of the intrusion as they bustled about you yet again – quickly braiding your hair through the prongs of your tiara and securing your cloak to your shoulders. 

They knew better than to ask about the sapphire clasped around your neck, or about the mess of rubies on the floor.

Your eldest brother, however, had not been so forgiving; his dark eyes had narrowed the moment you were seated together in the carriage. “Today, sister? Really?” He had teased, a dangerous spark in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you had grumbled, clenching your legs together as you sat. 

“Hm,” he hummed, chuckling softly, “Maybe I’ll soon be mother’s favorite after all.”

“We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife,” the septon’s booming voice fills the Sept as you stand together with Jacaerys, your hands in his, “One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

You try your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his, to keep your lips crooked into a smile, but all you can focus on is the two stares practically searing your flesh. 

Alicent’s face swam in your vision, the way her cheeks had paled when she had caught sight of the jewelry clasped around your neck, at the guilty look in your eyes. You can feel hers boring into you now and you have no doubt her jaw is clenched, her fingers bloodied and raw. 

The other stare makes your skin prickle, much as it did on the night of your betrothal feast. You keep inwardly scolding yourself, again and again, as your eyes lock with Aemond’s every few seconds as he stands at the base of the steps to your side. 

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity,” the septon continues, gesturing to you and Jace, “Look upon one another and say the words.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” you recite together, all the while you desperately try to ignore the hollow, aching pit slowly opening itself in the very center of your chest.

“I am hers and she is mine,” Jace murmurs, dark gaze fixed solely on yours as he squeezes your hands, a terrible longing in his stare, “From this day, until the end of my days.”

“I am his and he is mine,” you say, each word feeling like a knife being twisted in your gut, “From this day until the end of my days.”

The septon gestures once more for the two of you to step closer together; it takes all of your restraint not to gasp when you feel a rivulet of Aemond’s spend leak down your thigh as you do. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Jace says softly. His warm hands cup your cheeks before he leans in but when your lips touch, all you see is sapphire.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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[soxcietyy]

Deal

18+ Yuta x reader

You had the unfortunate luck of being assigned a seat next to your school bully. You dreaded being near him but there was no objectifying the teacher. After being stuck with you during cleaning duty in the afternoon he offered you a preposition.

You sat quietly in class hopping that you would be able to sit next to Inumaki, Panda,Maki or someone normal. For some odd reason the teacher decided to rearrange seats in the middle of class. They did this every so often which gave you panic attacks. You crossed your fingers under your desk praying that a specific name didn’t come out his mouth.

"Y/n, you’ll be sitting next too Yuta."

Your heart sank once you heard those words come out their mouth. He was the last person you wanted to sit next to. Other people would have loved to be seated next to him. He was adored by so many people you knew. When you first got here you would hear girls gossiping about him all the time. He was this mysterious yet lovable guy. He was known to be smart, athletic, kind, funny and overall popular. When you finally got to meet him it felt like everything you were told was a lie.

You could tell he didn’t like you right of the bat. The smile he wore around his friends would disappear every time you approached him. He would make you bring him stuff, make you do his homework and treated you horribly. He would tease and make fun of you whenever he saw you.

Slowly you made your way to your seat. Maki giving you a look of pity. You sat down silently next to him not daring to look at him. As the teacher continued arranging other students seats you could feel his gaze on you. It felt like his eyes were engraving themselves onto you.

You palms began to sweat as you pretended no to notice him. If he figured out that you noticed him he would start talking to you. The more seconds that past the hotter you felt. Unfortunately you couldn’t take off a layer because you had forgotten to wash your uniform. So you had to wear your button up and skirt from middle school instead. Obviously you had grown quite a bit since then so it fit you tight enough for you to deem it a faja. Not wanting to get dress coded you had to hide it by using a thick wool cardigan.

Eventually it became so hot that you had no choice but to take your school’s cardigan off.

You quickly took it off and placed it on your lap. If you pretend he wasn’t there everything should be fine right? Or would he get angry because of it? Class continued for a bit longer until the teacher made everyone partner up with the person next to them. You could hear Yuta chuckle as he sat up from his seat.

"Y/n we’re partners, do you mind doing the work though? Not feeling it today." Yuta says.

He never was feeling it apparently because he always made someone do his work.

This couldn’t continue on any longer, you had to put your foot down and do something. You couldn’t graduate knowing that you never bothered fixing the situation. Turning around to look at him you firmly tell him no.

He was slumped in his seat with his head thrown back when you said this. He snapped up with a look of shock. At first you thought it was because of your response but then you caught his eyes looking at your chest.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He grabs you by the collar to get a better look at your shirt.

He couldn’t believe you were wearing something tight like this. Was it to impress a boy? To grab people’s attention or were you just a slut? He let out a laugh but when he did he tugged on your shirt a little bit too hard. Two buttons flew off your shirt one hitting the wall behind him and the other one falling on his hand. The both of you fell silent and stared at each other. Quickly you put your cardigan on to cover up but the V neck was so low you could still see everything.

Yutas face had turned pink as he looked at you in horror. He acted fast by taking his jacket off and throwing at you. "Cover up." He tells you annoyed.

You had no other choice but to accept it no matter how much you hate the idea of wearing his clothes. Zipping the jacket up you could feel how big it was on you. Yuta put his head down facing away from you. He was surely mad that he had to help someone like you out.

You let a big sigh out as you sank into your chair. Opening your laptop you began to start on the group work. Fortunately it was something very simple that could be done in no time. As you worked the teacher called you to his desk. He had a conversation about how Yuta needed to also do the work. You explained that he wasn’t feeling well and that you were fine doing it on your own.

It didn’t matter what you said because if he didn’t do it you would also get in trouble. Sitting back down into your new seat you slowly nudge him, "Yuta, you really need to participate in the work. Or at least pretend you’re doing something.

"…"

No response.

You both ended up having cleaning duty after school. You grit your teeth as you sweep the class while he watched you. This was all his fault, if he had done something you would have been here.

The school was empty other than people who stayed behind to clean or had some after school activity’s.

As you looked for a dust pan you could feel how the jacket would pull your body down. It was so big and heavy on you that it felt like a work out to wear it. Then again why were you still wearing it? School was over anyways.

Taking it off you hand it to him. He looked taken aback until you spoke.

"You can have it back. I don’t need to be wearing the clothes of someone like you." You put it in his hands and walk away. He didn’t say anything his eyes stayed on you as if he was an animal haunting his prey.

Serching everywhere you thought about the possibility of the dust pan being inside a cabinet. The faster you finished this the better. So you bent down to look for it.

"Pink panties?" You hear his voice behind you as he flips your skirt up. You quickly turn around and tug your skirt down.

What was wrong with this idiot? Yea he’s pushed, hit, and tripped you before but this was outrageous. Wanting to say something you open your mouth but quickly bite your lip as he looked at you.

Slowly closing the gap between you both by grabbing your face. You try to turn your head away but his grip was so strong you couldn’t move. You had no choice but to look right back at him.

"What is it that your planning? Wearing such a tight shirt and a small skirt. Don’t tell me you think getting a boyfriend will stop me from messing with you." He smiles.

"No, that’s not it at all!" You try to tell him but he too busy admiring the breast that protruded in front of him.

"You’re such a whore, such a disgusting slut showing herself off like this. Arnt you embarrassed walking around like this?" His hand glids under your skirt and grabs you hem of your panties. With one swift motion he drags them down. "Move your legs," he says and you comply not wanting to make the situation worst.

When he held your panties in his hand you look away feeling so ashamed of yourself. In the corner of your eye you could see him wrap it around his wrist as if it were some kind of accessory. He looked at it for a few seconds feeling satisfied. With a stupid grin on his face.

"I’m going to wear this tomorrow and tell everyone that they’re yours."

You look at him horrified. What would people say? You would be the laughingstock of the school. Your eyes began to blur as tears formed. You didn’t want to cry in front of him and show his your weak but you could help it. Tears began to roll down as you dropped your knees feeling so embarrassed. You watched as the tears landed on your gray skirt.

Yuta bent down and picked your face back up to look at him. "Shhh, why are you crying? Don’t tell me you hate it that much." He smiles at you softly. "Let’s make a deal. I’ll stop messing with you if you grant two of my wishes."

Your tears finally came to a stop as you heard him say that. Two things and no more bullying after that? Sounded too good to be true but what if he made you do horrible things? Your bottom lip trembled at the thought of it. Maybe he’ll have some pitty on you and they won’t be so bad.

You agree to his propersition and you could see something flicker in his eyes. He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you across the classroom to the teachers desk. He sat down first on the rolling chair and then proceeded to pat his lap indicating that he wanted you there. Slowly you began to sit down on his lap but he stopped.

"Not like that, lay on my lap on your stomach."

You look at him confused but followed along.

"My first wish Is for you to lay here still." He whispered in your ear.

This was an odd wish but you tried to stay calm. Though hundreds of scenario’s played in your head none of them being good. You couldn’t help but holding your breath as you await his next move. Surely it wasn’t a good one because you felt your skirt being lifted up.

"Wait, what if someone sees?!" You try to get up but he places his right arm on your back to keep you down.

Currently you were facing the wall where the windows are in the classroom. Your behind faced the entrance of the room and the small windows that let you peek inside. If someone walked by they would see everything, literally.

"Maybe if you’re a good girl and stay quiet nobody will have to find out. Though I surely wouldn’t mind if they saw you like this." Yuta said.

You open your mouth to protest but instead of words a moan came out. You gasp hearing yourself and quickly cover your mouth. He had just shoved a finger inside of you. You look back at him knowing that sound you just made would fule whatever he had going inside his head. A bigger smile appeared on his face as he worked on you.

He could help but enjoy your quiver under him. How you squirmed and tried your best to stay quiet. It assumed him so much that he couldn’t help but think of never letting you go. You were such a lewd girl, he never thought of you this way until today.

You could feel as your juices covered you and his hand. How your heat was getting hotter and hotter. How his finger curled hitting the right spot. He would switch from fingering you to teasing your clit. Rubbing it in circles and sometimes side to side.

Then he stuck a second finger inside you could feel as your walls stretched to adjust to his fingers. Your legs shook in pleasure as he curled his digits over and over again. You’ve never felt so good and you were ashamed of yourself. How could you be enjoying something like this? You needed to hate this, you needed to hate Him.

"Stop-mh- pleease, I’m begging ah I’m begging you" You begged him to stop as you let small moans slip from your vocal cords.

"Shh, be a good girl and stay quiet." He said as he went back to rubbing your clit.

Your legs acted on their own and spread apart immediately so he could touch you more. "Such a nasty whore. Come for me, I know you want to."

Those words got to you for some reason. The way he called you a whore yet he was slowly morphing your insides to his liking. He wasn’t gentle with you at all. He shoved his fingers mercilessly into you to see you squirm. He really liked how you were this way, timid, whinny, and obedient.

He had you right under his grasp just like a wolf would have had its rabbit right under him. Toying with the poor thing until he decided to eat it.

You babble to him trying to tell him to stop. You could feel yourself getting there.

"Common girl, let’s show the luckyperson that happens to walk by how you cum. Let’s show them how much of a dirty whore you are for these fingers."

You shake your head not wanting that to happen. You try hard to prevent yourself from climaxing but the attempt was usless. The second he felt you clamping down on his digits he started going faster and harder.

You let out a loud gasp and yell out his name as you became undone. Releasing all of your juices all over his fingers. With a satisfied chuckle he brings his hand to his face and licks his fingers clean. Watching you shake under him, trying to regain your composure.

"For my next wish I think we want you to keep this up until graduation." He pulls your skirt down and forces you to stand up.

"I just cleaned you so I assume you can clean the rest of the classroom no?"

AN: found this in the back rooms