#good morning everyone!!! 🖤

[fearandhatred]

HI LEANNE HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! it's probably already nighttime for you but i love you and hope your birthday was amazing!! 🩷🩷

AAAAAAA (<- i am both yelling and elongating your name) I LOVE YOU THANK YOUUU 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[deusauris]

The Octopus nurseries are so cute, I am going to start violently hiccuping and sobbing.

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

HIW YALL KEEP FINDOFG MY OLD ASS POST PLEAASEEEE IM TAKING SIGNIFICANT DAMAHE

[allusivealyssa]

“This is ridiculous.”

Izana stands outside your hotel room door with an embarrassingly large bouquet of flowers. It’s supposed to serve as an apology—for what, he’s not entirely sure. He didn’t have anything to be sorry for. But he still felt oddly…unnerved and remorseful about missing the majority of the gala night. He wanted to see what dress you ended up wearing, and if it would look as pretty on you as he’d pictured.

…He scowls again. Why the hell was he picturing you in any of those dresses? It’s confusing. He’s confused. He has no idea why he’s here, and there’s the distant sound of thumping and moaning coming from down the hall that makes his cock twitch and his frown deepen and sour. He should just go. He knocks, and just in the middle of deciding to drop the flowers at your doorstep and go, you open the door. Bed hair and sleep shirt and all.

He’s cursing everything and everyone at his luck, but just as you open your mouth to say his name, he’s jutting out the flowers and shrugging.

“Sorry for leaving you to deal with Shuji all by yourself last night. I hope he kept his muzzle on. I thought you’d like these.”

— @sirkurokawa

To say she is surprised to see Izana standing at her door is an understatement. Not only did he skip out on the formalities of the evening, but not a single trace of him was anywhere inside the Saros Hotel the entire evening from what she could tell. She had half a mind to tell him what a good time he missed, and how she settled on the perfect dress without him after all. With that thought the realization had hit her that she was a bit disappointed the handsome model chose to go MIA. Fleeting thoughts of the fun they could have had, the suit he no doubt would blow everyone away in, the ruckus he would cause purely at the sight of— you know what, maybe its ok that he didn't attend. Maybe it was a gift from the universe for not only her, but Amari, and every other guest in this hotel.

Still, she would have enjoyed seeing him amongst his peers. A different side of him than she has previously witnessed. She was curious, though not entirely sure herself of why. More curious however, were the flowers he shoved towards her almost immediately. Certainly bigger than any bouquet she had ever been gifted before, she was a little awestruck but tried her best not to show it. Her expression surely failing her, the blush on her cheeks a cruel betrayal in the endeavor, but stubbornly she refused to let her words follow suit. Settling on a more playful approach in attempt to ease her own awkwardness, she settles for a simple "Oh, thank you. They're beautiful. I see you really did intend to turn over that new leaf. How's that going by the way?"

Smelling the flowers and looking over just how beautiful each individual stem up close, she decides to spare the man and at least take him out of the view of prying eyes – not that there were many at this hour, given most seemed to still have their eyes rolling in the back of their heads and their toes curled moaning out whatever flavor of the night they consumed. Opening the door to her room wider, she takes a step back, gesturing he is welcome to join her with a warm smile to ease his worries. "Why don't you come inside while I get dressed for the day. You can tell me all about it. If you are in fact still on the path to a new you, we can head down to breakfast afterwards. I will fill you in on everything you missed and you can catch me up on the mystery whereabouts of Izana Kurokawa."

[iirath]

i need to update my carrd again to update all current muses present here , i think for now i'm done moving muses around. though at some point vincent might get pulled over here ( because as much muse as i have for him , i'm just overwhelmed ) but tbh ada is always gonna have her own blog.

[cry4mina]

Spite

(Vampire!Mina x fem!reader)

Word Count: 4K

Smut

Disclaimer/Summary: this was literally the first thing I ever wrote and sent to a former mutual who will not be named before I started this blog. It was sent to provide points of interest for a specific type of smut they didn’t know how to write.

Since credit wasn’t given when stated it would be- I’ve decided to unearth it from the messages, tweak it, add to it and post it. So if it seems familiar, know that this was what was originally sent to help spark SOME of the ideas for that fic, specifically.

The context of this is reader is trying to save Mina from her alter ego vampire “Sharon” who can hypnotize people and bend them to her will. Reader has feelings for Mina but was unaware of the powers Sharon holds. Mina was chained up before to avoid Sharon hurting anyone. But uhm…she didn’t stay that way.

TW: aggressive smut, vampires, blood, straps, choking, mind control, hypnosis, cursing, feral fucking lmao lemme know if i missed anything!

A/N: Shout out to those who encouraged me to finish this and also @nr1chaedickrider @miinatozakiii @namojoon for also contributing to the subject matter of the fic this went into! 🖤

And a shout out to @ghostykapi for helping me find some pictures for this! 🖤

Your eyes flicker open to a slurry of lightning flashing. The sounds of rain and thunder jolted you of a glorious dream of you and Mina. A wet dream, soft and sweet, passionately tangled together in a heated scene. It felts so real, it’s shame it wasn’t.

Hands reaching up to wipe the slumber off your face. You kicking your feet out of the warm sheets and sit up, yawning and stretching to pull the rest out of your bones and forget the dream you wished you stayed in a little longer.

Unable to remember falling asleep, the last thing you recall is Mina in chains and then everything going black. Chaining her down to the floor to keep her safe was the only option to protect not just you, but everyone around you too.

The difference between Mina and Sharon was night and day.

Mina was caring, kind, and full of love. A warm wave of safety that never ceased to amaze you in how pure she was.

Sharon was malevolent, disturbing, and evil. An iced entity of stoicism that was bloodthirsty and power hungry. Willing to do anything and everything to get what she wants. Chaining her down was the only way to keep her from feeding. Unnecessary death was always to be avoidable as long as she was chained up and away from everyone.

Sharon was powerful already, being able to use hypnosis on those around her with her eyes and touch, manipulating to gain whatever she could. Dangerous, seductive, and violent.

A hint of copper in your mouth makes your face contort, confused on how the metallic flavor was present against your taste buds. Rolling your tongue around mindlessly, trying to figure out if you had a cut in your mouth, you stand up the concern on your face palpable when you realize you don’t know where you are.

An unfamiliar room with large floor to ceiling windows, giving you a view of the storm raging outside. The bed was large with a black wood and a filigree pattern up the canopy supports. Sheets of satin, night stands that matched the frame, the room was dark in design and eerie in feeling.

The feeling of being watched makes you shiver, grabbing your own arms to hold yourself in the discomfort.

“Good Morning, Y/n.” heard creeping out of the shadows, startling you out of your own head, forcing you to fully wake faster than you normally would.

Another shiver down your spine, you recognize the voice, and pan the room to see a glow of red eyes and the faint pale face of Mina.

Sharon had already taken over her, the infected half of her DNA with a mind of it’s own. Using Mina’s body for her own gain, seducing people to lure them in and goring them before they even had a second to realize what was happening.

You take a step back but she matches your movements. You look for an exit in a panic, not knowing the danger that you could be in when it hits you. The eye contact that causes a surge of desire, running hot in your veins, rendering you tense. Your thoughts are haunted by lewd ideas of her…just like the dreams you were having only moments ago but with more of a sadistic twist.

“You really thought it wouldn’t come to this?” She grinned, voice contorting to a slightly deeper tone, giving an unfamiliar tang to the face you see in your dreams.

“I always thought you’d fight back a little harder…maybe actually try to do something about me…” Pacing as she speaks, admiring how you wince at her words. She knows she can’t be stopped especially because of how you felt about Mina. She did have her face after all.

“How do you feel?” the rhetorical question she asks almost passes you by.

You’re too busy blankly staring at her to see how she’s is sizing you up like a snake about to consume a meal after a long while. Her gaze burns a hole into your chest, the heat rising through the beaming chasm that once was where your heart sat, now all consumed by manipulative lust and yearning for her.

“What do you mean “how do I feel?”” trying to play it like you weren’t scared shitless and insatiable, completely soaked in your own arousal as the flashes of her on top of you pass through your mind.

She giggles and steps closer.

The realization hits that there is no escaping this while she is in front of her, her eyes hypnotic in the way they stay on you. You’re losing your sense of self by the second.

There’s no escaping her.

“Don’t you taste it?” She’s just toying with you now, playing with her food before it’s consumed.

Your eyes widen when you grasp what she’s hinting at.

“W-Who am I tasting?” A sudden clash of thunder reverberates in the room, lightening flashes through the windows, erasing the shadows and allowing you to see her blood stained lips.

She continues watching you without blinking to see if you flinch at the sounds. The hunger in her crimson laced eyes was intimidating and indecipherable. Lust fueled or blood driven, you were unsure. Was this just apart of her plan? Bring you here while you were asleep to seduce you and then…death?

“That would be me, actually.”

Sharon maneuvers her hair, shifting it from one shoulder to the other to show the imprint of your teeth in her neck. A normal human teeth bite mark into her neck…you don’t remember doing that. More importantly, what happens to a human when they drink vampire blood?

“You chained me up…I didn’t like that very much. I’m sure you understand.” She leans against the wall, watching you in a predatory way. Taking every slight movement in, making sure to look up at your eyes to keep you under her spell.

Pulling at your shirt to detach it from your body, her eyes on you makes you feel like you’re being hunted, creating a flash of heat within you.

A small chuckle leaves her mouth menacingly as she watches you remove the article of clothing.

“While you were under my spell, I saw everything. Your thoughts…your feelings…your fantasies…” Pausing for a moment to watch the embarrassment fall over your face, knowing that she had seen the dreams of Mina, from the soft sweet ones to the vile filthy ones.

“They intrigued me.” sauntering over to you, placing a finger under your chin exposing a wound on your neck that she had left before you woke up.

Cocking your head at the statement, pulling your face out of her hands as you furrowed your brows in confusion and try to exact your free will and get out before it’s too late.

Even with the ache between your legs urging you to make a move, this wasn’t Mina…this was someone who just looked like Mina…even though you were fighting your desire of her, it was still very much present and you did not want to give in so easily.

“My mark looks good on you…maybe if you’re a good for me, I’ll give you another” her voice drenched in a possessive tone, the inflection of ownership on you rattled you all the way down to your core.

“Excuse me?” You spat, trying to put up a fight against this supernatural trance she’s put you in.

Sharon cupped your face and looked deep within you, violating the privacy of your thoughts. Intrusion into your brain, into your soul.

“I’ve seen it all, you know….Your fantasies about me, the way you dream of me. It’s so pathetic, really.”

Removing her hand from you and turning her back to walk to the door and lock it by the knob and the deadbolt fixated to the frame.

“I’m going to turn you into my play thing.” Hissed with bated breath, spinning around so rapidly that it created a gust of hellish wind.

“When I'm done with you, you’ll only be able to say my name…I’ll remove all those thoughts out of your head until you’re just my worthless toy… Since you’re so desperate for her to touch you…I figured why not show you how she can really be!”

In one swift movement, “Mina” is in front of you with her hand tightly squeezing your throat, digging her nails into the sides of your neck and baring her fangs in an attempt to get you to submit.

It surprises you how much you’re enjoying this, even hating to admit it to yourself. The idea of Mina being rough with you had consumed your thoughts a few times, you just never thought it would be Sharon to enact them.

Pulling at her hands to get her off of you, her other hand swings and smacks you across the face. She knows your thoughts, she knows you want this and the slap was another attempt to get you to see that she was in control and you had no choice but to let her have her way with you.

Bringing your own hand up to cup your cheek, feeling the heat emanating off the slowly developing red mark, you can’t help but wince at the sting.

Swinging your hand out to slap her back, she leans out of the way causing you to completely miss. She had the dominance that you craved but the urge to fight back was louder than the pulsing between your thighs.

“Mina” tightens her grip on your neck, causing your breath to hitch and almost stop completely as she glares into your eyes, the red storms of putrid rage clashing around matching the weather outside.

“Don’t. Do that. Again.” Gritted through her sharp fangs.

She squeezes one last time and then lets go, dropping you to the floor. You collapse and on your knees, gasping for air and trying to remove the vile thoughts you are having about her.

“I can see those…” Looking up to see her alluringly evil smirk painted across her face, a seductive horror anthology was about to take place. This grin was your warning.

Mina licks her lips and pounces, fully knocking you to the floor, straddling you right above your waist to keep you locked into place.

You’re at her mercy, wrapped around her finger, and completely hypnotized by her spell.

Fangs out and hissing as you attempt to struggle underneath her. She forcefully stretches your hands above your head and pins you down with only one of hers. When did she get this strong?

She kisses you roughly, a striking contrast to the Mina you were used to. Moaning into her mouth, you feel the heat that has been building between your thighs. Avoiding clenching them together, you try to use your strength to push her up to get a better angle.

Her hands slowly trailing up your torso, making sure to drag her nails over your fabric covered nipple just to hear you mewl at her touch.

Hand now wrapped around your throat again, she stands up and drags you with her, and tosses you onto the bed.

The frame rattles against the wall and the softness of the blankets welcome you back sooner than expected.

Quickly mounting your waist once more, hands returning to your throat causing you to nervously swallow at what’s to come.

Sharon leans in to your ear and growls “I’m going to ruin you.”

A third shiver travels through your body and you use every ounce of strength to lift Mina off of you and flip her around on her back.

In this moment, your brain is clouded with desire for the person underneath you, thoughts so intense that your efforts to shake the thoughts out were failing and you needed to try to leave before you succumbed to Sharon’s lust driven needs.

You jump up and head toward the exit but halt immediately when you feel a hand on the back of your neck.

Head spun around for you vigorously, you’re met with eyes glowing red. Mindlessly hypnotized by how deep the pools of crimson.

Slick leaking down your thighs as you rip your bra off and toss it, not caring where it landed.

Why is your body laying down without you telling it too?

She’s so stunning, you need her…Lost in the swirling red that sliced through your hopes of escape.

Within seconds, Sharon’s mouth was on your neck again. Dragging her teeth and hissing possessively. Groaning softly at the sensation of her warm fangs over the bite mark that was already present.

Your hand wraps around the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair. Your chests are pressed against each other in the heated whirlwind of the moment. Wanting nothing more than for her to touch you. Anywhere and everywhere.

You let go, allowing her to take you, how ever she wanted.

She felt your submission and smiled fangs fully out and grazing the skin of your neck, leaving small cuts at how razor sharp they were, blood dribbles out slowly. She licks the cuts clean, humming at the taste of your life force.

“You belong to me now” growled at you, causing you to clench around nothing.

SMACK

The sound of her slapping your breast echoes in every corner of the room. Red welts appeared on your chest as she bent down to take your nipple into your mouth. Roughly abusing you as you squirmed underneath her.

You can feel how absolutely ruined your underwear is and shift uncomfortably, trying to unstick yourself from the cloth. Sharon notices and stands up, removing contact from you. Eyebrow furrowing at the lack of touch, you let out a needy whine as she watches and towers over you.

“Take your pants off” crossing her arms and waiting. You hesitate. She grabs you by the face hostilely, pinching your cheeks between her index finger and thumb.

“If you don’t take them off, I’ll rip them off of you. I need to know what you taste like.”

You cocked your eyebrow, challenging her. Pursing your lips as if to dare her. She scoffed and ripped your pants right off your body. The sound of the rip only makes the wet spot on your underwear grow even larger, the craving you had for her was unbearable.

Aggressively pushing you back down on the bed, throwing you around effortlessly like a rag doll. She crossed her arms again, glaring at you.

“Don’t move or you’ll fucking regret it” Sternly, the malice present in her tone, before gracefully strutting towards the dresser in the corner, removing all remaining clothes as she made her way over to it.

You hear a soft demonic whine from the other side of the room.

Sharon returned hastily with a device already fixed at her hips, other end of the double ended strap on already inside her. Her thighs glistening in the sleek essence dripping from her core.

Coasting your tongue on your bottom lip as an invitation, you hunger for her.

Suddenly, your legs are pressed against your chest, her knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your arms above your head, and she’s biting your collarbones and chest leaving trails of fang marks behind in a scattered pattern.

You wince at the pain, feeling yourself falling into the subspace as she navigated around your chest. Slowly descending down to tug on your nipples with her teeth which transitions to licking and sucking the cuts her fangs leave on your tits and listening to you whine for more.

“Please I need y-“ you started to beg for her when she grabs your waistband and rips your underwear clean off your body revealing your soaked state of yearning for her.

“Oh, fuck” breathily escapes your lips.

Sharon takes the tip of her strap and glides it against your slit, eliciting more primal sounds out of you.

“Awh, look at you. Desperate and pathetic for me….or for her…this is your fantasy, no? Don’t you just want her to tease you…to take what’s hers? Too bad I’ll get there before she does.”

It’s hard to hear her talk about Mina like this, knowing it was her body touching you, but she wasn’t present, only this succubus fronting in the warmth of her.

Sharon takes her strap and smacks your clit with it a few times, splattering your slick and returns to sliding it up and down against you. You lift your hips in the same rhythm as her thrusts, unable to look away from the intense eye contact had between the two of you.

“Don’t worry about what she thinks.” reading your mind yet again, at this point you don’t even care she’s being so intrusive.

All you want is her.

All you need is her.

“Mina is enjoying the show.”

She guides the tip to your entrance, pushing her hips into you. Hands on the back of your thighs to keep them against your chest as she enters you, bottoming out in one smooth stroke.

She wastes not a single second more, giving you barely any time to adjust to something being inside you, she pulled back out and snapped back in. Your cunt screams at the mix of pain and pleasure, coating her strap in slick effortlessly.

“Look at how fucking wet you are and I’m just getting started. Someone is eager to be my whore, isn’t that right?”

Unable to focus on anything else other than the desire for her to keep going, you nod your head between gasps, moving your hands to the back of your thighs where hers were so she could use hers how she wanted.

Sharon slows down her pace until halting her motion, watching and waiting for you to answer.

“Say it.” spite-fueled harsh whispers emulating the tone of her seriousness.

“Yes, yes, please…fucking please!” the longing for her was too much, you fear for what you’d become if it wasn’t satiated.

Sharon maniacal laughs turn into grunts when she begins to slam her hips into you again. All you care about is her touch, mesmerized by every single moment of contact and the glare she gives you.

Sharon moaned at the sensation of her clit rubbing on the leather of the harness and the rocking of the silicone inside her.

The coil in your stomach tightens with each sound you both make, threatening to break as she kept jackhammering into you, tip kissing your cervix with each groan had between the two of you.

“M-more…fu-uh-uh-uh-ck, please” slurring your words as you tried to wrap your legs around her to push her deeper into you.

Lowly growling at you and prying your legs from her hips, she pushed them down to your chest again. Fighting the urge to drain you for defiance.

You were her toy and she was going to do this her way.

The pace quickened as she plowed into you. Blurred vision, stars in your eyes, coming close to your high when she let out a snarl and pulled out. Using her strength she flipped you over, pushing your face into the sheets.

“Arch your fucking back” Sharon placed a cold hand on your spine pushing down while lifting your ass in the air.

A finger found its way to your folds. Teasing you and watching the slick drip out of you.

Removing her finger, she bent down and started sucking on your clit. Gasping and writhing as she rhythmically licked your sensitive bud, building up brick by brick the sensations she wanted you to feel.

Dragging her nails up and down your thighs and her tongue continued to dance on your folds, being sure to taste every drop of you.

Two fingers suddenly plunged in and curled towards your G-spot. Pressing down repeatedly causing you to lose touch with any left over moments of reality you still had.

“I’m gonna cum” you scream into the sheets as you start to contract around her fingers.

Essence belonging to you drips down her hand. She’s continuing to pump into you and bring you to your moment of ecstasy. Blissfully being devoured by a demon who looked like an angel.

A devious smirk wipes across her face as she continues to let you ride out the orgasm she gifted you.

You’re completely in shambles, unable to speak full sentences, legs shaking and not willing to hold the weight of your body anymore.

Frozen hands wrap around your waist, you can feel your body being held up.

“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet!” a smack to your pussy startles you.

Feeling her slide the strap back in with ease, both moaning as she pulls out to the tip and continues the deadly pace she had before.

Screaming underneath her with no sense of control, you were overstimulated in the best way, the sensitivity of having just cum was a mere thought when the need for her took over again.

Sharon continued to fuck you senseless, snarling behind you as she pumped, craving her own climax. You felt her hips stutter and falter as she growled, trying to keep her pace.

“Use me, Make me yours -fuck fuck fuck-, Sh-Sharon” you whined, knowing it would push her right over the edge and into the raptured to heaven moment you just had yourself.

She snarled and sank her teeth into your shoulder, moans muffled by your flesh and the tension of her jaw while her hips haphazardly jerk, not letting you out of her venomous bite.

The sound of her cumming, the feeling of her digging her teeth into you, and the movements of her strap set off into another pulsating moment of pure unadulterated bliss, cumming around her, gripping her and making it difficult for her to keep her already unsteady rhythm as she tried to ride out her own orgasm.

She slowly came to a stop and gently draped her body on your back, softly wrapping her arms around you while she caught her breath, licking up the blood gushing from her deep bite.

Her warm torso resting against you was heaven, in and of itself.

You both laid there, chests heaving when she pulled out of you. The sudden emptiness and the stroke of it makes you gasp and whimper again. She undid the device from around her hips, putting it on the night stand to be cleaned tomorrow.

She looked over at you, making eye contact. You notice that her eyes are brown like before, you blink a few times at her. She puts her hands up in defense, eyes widened at how quickly you realized she was back to Mina.

“I can explain!”

[incognit0slut]

SILENT PLEA

Part 1 of kinktober | main masterlist

Being a few feet away from your friends wasn’t going to stop you from seeking pleasure with your professor.

softdom!spencer x fem reader; Thigh-riding, teasing, semi-public, praise, age gap, power imbalance with teacher/student dynamic

words: 2,932

a/n: this one is dedicated to those who just wants to sit on his lap while being praised 🖤 (also i has to repost this bcs of some error it was so weird)

IT WAS HIS EYES. The rich, earthy tones of his irises with subtle flecks of amber and gold held a comforting warmth that seemed to radiate within, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You always found yourself captivated every time his gaze fell on you. It felt as if he had a secret language written in those brown orbs, one that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Or it might've been his hands. You always knew he had nice, well-kept hands but the more you examined them, the more you noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised you, as well as the length of his fingers, but it was the veins running along the backs of his hands that really made you dry at the mouth.

Maybe it was the age difference. The mature lines on his face, those crinkle lines around his eyes whenever he smiled only adding an appeal to his appearance. And the way he carried himself with a sense of authority was definitely a factor, one that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

But perhaps it was just him. All of him. The way he stood at his tall height. The way he laughed at his own joke. The way he spoke in his lectures—the enthusiasm palpable in his voice as he explained the difference between a trigger and a stressor while mentioning he was going to put them in the finals, something he shouldn't have probably done.

It was everything about him. His unruly hair. His tailored suit. His charming smile.

And there was the way that he called you, addressing your first name in a room full of people, yet every time you were alone with him, you felt special. You were always his good girl.

"You're such a good girl for me, you know that, right?"

You knew, because every time you did as you were told, he gave you more. More than what you wanted, more than what you needed. He knew you inside and out, and as much as you hated to admit what you were doing these past couple of months was deemed inappropriate, you still couldn't help it. Everything about him made you crave more.

That was why you found yourself perched on his lap after class. It was wrong on so many levels. Not only was it unprofessional for a faculty member to be sexually involved with a student, it was also looked down upon to be in a relationship with someone almost twice your age. But temptation won over rational thoughts, and you had to admit, the professor you had a crush on ever since he introduced himself in front of the class, was really good at tempting you.

"Spence..." You sighed out, hips squirming along his lap. Each of your legs was on either side of his thigh, and you sat there, waiting for him to do something because you were desperate. How could you not when he had been eying you throughout this morning? The subtle glint of mischief wasn't lost on you when he spoke in front of you and your peers, and now that you were finally alone with him, you wanted his undivided attention.

Spencer's hands gripped your thighs as his eyes swept along your body. They momentarily paused on the low dip of your shirt, your cleavage visible for his own pleasure, before he glanced back up to your face.

"We don't have much time," he reminded, yet his hands were sliding up your skirt. And he was right, there wasn't enough time. Staying in his class after everyone had left wasn't exactly ideal, but it didn't stop you from locking the door before you practically climbed on top of him. You knew his next class was about to start in fifteen—no, thirteen minutes. You had already spent the two minutes waiting impatiently for him to touch you.

Now you couldn't leave this room without having a part of him. You needed him, every fiber in your body was screaming for him, and if you had to beg for him to comply with your needs, you would gladly do it in a heartbeat.

"Please." Your voice was barely a whisper, yet he still heard you loud and clear. "I-I need you."

Your breath hitched as his thumb stroked along the outline of your underwear and it took a lot of self-control for you not to whine pathetically. "Yeah? Tell me what you need then."

You paused, opting to choose the right words that wouldn't sound so vulgar because, with the way your body was reacting, you could only think of wild, explicit things. Your eyes settled on his face, sinking in the way he was watching you intensely, and your words abruptly stopped at the tip of your tongue.

"Go on, use your words," he urged. "Tell me what you want me to do."

You let out a trembling sigh. Everything about him was already consuming you, but the moment his hands danced along your sides, you knew you had to have more. Lust surged within you like a relentless tide, pulling you deeper into its intoxicating depths. It was a feverish, aching hunger that clawed at your insides, demanding satisfaction. The simple warmth radiating from his hands gripping your thighs just wasn't enough. So you braved yourself and leaned closer, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"I-I want you to touch me."

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "But I am touching you."

You looked at him through your lashes, biting down your bottom lip. "More," you pleaded. "Please."

He hummed a reply, his hands slowly leaving your hips before they trailed under your blouse, traveling up the length of your body before stopping right on your breasts. Your senses danced with anticipation, every nerve alert and quivering, as his hands cupped each flesh, squeezing them ever so slightly as you felt a thumb brush across a nipple over the thin layer of your bra.

"Like this?" All you could manage was a tiny nod and his smile grew wider. You couldn't help but buckle your hips when he rolled your nipples between his fingers, playing with them in a seductive tease.

"What else do you want?" He gently asked. You noticed the way his voice began to descend, gradually sinking into a deeper tone, and your eyes instinctively fell on his mouth. His lips were a perfect balance between fullness and subtlety. It was gently curved and so inviting that you wanted to feel the shape of them right against yours.

"I..." you started, your voice in a breathless whisper. "I want you to kiss me."

He let out a pleased sound, slowly sliding his hands out of your shirt. "I can definitely do that."

And then he was moving forward, pressing his lips to yours, caging you in with strong hands on either side of your face. You instantly melted like a puddle. You were ice and he was the sun, and the mere taste of him had your body dissipate in his arms.

He teased your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, lightly tracing the pink skin until your mouth parted in invitation. You moan quietly as the taste of him—faint traces of coffee and something incredibly sweet—greeted you. His tongue slid against yours, hot and eager to taste you as pleasure surged throughout your body.

Spencer slowly pulled away, trailing his lips down your neck before he sucked on the spot right under your ear. You could practically feel the smile against your skin as his hands traveled down your arms, holding you gently as he whispered, "Tell me what else you want."

The ache between your legs was too much to handle. A simple kiss was enough for your body to burn with lust. You needed the pleasure, you needed the release, and he was the only one who could give it to you. He was the only one who knew your body as if you were made exactly for him to ravish. Your eyes smoldered with an insatiable longing and your breath came in shallow, hurried gasps, each one a desperate plea for fulfillment.

It was now or never.

"I want you to fuck me."

He leaned back, if he was surprised by your choice of words, he didn't show it. Instead, he let out a sigh as his hands continued to move down your sides again. "Oh, sweetheart, it's not that I don't want to, but we both know I would need more than..." His eyes swept over the watch around his wrist. "...eight minutes to fuck you properly."

Your breath hitched in your throat, then you watched as the curve of his lip turned upwards into a teasing smile.

"But I can't leave my sweet girl all desperate like this, can I?" Then his hands were back on your hips. "Why don't you ride my thigh instead?"

Your face heated up at the suggestion while your mouth slipped out a desperate whimper. Your skin flushed with a warm, feverish glow, and the world around you faded into obscurity as desire became your sole focus.

You were hesitant, but you were also desperate to find your release, so your body started moving on its own, hips rutting against the roughness of his pants. Pressing the growing heat surging between your legs onto his thigh sent a shiver in your system.

Much to his pleasure, Spencer's mouth stretched out into a thin and permissive smile, unable to hide his satisfaction. "That's it," he praised, fingers digging into your hips. His raspy voice only made you burn with red-hot desire. "Keep going."

Following his words, you moved your pelvis. What started out lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction, grinding yourself against his leg with such fervor. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

Attempting to catch your breath, you buried your face into the crook of his neck to suppress your mewls of arousal as best as you could. But as he continued to massage your hips and manually move you back and forth on his leg, the effort quickly became useless.

"This feels good, doesn't it?" He murmured. "It's so cute how easily you get off with just my thigh, don't you think?" He said, giving your ass cheeks a firm squeeze.

You breathed his name as your eyes fluttered to a close. You grind your hips harder down onto his thigh, gasping against his lips when your clit caught on the material of his pants. Your toes curl as the fierce heat of pleasure overtook your senses. You were greedy with it, chasing after that spark as you rocked your hips steadily, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Doing so well for me," he whispered against your ear, hands gripping your hips as you rubbed yourself against his thigh quickly. He smiled when a soft, strangled moan escaped your parted lips, which encouraged him even more. "Look at you, drooling over my leg."

And just to prove his point, he pushed your skirt up along your legs until its material lay loosely around your waist. His eyes took in the sight of you. The way you were grinding against his leg frantically, the thin fabric of your underwear pressing between your throbbing cunt from the constant friction, slightly showing off soft, bare skin glistening under the light.

"So fucking wet," he mused, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as he watched you drenching him. "Just the way I like it."

It felt as if you were floating, so pleasurably dizzy it turned your head to mush. It was hard to keep yourself upright, eyes rolling back, body nearly giving out. And the wisest thing to do for you was to stop because you could imagine the mess you were making. You could also imagine the wet patch of your arousal staining his pants, visible for everyone to see.

"P-People will talk," you whispered between bated breaths.

"Let them." He rocked your hips forward, encouraging you to move faster. "Let them know your sweet pussy made this mess on me."

A soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips. You rolled your hips again, and the beginnings of something heady and sweet swelled within you. But in that heat of the moment, a sudden hush fell over the room, and your heightened senses caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching from outside. Your body stilled, every muscle tensed, and your breathing became shallow as you strained to listen to the distant murmur of voices.

Spencer suddenly leaned closer and ran the tips of his teeth along the outer shell of your ear once he felt your momentum slow. "I didn't tell you to stop, did I?"

You shuddered in response and found your pace again, faster and longer, continuing to knead yourself against his thigh. But then the sudden jolt of the doorknob sent a bolt of panic through you.

"It's locked," a muffled voice echoed from behind the door. "Isn't class supposed to start soon?"

Your ears perked up at the familiar voice before a second voice chimed in, yet still holding a familiarity you also recognized. "Is he not here yet?"

A small groan escaped your lips. There was no denying who those voices belonged to. They were your friends, albeit not that close, yet you were still acquainted with them and the thought of having people you knew standing a few feet away from you while you continued to rut your hips against him was making your head delirious.

"Do you know them?"

You nodded helplessly.

"Then maybe you should keep your voice down," he suggested, holding you closer to him. "Don't want them to know what you're doing in here, do you?"

He noticed the way your body stiffened.

"Or is that what gets you off?" He asked. "Your friends standing a few feet away while you're grinding desperately on your professor?" His hand sits on your lower back, drifting down to the tops of your ass, forcing you to rut forward.

It was so, so wrong, yet you couldn't stop the pleasure coursing through your veins at the possibility of being caught. The knowledge that your friends were just outside, on the brink of discovering your intimate moment, added an exhilarating layer to your pleasure.

"Spencer," you whined. "Please."

"Naught minx," he mumbled. "I think I like seeing you like this."

Suddenly, he jerked his leg up, catching you off guard and you whined instantly, unprepared to counter the pressure pushing up onto your sore cunt. Muffled cries of ecstasy escaped your lips, your teeth clenched in a futile attempt to hold back your moan.

It didn't take long until a pulsating warmth began to radiate from the pit of your stomach. Each passing second brought a rising crescendo, a mounting tension that threatened to shatter your composure. You whimpered, thighs shaking slightly as you continued the abuse toward your clit, somehow the material of his pants made the stimulation even better and it almost caused you to lurch forward in shock.

"That's it, use me," he encouraged. "So, so good for me. My sweet girl."

Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more, grinding yourself harder. Your muscles tightened, your breath quickened, your skin prickled with anticipation, and nothing could have prepared you for his next words.

"Cum on my thigh and I'll let you cum around my cock tonight."

That was it. You were instantly gone. The thought of having him stretching you was quickly engraved in your brain. The mental image of you spasming around his cock was enough for you to surrender into a blissful mess. The conversation outside continued and you made a concerted effort to keep your voice down, as waves of pleasure surged through you, causing your limbs to tremble and your muscles to spasm.

It wasn't until the sound of footsteps finally retreating from outside that a wave of relief ran through you, yet your breath still came in ragged gasps as he helped you ride out your orgasm and held you in place, making small ruts against himself with your spastic thighs gripping around him tighter.

"Oh my god—" he pulled you in for a kiss. Spencer's mouth devoured you, hot with a passion that made you dizzy. You whined into his mouth and bucked against him, little whimpers filling his throat. Then you felt his tongue on your bottom lip; you puckered your mouth, letting his tongue invade every corner of your entrance as a thrilling sensation shot right through your veins, finally riding out your orgasmic bliss.

When he finally pulled away, he watched as a string of saliva fell against your lips. He reached out and wiped the bottom of your lip with his thumb as his eyes glazed over your red and sweaty face. They flickered from your face down to your lower half as well as your equally drenched thighs. Yet despite the disheveled state of your hair and the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, you radiated a raw and untamed beauty.

Spencer always thought you were beautiful, but nothing could compare to the sight before him. Your once-pristine hair was tumbled in disarray around your shoulders, framing your flushed face. Your eyes, half-closed and smoky with desire, held an irresistible allure that seemed to draw him closer with every glance. Then there were your lips, kissed to a plush, inviting fullness, beckoned with a promise of lingering sweetness. You looked wrecked, like a hot, beautiful mess.

And he couldn't wait to ravish you tonight.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”

[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

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

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“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | intro.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 2.0k

—warnings: nothing much; cussing, very general description of research topics/neuroscience experiments including mentions of mice research (no details)!, mentions of infidelity (not oc or san)

—a/n: ty for being patient with me <33 here's the lil intro to professor choi 🤪 i think i'll keep the same update schedule i've had (every other weekend) but ofc will let everyone know if i cant update for whatever reason!! enjoyyyy this rideeee 🖤

Clunk.

San throws his glasses onto his desk before leaning back in his chair, hands coming up behind his head for a stretch. He had been working on his progress report for one of his grants since this morning, and he was starting to feel the migraine come on.

"Fuck." He mutters, pinching at the bridge of his nose before he gets up to grab another cup of coffee from his Nespresso machine— popping in a pod with a level 9 intensity into the slot and pressing start. It's around dinner time, but quite frankly, San isn't too hungry. He'll eat something small. He's just tired, especially because of this progress report. But, it's due next week and he needs to finalize his class schedule for the upcoming quarter at the same time. He won't have as much time to get through the technicalities if he waits any longer.

He's pretty immune to the different intensities of coffee at this point; having eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner during his postdoc years. It won't do much for long, but it'll at least keep him going for the next couple of hours before he calls it a day and lays in bed. 

When his coffee is done, he pours some creamer into his mug and gives it a good stir before settling back into his office. His house is too big for one person, but he enjoys the stillness. The quiet. He used to hate it. He used to hate when every corner reminded him of his ex-wife. Now, he's gotten used to it. He's learned how to live alone, how to enjoy his peace. He lets out a small sigh, taking a sip of his hot coffee as he resumes to look at the computer screen to his side. Suddenly, his phone goes off and he's quick to shift his attention to it because it's slightly odd for this time of day. People don't normally call him unless he's settled on a phone call meeting ahead of time, and he doesn't remember booking any calls tonight.

"Hey." San picks up when he realizes it's Jongho. Okay, so he maybe he lied. He does take a few calls from close friends, most who are also professors at the same university. "What's up?"

"How's your T15 report going?"

"Long. It's terrible."

"Well." Jongho laughs. "Perks of being you, I guess." San rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, thanks. Very enlightening."

"Anyways, I wanted to call really quickly. I figured you hadn't seen it yet, but wanted to put it on your radar. I looped you into an email for a possible collaboration. We're trying to meet this week if you're free. Might be good to see what it's worth, could get us more funding. Open more collaboration opportunities in the future." San presses the phone against his ear, holding it with his shoulder as he navigates to his inbox on his computer. He has a bunch of unread emails that he'll eventually respond to, paying a tad more attention to the pressing ones when he has a moment. He's not gonna lie, he does ignore a few if it's not of interest to him, or something he doesn't feel like he can contribute much to. He'll typically respond with a 'so sorry, no can do' if people get pushy and constantly follow up, but for the most part, he does his best to keep up and respond where it's warranted.

San sees the email Jongho is speaking of, but right underneath it, he sees another email from a student inquiring about rotating in his lab for the upcoming quarter. He's always interested when students reach out to rotate in his lab, but he can't accommodate all, especially when he doesn't feel like his research aligns with their goals. He usually takes 1 per quarter if it fits, otherwise, he doesn't have any at all. 

Out of curiosity, he clicks on the email since it has been awhile since anyone rotated in his lab. 

From: yn@atz.edu To: choisan@atz.edu Dear Professor Choi, I hope this email finds you well. My name is Y/N, and I'm currently a bioengineering grad student who is interested in rotating in your lab for the upcoming quarter. I have been thinking about diving deeper into computational analysis, mice behavior, 2-photon excitation and opto-stim work. I've spoken to your postdocs, Sunwoo and Belle, about their current projects and potentially collaborating since they seem to be touching up on all these aspects. I was hoping we can find a time to meet and chat a bit to see if it would be a good fit. The deadline to submit my rotation selections is coming up, so I'd like to make sure we meet beforehand. Let me know, happy to work with your schedule! Best, Y/N Y/L/N

The thing about San is that he's pretty good at picking up on a student's vibe through their emails. It's the tone, the professionalism, the way they write and carry themselves. He can tell when some people are a little more egotistical and ignorant, and he doesn't want people like that in his rather small, but mighty lab. His current grad students and postdocs all get along well, and they're bright people who are very passionate about their work and studies. He doesn't need people thinking they're above the others. In addition to that, he can also tell when students are just trying to get their name on a published paper doing work in his lab, or when they're just trying to wing their way through grad school. It's a shame, but he definitely has come across a few students in his inbox. They do exist.

You, though? He's intrigued. You seem bright. Genuinely passionate about the specific areas you're interested in diving into. Poised. He appreciates that. He quickly scans over your CV and the little blurb at the bottom that highlights the work you've done in your undergrad years and internships. Your work history. He sees that you've already dipped your toes in a few of the different areas you've mentioned. Worked with a few professors he knows. You've volunteered at a couple of places.

An all-rounder.

"Did you see it?" He almost forgets he's on the phone with Jongho.

"Mm, yeah. I'll respond in a bit, I think I can meet on Thursday. Sorry, I just got a little distracted. Saw another email about a potential rotation student."

"Gonna take one on this quarter?"

"Maybe. If it fits. She seems to be interested in a lot of the work we do. She knows Sunwoo and Belle."

"Oh, nice. That'll be cool."

"What about you? Taking on a rotation student?" Jongho is an assistant professor in the electrical engineering department, and he is often bombarded with inquiries himself. He usually always has a rotation student, and they almost always choose his lab to work in after their rotation program is up. San doesn't blame them— Jongho is brilliant, and his work creates a lot of different pathways for students to navigate and try. San's can be a hit or miss; it's quite niched, and students often find that it genuinely is tough to play around in his field.

"Yeah. Think so." 

"Alright. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I'll check my calendar and respond in a bit for sure." San eyes the email. "It does sound like a good collaboration."

"Figured you'd say that. Thanks, my guy! Take it easy and good luck on your progress report."

"Appreciate it." San gives off a toothless smile even though Jongho can't see him. He slides his phone off to the side and checks his calendar, upholding his promise to Jongho about responding to the email ASAP. He keeps his email short, letting the group know he can make the meeting at the desired time on Thursday to talk about the potential collaboration across labs.

Then, he pulls up your email and checks his calendar once more.

From: choisan@atz.edu To: y/n@atz.edu Hi Y/N, Thanks for your email - for sure! I think there's a lot of possibilities we could visit, especially with Belle and/or Sunwoo's projects. Can you pop into my office on Tuesday morning? 10am good? We can chat then. — San

"Oh shit." You slow your chewing when you see the email notification pop up on your screen during dinner.

"What?" Felix asks, turning his attention towards you and causing Jiung and Eunchae to do the same.

"Professor Choi answered my email."

"That was quick." Jiung takes forkful of food into his mouth.

"Professor Choi as in San or Jongho? Cause they're both hotties." Eunchae swoons and twirls her hair, making Felix scrunch his nose.

"San." 

"I'd kill to be a rotation student in their labs." Eunchae giggles. "What'd he say?"

"To meet him at his office on Tuesday to chat more."

"Well, that's good! Which other labs were you looking at?"

"I'm not sure. Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho. Kim Namjoon—"

"Isn't Professor Choi's ex-wife with Professor Jeong now?" Jiung looks up with a squint.

"Yeah, apparently when it all went down, it was a mess." Felix chimes in, and you continue to type away at your phone. "Imagine your wife having an affair with your bestfriend."

"Harsh." Jiung does a head tilt.

"I guess they don't interact much anymore, do they? Seems to be water under the bridge."

"I don't think so, but Professor Lee works in the Chemical Engineering department so they might have to from time to time if students in her lab wanna be co-advised or collaborate with him. Professor Jeong, though."

"Awkward. At least they can keep it civil." Felix shrugs at Eunchae's response.

"They lowkey have no choice." Felix looks up in thought before shrugging. "Still sucks to know your bestfriend was involved."

"Seriously." You add.

"Either way, those are good labs to possibly rotate in. It'd be cool if you could get into Namjoon's lab. Heard he's cool as fuck even though he's the department chair." Felix tosses his napkin into his empty paper bowl.

"Yeah, same. I'll keep you guys updated." You send off your response to Professor Choi with a small sigh. "There. Hopefully my rotation will be settled for the quarter."

From: yn@atz.edu To: choisan@atz.edu Hi Professor Choi, Yes, I can meet you at 10am on Tuesday. Thank you, and see you then! Best, Y/N

"Maybe you'll get more out of the rotation, especially with Professor Choi." Eunchae nudges your side and you let out a small yelp before you playfully pinch her bicep.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jiung snorts.

"I'm just saying, he's successful. A hottie. Young. Single—"

"Here she goes." Felix lets out a breath.

"Bro. Calm down." Jiung laughs. "He's still a professor."

"What if you two get close during rotation and he falls in love with you?" She looks at you ever so seriously. 

"Relax." Felix laughs. "What kinda movie did we fall into?"

"Eunchae, please." You poke her cheek. "You know we rarely ever see the professors in lab. We get like.. five minute meetings with them and that's about as much of a personal interaction we'll get. They're busy people. Sorry to burst your bubble, bae." She shrugs.

"It was fun to think about." She giggles. "But no, that'll be a good experience for you if you get to join his lab for rotation. The others are great, too. Is he your first choice for a dissertation advisor, though?"

"As of now, yeah. But, we'll see how it all goes."

"Keep us updated." Jiung sips some water. "I think I need to reach out to one more professor for this quarter. Needa figure out my shit before classes start."

"Same." 

Meanwhile, San sees the notification from your email pop up in the corner of his screen and he immediately presses on it. He smiles a bit when he realizes how easy scheduling that meeting was— most of the time, people say they'll work with his schedule but end up pushing back. He slots you into his calendar before he can forget and switches his attention back to the progress report he's close to finishing up. 

San thinks it'll be nice to host a rotation student again, as the experience has always been useful, eventful, productive. He thinks it'll be like any other time; the experience being useful, eventful. Productive. He trusts in his group, the students, to come up with great ideas and be able to execute from start to finish.

So, he doesn't think much of it. He thinks he can hand you off and trust you with Belle and Sunwoo.

Little does he know that's where he gets it all wrong.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @lynnsqueendom

[signedkoko]

could you do something with lucifer/ reader where they’re always taking care of him but that day they’re not mentally well, so he takes care of them? <333 please and thank you, i love your writing!

Lucifer X Reader [Comfort]

In which anytime he needs you, you are there; only this time you need him. Reader is genderneutral.

Sometimes, Lucifer became so sure of himself

That he was alone, that he needed to work harder, and he needed to surround himself with worthless activities to keep himself distracated

He would spiral into episodes of isolation until everyone forgot about him again, until he was sure he no longer held responsibility.

As much as he wanted to do it again, you wouldn't let him do that to himself anymore

Every morning you'd leave him breakfast, ask him what he planned for the day, and ask him to join you for dinner, did he have any requests for the meal? Would he show you what he made once he was done? So on

You were so good at keeping him in check that he didn't really realize that's what you were doing; he just expected that you'd be there

Made sure he would get a little messy, so when you'd bring breakfast, you would clean him up a bit with a cloth, like you always did

Lucifer was still so busy working that he only realized the time when his stomach grumbled

Usually you'd be here by now, but you never came

Well, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to take a little break and check up on you

One big stretch and a moment to grab his cane, and he was off to find you

First, the kitchen! Only you weren't there, nor was the living room in your usual spot, or even outside, where you had tea before starting up on anything

Worried and faster in pace, the fallen angel had slammed your shred room door open so hard it slammed the wall with a loud bang

" Lucifer! Goodness, you scared me- "

" You scared me first! Dear, darling, what's happening? "

He was already crawling into the bed to loom over you, making sure you weren't hurt

Your smile was weak, and you seemed pale

" Oh Lucy, I just don't feel okay. "

Now he was really frowning, pulling you close while manoeuvring the blankets around you like a swaddle, making sure you were well surrounded by them and his warmth

He doesn't know what to say or what to ask; anything he tries to stutter out into nothing

He has a servant handling you, making you something to eat, something for the both of you, while clinging to you as if you'd disappear

When he feels bad, he would usually rot away in bed until he felt he had energy to do something—or he used to—before you encouraged him to keep going every day

For now, he will lay with you and let you rest, but the moment you can, he promises to go with you on a walk—how about a park? Or a cafe you like? Anything to ease your mind

Author's Note - First solo Lucifer request, ya love to see it! I'm so glad you enjoy my work, thank you so much for requesting 🖤

[theemporium]

Idk if you take requests like this. But I'd love, if you write that is, Marauders era character' reaction when the reader flashes at them during an argument (there was a tiktok treand going on)

Idk which all marauders you write to, so feel comfortable to write the only ones you write for. Also can you make it a fem!reader prety please? Thankyou so much!

thank you for requesting!🖤i just did this with the three main boys, enjoy!

.

Sirius: 

“He was all over you!” 

“He’s a friend!” 

“And he wants to shag you!” 

“I don’t care, you’re the only one I want to shag!” 

The argument had been going on for the better part of the last hour. Sirius had always been a dramatic person and you knew that. A part of you truly adored it because his theatrical flare was entertaining, nine times out of ten. 

But right now? It made you want to put your head through a wall. 

“Sirius, you need to drop this,” you huffed out, hands on your hips as you watched the boy pace around the room. “I don’t care about him like that, why does it matter if he does—which he doesn’t, by the way.” 

“Because!” Sirius exclaimed with no other explanation. 

“For fucks sake,” you grumbled, shaking your head as the boy only rolled his eyes. 

“You don’t even care that this is upsetting me!” he accused, his tie askew and more buttons of his shirt undone than they had been this morning. “You don’t care that he’s trying to shag you and that it upsets me. Merlin, maybe you even like the attention because he’s a pretty bloke with pretty eyes and pretty hair and—” 

Sirius was rambling. And when he rambled, he really fucking rambled and you were not in the mood to deal with it right now—especially with something so stupid. 

Without a second thought, your fingers gripped the hem of your shirt and quickly pulled it up to your chin, watching the boy slowly come to a halt as his eyes dropped to your chest. 

“Oh,” he murmured helplessly. 

“Good. Now that you’ve shut up, you can listen to me,” you said, letting your shirt fall down as you reached for him. 

But Sirius whined, tugging the edge of your shirt back up. “Baby, no, don’t cover them up now.” 

.

Remus:

Remus Lupin was a stubborn bastard when it came to giving the silent treatment. 

It was irritable at the best of times. Majority of the time, it would be a silly little thing he would do when you got into petty arguments, and it wouldn’t last anything longer than five minutes before he was pulling you towards him and keeping you close. But sometimes—on the off chance you’ve had a really bad argument—it could go on for days.  

This time seemed to fall with the latter. 

It had been a tense week. Between raging hormones and upcoming full moons, the added stress of exams and assignments and marauder shenanigans hadn’t worked in your favour. You and Remus had been snappier than usual at each other and it led to one big blow out that resulted in neither of you talking to each other for the last three days. 

But now, you were tired and done with arguing and you just wanted your boyfriend. However, Remus didn’t seem eager to talk it out. 

“Really? We are still doing this?” you questioned as you stood at the foot of his bed, watching as he lazily turned the page of his book as though you hadn’t been in the room for the last fifteen minutes. “You’re being childish, Remus.” 

And yet, the boy still didn’t reply. 

Your boyfriend was as stubborn as he was gorgeous, and you had never hated it more than you did in that moment. 

But everyone had their weaknesses and you just so happened to know your boyfriend’s very well. 

“If that’s the way you wanna play it,” you grumbled as you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and chucking the material at Remus without a second thought. 

He paused mid-page flip, glancing down at the material before his eyes slowly lifted to look at you, clad in only your skirt and bra now. His eyes darkened, a flurry of emotions passing through that you recognised well enough. 

“Shit,” he muttered, halfheartedly throwing his book on his bedside table. 

“Now you’re talking to me?” you teased as you watched him crawl to the end of the bed, reaching out for you eagerly.

“We can talk later,” Remus grumbled as his fingers glided up your back towards the clasp of your bra. “Got more important stuff to do right now.” 

.

James: 

It wasn’t fair. 

You were good at arguing. Merlin, you were one of the best people when it came down to it. You loved a good argument. You loved winning an argument. And there was nothing better in knowing you were one hundred percent, without a single fucking doubt right. 

But your boyfriend was making it really difficult to argue when he was prancing around the room half-naked.

You could barely even remember what the argument was about anymore. All you knew was that James had already been pissy after losing a quidditch match and he kept being short with you, and the next thing you knew, you were bickering back and forth in his dorm room. Then he pulled his quidditch jersey over his head, leaving his thick arms and broad shoulders and glistening chest on display, and every single coherent thought left your head.

“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” 

You blinked, your surroundings returning to you as you stared at the pouting boy a few feet away from you. His hands were resting on his hips, his lips turned down in a somewhat frown and his messy curls covering his furrowed eyebrows. He was still pissed and now you were pissed at him for distracting you. 

It wasn’t fair so you decided to even the playing field. 

Without a moment of hesitance, you pulled your jumper over your head and let it thump onto the ground. You stood there, showing as much skin as he was, and watched as his eyes widened comically as he stared at your tits in the red bra you were wearing.

“I—” he paused, gulping a little. “What are you doing?” 

“Making this argument fair,” you stated simply as though you weren’t resisting the urge to reach out and watch his abs softly clench under your touch. “Now are you gonna tell me why you’re in such a shitty mood or do I have to keep pretending I know why you’re being like this?”

.

[fioiswriting]

Unholy

Summary : During the prestigious Targaryen family's annual charity gala, your boyfriend's stepfather decides to make you pay for the consequences of your actions. Perhaps you should have been more careful before entering this little game.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Daemon Targaryen x Jace’s girlfriend!reader (reader appearance isn’t specified)

TW : p in v sex, dom/sub, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, unprotected sex, size kink, spanking, inappropriate use of the word kepus, cheating, age gap (!!), fingering, mirror sex, pwp, (light angst at the end), modern AU, Daemon being Daemon, not proofread 

Words count : 9379

AN : hi everyone!! I hope you are all doing well! So. Sorry it’s just a 9000 words concentrate of filthy smut. I’m ashamed. But enjoy anyway.  (I need to write for Aemond again but my gf is a Daemon girly so blame her for this smutty thing <3)

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

The Targaryen family's annual charity Gala promised to be particularly grandiose this year. More spectacular. More lavish. More ostentatious than ever.  The budget had been spent on decorations, that was certain, and it was only a matter of time before guests began to stream down the stately aisle leading to the reception hall.

It was an annual event that no one could avoid, despite the tensions that were tearing the family apart from within, a kind of routine that had set in year after year. 

And this Gala pissed Daemon off.

He had better things to do than smile at a bunch of assholes, listen to a bunch of idiots talk about their uninteresting lives and pseudo-successes that he couldn't give a shit about. Not to mention the fact that the mere thought of being in the same room as Otto Hightower made him break out in hives. 

Rhaenyra had explained to him that it was for their image, but Daemon thought that was completely stupid. Since when did his reputation and his family's image have to depend on fake polite smiles and superficial bows?

Everything pissed him off, starting with Otto fucking Hightower, with whom he had to share his table for an entire evening. Rhaeyra had slipped away for a moment to prepare to give the opening speech at her father's side, like the heiress of Targaryen Corp that she was.

The interior of the building was large. Well decorated, illuminated by large chandeliers whose light enlarged the room. The designer - Alys Rivers or something like that - had good taste, Daemon had to admit. Waiters circulated among the guests, offering glasses of champagne or cocktails to the wealthy families who had gathered. Prestigious guests, certainly, but most of all a bunch of hypocrites, according to Daemon. He could feel all eyes on him. Spying on his flaws. Spying on his every move. Every scandal that might make the headlines in the morning.  Like he was going to honour them with such a spectacle. He wasn't that stupid. 

It was already scandalous enough that he had married his niece. He didn't know if he could worsen his case.

His older brother's tired voice rang out. His speech, full of the values promoted by the company; family, solidarity, benevolence and all that crap everyone pretended to believe in. After all, a bit of scandal might have spiced things up, a bit of chaos in this ocean of smiles and hypocrisy.  Daemon liked the idea.

He found his daughters in the crowd. They were beautiful, as always, the spitting image of their mother. He took advantage of the end of the speech to compliment them, kiss them on the cheek and take a family photo that would delight the journalists. Proof that he was a good father, or whatever they would write in lines he wouldn't even read. 

But it wasn't them he was looking for. Nor his stepsons.

He scanned the room with his eyes, and finally. Finally he found what he was looking for. The very one he was interested in. Who had aroused his curiosity.

He grabbed two glasses of champagne and approached you like a predator towards his prey. You were alone. That was easy. "Has Jace abandoned you?" he asked in his raspy voice as you turned, obviously surprised to see him. He handed you a glass, which you accepted with your fingertips. He was close to you. Almost too close.

"He went to look for Cregan," you replied, frowning suspiciously. You were on your guard, but Daemon knew you'd be easy to tame. He'd noticed the way you looked at him when your boyfriend Jace brought you home, and the way you strutted by the pool just before his eyes in nothing but your bikini. You'd asked Jace to put sunscreen on your back, but it was him you were looking at as your boyfriend rubbed your back, him. His stepfather.

The dress you wore hugged your body perfectly, revealing the lovely curves you hid underneath the fabric. He had no problem imagining that all the men in the room were probably mentally undressing you. He'd be lying if he said he didn't. 

But the idea that other people, that other men could imagine your body, could picture your shape, could have inappropriate fantasies about you, irritated him to no end. The very thought made his blood boil and every muscle in his body tense.

He couldn't really explain why. 

Or, if he had to be honest, he knew why ; he had an idea in the back of his mind and he was desperate to act on it.

"Don't worry about me, darling," he replied, "I wasn't looking for my wife. Not tonight." He added, lower this time, leaving a deliberate mystery over his words. He saw you hesitate for a moment, your eyes widening before a slight smile curled the corners of your lips.  "'By the way, you look gorgeous,' he continued. "What a pity my stepson decided to leave you alone on an evening like this. There are some ill-intentioned men out there who might take advantage of the situation."

He saw you take a step in his direction, lowering the volume of your voice to make sure no one around you could hear what you were about to say. He also saw you look him in the eye with a kind of self-assurance that proved you hadn't said your last word yet. Fuck, he loved this game. And he was determined to win.

"I'm not afraid of ill-intentioned men, Daemon. I'm not a little girl anymore." Your voice purred against his ear, and he wondered if you really knew what you were doing, if you knew what you were getting into by pretending to be a big girl. 

Men like him could make a meal of fragile little things like you.

So he slowly leaned towards you. Who cared if anyone saw him? At least it would give the paparazzi something to write about in the morning. Daemon didn't give a fuck. They could say what they wanted, only idiots read the piles of shit those so-called journalists wrote in their rags.  "Don't be so sure, little one," he whispered in your ear as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "You don't know what these bad men are capable of." His gaze lingered on your collarbone, the exposed skin of your throat and your cleavage that hinted at your breasts. 

Jace had good taste. You were simply divine.

"Then show me," you retorted, and Daemon's eyes locked with yours again. He had that usual smile, enigmatic and arrogant. But he said nothing. He let out an insolent chuckle, his fingers still wrapped in a lock of your hair, before turning on his heels. 

For once, maybe the Gala would be something other than a meeting of fake smiles and endless, falsely polite conversations with people he didn't even like. For once, maybe the Gala would be exciting. 

The meal had been delicious, and the dinner had gone as politely as Daemon could remain. Despite Rhaenyra discreetly kicking him under the table every time he was about to hurl an insult at Otto Hightower, that omnipresent parasite as tenacious as vermin, he had managed the feat of not provoking a diplomatic incident.  But Otto Hightower wasn't the only thing he was angry about. At the other end of the table, out of the corner of his eye, he could see you and Jace talking, your hand on his, and the thought irritated him. Which was hypocritical of him. But he saw his stepson whisper something in your ear, he saw him slide his hand under the table as you giggled, and a little later he saw him ask you to dance. You had accepted, with your eyes glued to Daemon, and you knew exactly what you were doing, he was sure of it. 

For as you walked past him, you let your fingers brush his shoulder. You knew what you were doing. You knew what you were doing, and you knew he couldn't make you pay for it, at least not in public, not now, not in front of everyone. 

His hand tightened around his glass, and when Rhaenrya asked him if everything was all right, he grunted, barely answering. You wanted to provoke him. You did it on purpose. You were trying to provoke him, like a little spoiled brat, and Daemon was going to show you what happens to girls like you. But for the moment he could do nothing but watch, his gaze clouded with possessiveness and jealousy, as Jace spun you around, as you swayed to the music, as you let your boyfriend press himself against you. 

All the while looking at him. 

And in his head, it was only your name that sounded like an old broken record. He needed to teach you a lesson, to show you what happened to girls who were provocative, to girls who were impertinent, to girls who wanted to tease ill-intentioned men without worrying about the consequences.

He had warned you, but you hadn't listened.

His eyes swept the room once more, but you had disappeared into the crowd. Occasionally you emerged, between two couples. It was like a game of cat and mouse, but Daemon wasn't sure he was in the mood to play any more. He dismissed Rhaenyra with a mumbled apology, and when he saw you slip out of the room, he followed you discreetly.

He found you leaning against the railing with your back to him. Your silhouette stood out in the pale moonlight, and as he approached, the laughter, the loud music and the clinking of bottles mingled like faint echoes in the distance. The fresh air was pleasant. Maybe it would help him think more clearly. Maybe it would make him stop thinking about things he shouldn't. You, you and nothing else.  It was becoming an obsession. 

Without warning, he moved in your direction. He could smell your perfume, a sweet, floral scent wafting towards him. Fuck, he was so close, pressed against you, he could even feel the warmth of your body against his. You didn't move, and Daemon took that as silent approval.  He was behind you. The lower part of his body, pressed against you. Against your lower back. A familiar warmth spread between his loins. You could feel it. You could probably feel the effect you were having on him, and the thought was driving him crazy.

"Daemon."

He didn't back away. On the contrary, he stopped for a moment and slid his hand delicately up your thigh, to the edge of your dress, where his finger traced the hem. It was naughty - you were his stepson's girlfriend. You were much younger than he was.  But he couldn't help wanting more. He couldn't help taking what wasn't his and making it his. 

Fuck. He loved to play with fire, that was for sure. 

Quietly, Daemon withdrew his hand and leaned back against the railing, his gaze resting on you like that of a teacher disappointed with your behaviour. But there was something else beneath his reproachful expression, something else, and it was almost possessiveness - or jealousy - that shone in his eyes. "Look at me," he ordered, lifting your chin with the tip of his index finger, and your eyes landed on him. You didn't want to give in, you didn't want to give him what he wanted, so you looked away to stare at a distant point on the horizon. But he insisted, his fingers bruising your chin. Perhaps he should teach you discipline, since you obviously didn't know what that was. So the two of you stood there for a moment; his dark gaze piercing your deceptively innocent eyes, and he said nothing, his jaw set. When he broke eye contact, it was to study the soft curves of your breasts. His thumb traced the line from your jaw to your throat, then along your collarbones in a sudden excess of possessiveness. His eyes burned with desire. 

He needed to possess you.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing, little one?" Daemon finally asked. You knew exactly what he was referring to. You knew about the pool, you knew about the sunscreen, you knew about the short skirt at dinner the other night, you knew about dancing with Jace, a moment ago, while you devoured his stepfather with your eyes. You knew you were doing it on purpose, and now you were going to pay the consequences. But you weren't ready to give in just yet. You wanted to play a little longer. So you put on your best innocent expression and pretended you didn't understand.

"I don't know what you're talking about.”

He was seething. You were driving him mad. He frowned, but he knew he wasn't going to get you, not like this. His eyes were dark with lustful desire and sheer hunger.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't play dumb," he added again, before pulling a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket. He put one to his mouth and lit it with a lighter, his hand bent to shield the flame from the wind. You watched as he took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke.

"I didn't do anything wrong." You bit your lower lip. Deep down you felt almost ashamed, like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but it was a paradoxical feeling - you adored the effect you were having on him. You weren't stupid, you knew jealousy when you saw it. But after all, you hadn't done anything wrong, that wasn't a lie. You had just danced with your boyfriend. With Jace. 

And Daemon was a married man.

"I was just dancing with my boyfriend," you said, putting the emphasis on that word. “You know, Jace."

Daemon handed you the cigarette, which you declined. He turned to face the horizon, leaned his elbows against the railing, his arms almost pressed against yours. He knew he had no right to be possessive with you. He was a married man.  He was a married man and you were young enough to be his daughter. It was hypocritical of him - but who doesn't need a bit of fun? The Gala was a bore.

"You were dancing? Really?" He paused. "Or tell me, are you so desperate for an older man's attention that you'll do anything to get it?" His words cut through the air like a sharp knife. He took another drag and turned towards you, blowing the smoke towards the horizon. Then he crushed his cigarette on the railing, nonchalant as ever. You remained silent for a moment. You stared at him. Who did he think he was?  Who did he think he was, talking to you like that, with that patronising tone, when you were Jace's girlfriend?  With calculated slowness, his fingers found your chin again and he forced you to lift your head towards him. He moved forward, pushing his body against yours until you were pressed against the iron barrier. He didn't care if the metal scraped against your back. He didn't care if it hurt. For the moment he wanted to be in control, and he wanted to remind you of your place.

All that mattered was the closeness of your face to his. 

Your breath grazed his face, light as a feather.

He grabbed your wrist, his thumb squeezing against your skin where he could feel your pulse racing. Fuck, he loved feeling the control he had over you; it made him harder than he already was.

Suddenly you felt bold. Raising your face to his, you let your lips linger on his for a moment without ever sealing the kiss. His whole body tensed, as if he had to restrain himself from tightening his grip on you. "Are you calling me a whore?" you asked in a calm voice, your provocative smile showing your teeth. "You're married, aren't you? I don't see why it bothers you so much what I do with my boyfriend." You'd hit a nerve. But Daemon hated being wrong, he hated being reminded of his mistakes or the hypocrisy of his behaviour. He tightened his grip. Your wrist was so small, seemed so fragile between his broad fingers. 

You had the feeling he could break it at any moment.

Daemon snorted. Now the big words. You played the innocent, you played the model daughter, but he knew exactly what was hidden behind your too well-behaved facade. Maybe he was insane. Wanting to claim you, wanting to keep you for himself, wanting to protect you from other men's eyes.  The sight of someone else's hands on your waist drove him mad. And yet you were just a passing distraction; just a way to add a little fun to his dull days and his dull marriage, just a way to satisfy a burning attraction, a primal need he couldn't satisfy any other way. 

Fuck. You were an impertinent girl with a sharp tongue, but once you were alone, he had no trouble imagining other uses for that divine tongue of yours.  You, kneeling before him, worshipping him in the most sinful way.  It was simply unholy.

But again, he wasn't a pious man. He was nothing but the devil. He didn't want redemption.

"And what about you little games?" He didn't look away, searching your face for a new trace of insolence - or perhaps a trace of sincerity, anything that would betray what you were really thinking. "I know what you're trying to do. When you deliberately bend down in front of me with that short skirt," his voice grew hoarse, covered with a veil of desire. "When you asked me to tie up the top of your swimming suit."  He could go on and on; reminding you of all the times you'd deliberately, innocently provoked him. The sound of his voice in your ear made you shiver. He let go of your wrist, his fingers moving up your body to play distractedly with the strap of your dress, his eyes roaming over your breasts. You let him, the touch of his fingers against your skin raising goosebumps all over your body.  He couldn't think of anything else but how divine you would look once that dress fell to the floor. "You're fucking asking for it," he concluded, turning his gaze to you.

"And?" You asked, your eyes lifted to his, peering out from under your long, curved lashes. You were indeed going to drive him mad. You bit your lower lip discreetly. He said nothing, the silence hanging over both of you for a moment as he pierced your soul with his icy gaze. Shadows of desire danced in his eyes. "You like to play, don't you?"

That was the spark that ignited the explosion. Something had changed, something in your dangerous games. In testing the limits again and again. In bending them, crossing them just enough to taste the intoxicating forbidden before stepping back behind that invisible protective barrier. You wanted to cross the forbidden line as much as he did, and the tension that had built up between you and him had no alternative but to explode. 

His grip tightened around your wrist, and he pulled you to him, against him.

Fuck the party.

Fuck propriety.

Fuck everyone.

He pressed his lips to yours in an urgent, desperate kiss. His hands moved to either side of your cheeks to keep your lips pressed to his. Like a man gasping for breath, he relied on your mouth, his tongue seeking a passage between your lips. You put your arms around his neck to hold him close. There was no tenderness, no love, just passion and an uncontrollable need to be pressed against each other. The kiss was rough. Unlike Jace, who kissed you tenderly as you lay on his bed, snuggled against him, Daemon wanted to assert his dominance. He wanted to take. He wanted to possess. He wanted to control. 

"We should stop," you whispered between kisses, panting, but it was a lie, you didn't want to stop. Trying to silence you, he slid his hand along your waist, down your hips, his fingers hesitant to slip under your dress - he was already imagining you soaking wet, just for him. You rubbed your thighs as the familiar sensation stirred, sending waves of heat through your core. Daemon caressed the black lace of your panties where your thigh met your centre, and you stifled a moan between his lips.

Anyone could catch you. Jace was nearby. Rhaenyra was nearby. If anyone turned their head, squinted their eyes, decided to get some fresh air on the rooftop, they could catch you by surprise. At any moment. 

People could talk, scandals could break out.  But Daemon didn't care. About his marriage. About the others. About being the centre of attention.

He had no morals, and he did the things he wanted just because he wanted to. 

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, your forehead pressed against his, your lips only inches apart. You knew what you were doing was wrong. You didn't want to think about Jace now - you didn't want to hurt him, but you were in his stepfather's arms and you weren't sure you could put an end to it. For you were like two magnets, inexorably drawn together. 

"We can't." You breathed against his lips, still brushing yours. His eyelids were closed, probably lost in desire, savouring the moment. Were you the only one with a moment's lucidity? Wasn't he supposed to be the most responsible ? He was twice your age. "We shouldn't," you tried to add as Daemon tried to capture your lips again. Behind your facade of trying to push him away, Daemon knew what you really wanted. He could feel it under his fingers; the wetness of the lace on the lingerie you were wearing betrayed your true feelings. 

And he was going to prove it to you.

"They're going to talk -" you began as Daemon pulled you by the wrist across the car park of the luxury downtown hotel. "Then let them talk," he replied coldly, tugging at your wrist to force you to move faster despite your high heels. 

You would be spotted. 

The press would create a scandal; him, cheating on his wife, cheating on the heiress of the Targaryen Corp. 

With you. You, Jacaerys Velaryon's girlfriend.

"Are you afraid?" he sneered, and you rolled your eyes at his immaturity. But you decided to play along. "I'm afraid, with your advanced age, you're not really able to keep up." He didn’t quite find that funny, because he gave you a dark glance. “You’d better watch your fucking mouth, young girl.”

Throughout the ride he had kept his hand possessively on your thigh, playing with the hem of your short dress without ever exploring too far. You bit your lower lip, barely moving your hips, subtly, seeking the warm touch of his fingers. The contact between you was electric. Your attempts at daring earned you the tightening of his grip on your thigh, squeezing your flesh. You had to put an end to it. You had to tell him to stop, to be reasonable, to turn around and take you back to the party before anyone noticed you were gone. But all you could see in Daemon's eyes was coldness and hardness.

You were already too far away. There was no turning back.

And the electric tension between you hadn't diminished - it had increased as the lift carried you up. As soon as the doors had closed, Daemon had you pinned against the wall, your legs wrapped around him, your dress pulled up, to devour your lips. One of his hands was pressed against the wall next to your head, the other firmly gripped around your waist.

Daemon hadn't done things by halves. He'd chosen a luxury hotel, a five-star place that had welcomed only prestigious guests since its opening. But the idea was as exciting as it was indecent; he was going to fuckyou in a suite that offered a panoramic view of all of King's Landing, a private spa with a Jacuzzi, and a bottle of champagne worth thousands.  And above all, in a suite that offered the peace and quiet to spend the night as he wished, with no one around to hear you scream his name.

He had chosen the best for you, nothing but the best. Perhaps that was an exaggeration. All this for a girl half his age, whom he wanted to fuck like some expensive prostitute. But why deprive himself when you, the spoiled brat that you were, were only asking for it? You had some kind of hold over him, some kind of mysterious power that made him lose his mind, but fuck, he loved it. He loved the adrenaline that came with danger, the adrenaline that came with the indecency of taking what wasn't his. 

"So what now?" He heard you mutter. You had regained your insolence as you entered the room, your arms crossed over your chest. What now. As if you didn't know what was coming next. You played innocent, but he knew that underneath your angelic exterior you were anything but naive.  He let out a deep chuckle.

What now? 

Oh, but now the fun was about to begin. Now the evening would take another turn - the one he'd been waiting for. He was going to ravish you.

He approached you with a predatory look on his face. He stood behind you, stroking your shoulders and throat with his fingertips before gathering your mass of hair to one side to free your back and neck. He pushed you forward into the room, close to the large mirror opposite the bed.

"Now you're going to undress." Daemon said, mirroring the words you'd just used in a tone that left no room for argument. He let his fingers slide down the skin of your back to the zip, which he played with, sending shivers down your spine. His lips planted kisses on the nape of your neck and slowly - very slowly - he began to pull the zip down. "I want to see you," he added. His eyes, burning with desire, met yours in the mirror. Each of his words were carefully chosen. Cold and calculated. Authoritative and paternal. You couldn't resist him, and as you slipped the straps from each shoulder, the fabric fell to the floor in a pool of satiny black. 

"You wouldn't want to keep kepus waiting, would you?" You didn't know the word - it was that ancient language for which the Targaryens had a secret. But you could imagine all sorts of meanings, given the context. A whole lot of meanings that sent waves of heat between your thighs, making you wetter than you already were...

You swallowed.

Desire pulsed through your core. It wasn't fair for this old man to have such a powerful effect on you with just a few words.

You shivered. Whether it was the chill of being almost naked in the room or the realisation that you were now at Daemon's mercy, you weren't sure. Because he was in control, he was the master of the situation, and you were now playing by his rules.

In your lingerie you were divine. The black lace hugged your skin to perfection - embracing your rounded breasts, revealing your darker nipples and rounded buttocks. A perfect mix of debauchery and innocence.  It was becoming difficult for Daemon to resist. But he had to make it last. 

Teaching you a lesson in patience and obedience was his mission for tonight.

In the reflection of the mirror, you saw his hands brush against your ribs, coming to rest on your hips. Behind you, he stood a good head taller than you. He was taller, wider too, as if to remind you of your place. What he wanted you to be. An object of his personal desire. One of his fingers slipped lower, playing with the elastic of your lace panties, never venturing beneath the fabric - never soothing the place between your thighs that throbbed too wildly. You moved your hips. You wanted more. More contact. More sensation. His fingers against your bud. 

"Stay still, little one," he replied, holding you in place, a mischievous smile stretching across his lined lips. His deep voice vibrated in the hollow of your ear. His fingers were slow, light. Painful. "I didn't say you could move." You struggled to maintain eye contact, to watch your own reflection, so vulnerable, lost in his arms, with his hands on your body, mean and possessive, when you weren't supposed to belong to him.  "Look at you," he whispered in a soft breath that made the hairs on the back of your neck quiver. Your naked body stiffened against his, still clothed.

His fingers slipped lower. You held back a moan. He stroked the spot between your thighs, finding wetness through the fabric. "Do you need kepus here, little one?" His hungry smile widened. That damn word again, that damn word you didn't know - but which seemed dangerously out of place in this situation.  You closed your eyes, and as if by reflex, your hand closed around his wrist to keep him there. You couldn't utter a word or form a coherent thought. "Looks like you lost your tongue, huh?" he added sternly.

"Shut up, old man," you manage to say in spite of everything - without answering his question. You didn't want to give him that privilege. You would have liked to come up with something else, a clever retort, or something that was so characteristic of you - just to show him that you weren't afraid to bite. But you were so lost in your pleasure that the words died in your throat.

"Old man, really?" He frowned. His fingers stopped moving. He held them against you - his forefinger through the fabric, against your entrance. Forbidding you to make the slightest movement, to move your hips, to search for friction. Forcing you to look at your own image, your reflection that proved you'd been caught playing your own game. "Then use your words like the big girl you are and tell me what you want."

Leaning forward, he let his lips brush your shoulder, one hand pulling the fabric of your panties aside to slip his fingers underneath. He wasn't going to give you what you wanted right away - not when you'd called him old man, not when you'd been insolent. His trousers had become ridiculously tight and his pulse was racing with excitement even as he tried to remain calm.  Then his fingers caressed the side of your folds - running over the soft, tender skin, carefully avoiding the little knob at the top of your thighs that would give you so much pleasure. He traced your slit, gathering irrefutable evidence that you desired him. 

You held back a moan. 

He didn't look away from your reflection as his fingers spread your folds, as he collected your wetness on his middle finger, as he finally let his thumb rest against the small hidden pearl. He could feel you weakening, your legs giving way, but he held you up with his arms, to force you to stay firmly on your feet. He wasn't finished with you. Not yet. He hadn't told you you could sit up or lie down. Nor had he told you that you could look away.

And as long as you continued to misbehave, he'd have to be the one to put you in your place.

"Eyes on me." His sharp voice echoed through the room, between the wet sounds of his fingers against the most intimate part of your body and the moans your full lips gently released. Daemon was merciful; he gave you time to obey. And it was only when you opened your eyes again, when your angelic, pleading gaze met his once more in the reflection of the mirror, that his fingers became bolder. He pressed his index and middle fingers against your entrance, tracing a few small circles before plunging inside you.

You clenched beneath him, against him, around him. 

"Look at you," he murmured, punctuating his sentences with hungry kisses that were sure to leave a purple necklace the next morning. "So wet for me. And I've only just started using my fingers." His other hand slid the strap over your shoulder, then deftly unhooked your bra to explode your chest. You felt his thumbs run over the roundness of your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. Then he withdrew his fingers from your warm den, his thumbs hooked under the elastic of your panties, and the piece of fabric that still separated him from your body fell to the floor. He admired you for a moment, before he found your crotch again, pushing his fingers inside you, curling them against the spot that made you see the stars. Just as you were about to look away, Daemon's strong hand closed around your jaw, holding your face up to your own reflection. " Do you see how well you take my fingers inside you ?".

The image reflected in the mirror was one of debauchery. You, panting, desperately trying to keep your balance. Him, behind you, fully clothed, with his fingers deep inside you.

Daemon relished the flush in your cheeks, the shudder that ran through your body, the sighs that escaped your parted lips. You had that innocent, angelic, look that he was dying to tear apart. 

Looking innocent was your weapon. A weakness you used against him, he knew it.

"Look at you, the model girl acting like a whore." He stared into the reflection where his fingers disappeared between your glistening folds. Your walls tightened - you were close, much too close. The wave of pleasure was about to overwhelm your body, and as you felt the release coming, you threw your head back to welcome it.

Your whole body convulsed.

But Daemon didn't give you time to catch your breath. 

"You're so fucking wet," he whispered as he removed his fingers from your warmth and brought them to your own lips. He spread your wetness all over them, pushing his middle and index fingers against your tongue so you could taste yourself. "So wet, just for the old man I am." 

It was naughty – perfectly naughty. The taste of your own essence permeated your taste buds as you wrapped your tongue around his fingers. 

Daemon lifted you up to throw you onto the bed, face down on the mattress, a little more roughly than he would have liked. His eyes shining with anticipation, he placed a hand on your bottom to caress the curve of it.  He wondered what would happen if it turned red.

You were still trying to catch your breath. To come to your senses after your orgasm. 

You couldn't form a single coherent thought.

"Tell me, young lady. Do you think you've been obedient enough tonight?" he asked as he sat down beside you, his hand stroking your chin in a fatherly way. "Or do you need to be punished as a reminder?"

You widened your eyes. Punished. A ball formed in your stomach - a mixture of anxiety and excitement. 

"I don't see what I did wrong," you huffed, defying him with your eyes. "I always behave well. I'm a good girl."

Daemon raised his eyebrows. "A good girl, really?" He lifted your chin, as if inspecting your face for any trace of genuineness. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Reflecting. As if thinking about the punishment he was going to give you. "Even when you came without my permission?" He paused. "I don't fucking care how good it feels, you'd better not come until I tell you to."

Oh. For that too, you needed his permission. You looked away, embarrassed. But the answer Daemon was waiting for didn't come fast enough. You felt like you'd been swimming underwater for too long - but Daemon was in no mood for patience, not tonight.  He tightened his fingers around the firm flesh of your bottom as if to signal what would inevitably happen. For whatever the answer, Daemon knew there was only one possible outcome. 

And he loved the idea.

His member throbbed with anticipation in the tight confines of his trousers, but he ignored it. His toothy grin reflected the pleasure he felt at being in control, at being the one who determined the events of the evening and their pace. He was the one who would mark you, who would make you yield, who would make your whole body sore and red and tired until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Well?" Daemon added, allowing you the kindness to catch your breath. "With your words." Perhaps he was being too soft on you. Too lenient. But in any case, you could be glad for the brief respite he gave you. Because soon you'd be whimpering again, all weepy and begging. He had a prospect he was looking forward to: reveling in your tears of pleasure and overstimulation.

You had tried to provoke him? Now you had to face the consequences. And Daemon hoped you would be able to.

"I have been exemplary. All evening." You replied, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him with your wide eyes. "And after all, you're not my father. You don't get to punish me."

Daemon's eyes fell on you, his hard face still set in sternness. His gaze still burned with the same intensity of control and danger. But behind that lustful glow, he had his usual look, the one he wore when he was pissed off. It didn't bode well for you.

"You haven't been exemplary." He hissed. "You wanted to act like a whore. So I'm going to treat you like a whore." With that, Daemon stood up. He left you there, on the bed, the product of your desire smeared on your inner thighs. Completely naked. You watched him walk away towards the vanity at the other end of the room in a heavy silence.

You were confused.

You weren't sure you understood what had happened, what was going to happen, but the danger excited you.

Once in front of the vanity, he took the time to slowly unfasten the watch from his wrist and carefully place it on the marble tabletop. He took the time to remove his wedding ring from his finger. He took the time to take off his suit jacket and place it on the back of the chair. He took the time to open the bottle of champagne in the ice cube tray and pour himself a glass. He took the time to do all this - slowly, meticulously.

As if you didn't exist.

Of course, he could feel your gaze on him, your big eyes following his every move with incomprehension. But he wanted to play with his prey, like a cat with a mouse. And it was simply delicious to feel you so unsettled, to feel yourself losing your footing, to see you become a mass of hesitation and insecurity. He was in control and that was a feeling Daemon loved more than anything.

He returned to the edge of the bed and sat down, facing the mirror. He rolled up each sleeve of his shirt over his muscular forearms and finally, he turned his attention back to you. "Come, little one," he said, patting his thigh to entice you to come closer, a ravenous smile stretching his lips. "On kepus' laps." You gulped. You moved forward slowly, like a frightened animal. "Girls like you need to be taught a lesson, don't you think? 

You felt desire grow between your thighs - the familiar tingle at your core. "What lesson, old man?" You countered, your tongue flicking out of your lips as you settled into his laps like a little girl who deserved her punishment.  But wasn't that what you were; a little girl playing in the big leagues?

Daemon took the time to trace the full shape of your ass with a warm gentleness that contrasted sharply with the act he was about to perform. His fingers explored your skin, sliding lower, between the folds that still glistened with the essence of your desire. He let his fingers roam the most sensitive part of you, of your body, gathering the evidence of what you were feeling to soak his own fingers.

"You're going to count with me," Daemon whispered in his hoarse, urgent voice. " Up to ten. You can do it, can't you?"

You mentally prepared yourself for what was about to happen, your body tensing against his. You had lost all your repartee, all your wit. You were no longer the confident, bold young woman who had provoked him all these days - you were a little girl lost in the laps of a man far too old for her. 

You took a deep breath. And the first blow came. The palm of his hand struck the skin of your bottom with a slap that broke the silence between you. "One," you murmured as he stroked the skin he'd just bruised, his fingers lingering between your folds again. You stifled a moan. "Such a good girl," he whispered into your ear. 

And then again. The touch of his palm against your skin. The pain, red and hot, delicious too, spreading through you.  Two. And again. Three. And again. Four. And again. Five.

The red that now coloured your buttocks made him even harder than he already was. It was always that feeling of control, always that feeling of dominance, always the idea of teaching you a lesson that turned him on so much. He must have been completely sick in the head, but who wasn't, in his family?

He was no ordinary man, he was a Targaryen, and he was above the ordinary people. 

He paused for a moment, his fingers venturing once more into the space between your folds to catch the dripping wetness. "Tell me, is it the thought of being punished that makes you so wet, young girl?" he asked, wiping his fingers over your thigh. You held your breath. 

Your moans grew louder, closer, as his hand met your ass once more, and Daemon knew you were struggling to stay focused. You were losing control of your mind and it was all because of him. It was perfect.

"Up to ten, I said," he pointed out with a mixture of firmness and softness in his voice. "So? How far are we?" You searched for words. How could he ask you to think, to count - even to 10 - when you were incapable of thinking clearly with his fingers there? You were too drunk with pleasure to form a coherent thought. 

But Daemon demanded that you finish the count.  Two more.  Two more, and you had to use your words to count them out loud.

"Your words, girl. Don't make me tell you twice," Daemon repeated as his fingers traced the outside of your folds before parting them, stroking your slit, applying a little pressure to your entrance with the flat of a finger before withdrawing his hand.

But there was no answer, and Daemon sighed. Silly girl, making no effort, weren't you? Perhaps he should be more patient. After all, you had endured your punishment so well, with diligence. "So demanding, and for what?” He asked, his condescending tone seeping into his every word. "Be a good girl. I know you can do it, dear one. We were at eight."

You started counting again, with difficulty. Daemon gave you the remaining two slaps to complete your punishment, and he looked at you with pride.  You had taken them, all of them, with docility. He stroked your cheek. You would no doubt have a mark the next day, judging by the pink colour that now adorned your skin. But such a sight, coupled with the sight of his essence that would soon be dripping from your entrance, was something Daemon was determined to imprint under his eyelids.

"See, it wasn't so hard after all, was it?" he asked, his voice honeyed as he caressed your lower lip with his thumb. "I'm proud of you." Your eyes were brimming with tears - of joy or pain, you couldn't really tell. Probably a bit of both. You felt exposed, you felt like a hot mess, and yet you would have gladly taken more if Daemon had asked. 

You let Daemon guide you into a sitting position, your legs falling to either side of his muscular thighs. Hiding a wince of pain, you wondered for a moment whether to curse or thank him. You couldn't form a single sentence, couldn't utter a single word. So you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring your bodies together and your lips found refuge against his. The feel of his tongue against yours was comforting. Underneath you could feel the fabric of Daemon's trousers rubbing against your bare core. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You weren't satisfied with what he had given you. 

You needed more, you needed him. Inside you.

Daemon tightened his grip on your hip, his jaw clenched. He could feel the pressure building, like a storm ready to break. He wanted to grab you by the shoulders, press you against the mattress beneath him and take what he wanted from you. Without remorse. Without a thought for you, without a thought for your own pleasure. It took all his self-control to tame his impulses. As the kiss grew more passionate, the flat of his hand settled against the nape of your neck. His hand was so large compared to your face. He was so big compared to you. Your hips moved in a long, slow motion and you looked so vulnerable, completely naked against him, spilling your wetness all over his expensive Hugo Boss trousers.

He wondered if you could feel the effect you were having on him, the growing bulge trapped in his trousers.

When you broke the kiss, he gently tucked one of your curls behind your ear. Something in him had softened, maybe a little too much. Fuck. Since when had he become soft? Since when had he become anything other than a harsh and selfish man who cared only for his own pleasure? Deep inside, an inexplicable feeling made him doubt. It was paradoxical. And it irritated him to the bone.

Keeping control had always been a way of protecting himself.

Something sparkled in your eyes, he could barely make it out - but already you were sliding to your knees, in front of him, at his feet. You were already undoing the buckle on his belt to free his hard, angry member. "Let me show you how good I can be," you whispered against the tip of his reddened member. Your fingers wrapped around his cock. It was warm in your hand, heavy. You struggled to close your grip around it. Fuck, he was large.

You brought his member to your lips, the salty taste spreading across your tongue. You traced a vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue. "Am I doing well?" you breathed as you placed a series of kisses along his hard length. It was his turn to have lost all possibility of speech - or thought - as you felt his hand digging into your hair, hardening, forcing you to take him into your mouth, and you grinned. You let him guide you. You let him encourage you to take him deeper into your throat, feeling yourself drool around him. The act was messy, filthy, but delicious. He was heavy on your tongue, and the salty taste became more pronounced as his member throbbed.

Daemon couldn't help but think that this was your place. That he wanted to keep you there for all eternity. "You're doing well," he agreed. "But if you are as good as you say, you will have to take more of it," He paused, and as if to reassure you, he placed a fatherly hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing the space where he had disappeared between your lips. "You can do it, can't you?"

But he wouldn't last long. The feel of your lips, your wet mouth around him, the sight of you on your knees would be enough to make him come. 

"Look at you," he growled. "On your knees, where you belong. Sucking kepus' cock like the whore you are." It was getting harder and harder for him not to just spill out on your tongue. He was close. He would not be long.  But he didn't want to end now, not in your mouth, not when the night was just beginning.

So he grabbed your hair and pushed you back, letting you catch your breath for a moment. You had done well. But he wasn't done with you yet. You stood up timidly, hesitant, and Daemon took his time to study your naked body. You were beautiful. Beautifully young.

"Now, on the bed, young girl," he ordered, "before I change my mind." You complied. A thick tension hovered between the two of you, the result of a forbidden game that was becoming increasingly dangerous. But Daemon loved it. He loved this game. And judging by your reactions, he wasn't the only one.

He stripped completely before joining you. His body was sculpted to perfection - and you couldn't take your eyes off him. With a tap of his index and middle fingers on your thighs, Daemon told you to spread them, which you did. 

You felt even smaller under him. 

"I'm going to enter you and you're going to take all of me." His hand caressed your cheek briefly - always that contradictory combination of softness and firmness that drove you crazy - before wrapping his hand around his own member and rubbing it against your pearl. He didn't seek to penetrate you right away. He teased you. Moving back and forth between your swollen folds. Slowly. Too slowly.

And finally, he pushed into you. The intense feel of him washed over you, stretching your opening nicely as he sank into you. He filled you in a way no one else had - he was wide. He was deep. You closed your legs around him, subtly undulating your hips to let him dive deeper. The sensation was divine.

"Such a tight little cunt," he growled. Your nails dug into his back and he grunted into the hollow of your neck, his pelvis thrusting forward to bury himself further between your walls, to split you open. To go deeper. To hit that spot inside you again and again. "Made for my cock only." You swallowed the rasp that escaped his lips, your hands searching his hair, his skin, every inch of his body.

Suddenly, Daemon emerged from your warmth and deftly flipped you onto your stomach. "On your hands and knees." Moaning, tearful, you tried to cling to the sheets with the desperation of a castaway trying to escape drowning. "Please," you begged, rolling your hips back. "I need you. Demon, please."  He chuckled.

From behind you, he lifted your chin. "Open your eyes," he ordered again, and you obeyed, finding yourself facing your own reflection. "What do you see?" he asked as he plunged into you again, his hands gripping your hips. 

The vision before you reflected nothing but lechery - Daemon moving inside you, from behind, inflicting punishing thrusts. You wanted to look away in embarrassment, your cheeks flushed, but you knew that would be disobeying Daemon's orders. 

So you watched as he ruined you.

"U-Us," you replied with a groan. You wouldn't last long. "Us," Daemon repeated. But your answer wasn't enough - wasn't good enough for him.  "And what are we doing, little one?" 

Your cheeks were on fire. Your whole body was on fire. The words he was waiting for couldn't pass your lips. It was too much. Everything was too much. "We are..." The words were confused. They jumbled in your head. "You're - you're...fucking me," you stammered. Daemon rolled his hips harder, deeper, while his fingers sought out your little bud to accompany his thrusts. "Such bad words for a pretty mouth like yours," Daemon reprimanded you, emphasising his words with a particularly brutal thrust. You closed your eyes.

You were about to –

"No, young girl. Not yet. First, I want you to look at yourself taking me so well." Your eyes met his in the mirror. His movements became jerkier, your breathing more panting. "Daemon, please," you begged, not really knowing what you were asking. You felt his fingers. You felt his member inside you. You felt his warm chest against your back. You felt too much.

"Now you're going to be a good girl and keep everything I'm going to give you inside you," Daemon grunted, between erratic movements that became more and more slippery. Your intimate walls were squeezing him perfectly and he wished the feeling would never end.  “I wonder what your boyfriend would say –“

As your climax washed over your entire body, you collapsed onto the mattress. Daemon quickly followed, pulling your hips up against him to bring your pelvis against his, and he poured himself into you, his hot seed flowing between your warm walls. He lay still for a moment, savouring the bliss of his own release.

You winced as he pulled out and lay back on the bed beside you. "You've made a mess," he said as you felt the combination of your fluids running down your thigh to the sheet. "And whose fault is that, old man?" you grumbled as you instinctively lay down next to him, seeking comfort in snuggling up to him, curled up against his chest. "Yours," he replied.  He put an arm around you to keep you close. 

"Daemon, I wanted to tell you -" you started, but you could feel that he was somewhere else. His body was tense, his jaw clenched, his head full of thoughts that eluded you, and you wanted to ask him what was wrong. 

What had caused this change in his demeanour? 

He'd had you in bed. He'd ruined you. He'd fucked you unholy. He made you feel things even Jace couldn't.

So why did he suddenly seem so distant?

The comfort you sought was short-lived. Daemon was already reaching into his suit jacket to grab his pack of cigarettes. Throwing his shirt over his shoulders, he walked over to the window and took a deep drag. You looked at him, your heart sinking. It was stupid. It was stupid what you were about to say and you immediately put it out of your mind.

He was married and you were young enough to be his daughter, what interest could he have in you other than a forbidden one-night stand?

Daemon didn't look back. He tried to reassure himself that it was just a void he was trying to fill. A fantasy he had fulfilled; corrupting you. He wasn't the romantic type. He wasn't the type to fall in love - his marriage was proof of that. He tired of people easily.  He wasn't a good person.

But perhaps the game between you two had gone too far, and the idea frightened Daemon more than ever. He'd thought he could just take what he wanted - be satisfied with that and then send you back to your routine. But when he saw you in bed, naked between the sheets, his heart skipped a beat. He hated the idea.

Because he wasn't sure he was in control of the situation anymore.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello!

My name is moukies (she/they), and I am a queer/trans Black editor who specializes in sensitivity readings and cultural consultations. Pleased to e-meet you! :)

I am looking to build my roster of clients, and have created my own service, moukies editing, with the express intent of promoting my skillset and establishing myself as a freelance editor.

If you don't know what sensitivity readings are, they are essentially having someone with the lived experiences of your characters (for example, black characters, gay characters, non-binary characters, Muslim characters, disabled characters, etc.) read over your manuscript and point out what they feel is realistic, authentic, and resonates with them, as well as areas of improvement and stereotypes that are harmful and reductive in nature.

The purpose of a sensitivity reader is to help you avoid those pitfalls and polish your manuscript with the experience and authenticity of someone who shares the identity of your characters.

If you book with me, you can expect in-line comments within your document (preferably Word (.docx) format, please), as well as a write-up at the end. My aim is to ask you pointed questions, help you realize areas you excel in and areas you could work on, and get you to think critically and be introspective about some unconscious biases or habits you may fall into within your writing.

If that sounds of interest to you and you would like to work with me, please send me an inquiry at moukiesediting@gmail.com, and tell me about the story, the word count (this is crucial), what you're looking for in a sensitivity read (specifically if there's any characters you want me to pay special attention to), and how soon (or late) you'd like it returned. Default turnaround time is two (2) weeks, which is rather speedy since the norm is 3 - 4 weeks!

You can also find out more in my pinned tweet, and for those of you with curious minds and who like exhaustive detail (including genres/mediums I read for and my rates), you can find that under the cut!

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Have a wonderful morning, day, afternoon, evening, or night!! :) 💕💝❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜💖🤍🩶🤎🖤

I have been doing this for several years now, and I would like to do it full-time because I'm good at it. Like, damned good at it. Not only has it reinvigorated my childhood love for reading and voracious appetite for literature, it also allows me to channel my critical thinking skills towards your works and help parlay that into something that benefits both you and me.

I've edited manuscripts for everyone from independent writers to those repped by publishers like Penguin Random House, Macmillan, HarperCollins, and more. I excel at what I do, and now I want to do it for you!

My preferred genres are fiction and specifically fantasy, but I will read pretty much anything. I also read for erotica and NSFW stuff, as well as fanfiction, so if you want to feel secure that your black and/or queer characters aren't harmful depictions, then I'm your go-to pal for that.

Payment is based on word count, and my rate is $0.009/word. I usually have a turn-around time of two weeks, but that might scale depending on the length of your manuscript. I work on a half-up front, half-upon completion system (or alternatively, you can pay in full upfront if you'd like), and payment can be received here. The email for paypal payments is sa.bouraleh@gmail.com or PayPal.me/sabouraleh, in case the links don't work on mobile.

If you want a quicker turn around time, I can most likely accommodate that, at anywhere from a 1.25 to 1.5x multiplier of my rate, depending on just how fast you want the feedback returned to you. Next day feedback is possible, in some cases, but is of course subject to the multiplier.

If you have ever donated to me in the past, send me a screenshot of it and you'll get a 10% discount off your first two reads. If you like what I do and am satisfied with the result, please do recommend me to your friends, I'm always looking to take on clients.

I do reserve the right to decline a project, and if I find the material within the manuscript extremely objectionable, I reserve the right to cancel and refund you. I am not easily disturbed, however, but I thought I'd mention that anyways.

Here is a list of stuff I read for. I'll also include the two levels of edits I do, "Write-Up" (this is shorter and quicker, with no in-line comments), and "Sensitivity Read" (this is the premium package with the in-line comments, thought-provoking/armour-piercing questions, guaranteed to make you do some introspection, and write-up at the end).

What I read for:

The following are topics (and genres) I’m willing to read for. If something is not listed here, it doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t read for it! I am definitely willing to broaden my horizons, so feel free to ask.

Topics:

Race (Black)

Ethnicity (Somali)

Religion (Islam)

Sexuality (Queer)

Gender (Non-binary, trans)

Mental Health (ADHD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, OCD)

Disabilities (Physical, IBS, GERD)

Body Image Issues

Gender Identity Issues

Abuse (Domestic, Physical, Emotional, Mental, CSA)

Racism/Anti-Blackness (microaggressions, discrimination, dehumanization)

Poverty

Islamophobia

Homophobia

Transphobia

Genres/Mediums

Fantasy (Especially Urban Fantasy)

Noir/Neo-Noir

Sci-Fi

Thriller

Mystery

Whodunnit

LGBTQ+ (anything queer, especially MLM)

Children's Books

Young Adult

Comic Books

Manga

Anime

Video Games

Geek Fandom

In addition to original fiction, I also read for fan fiction and erotica/NSFW content.

SERVICES OFFERED

Write-Up

No, not like when you get in trouble at work! (You won’t get in trouble, I promise.) In academic terms, think of the write up or a full-sensitivity read as a peer-reviewed work, vetted by those with the expertise in the relevant experience(s).

This is the simplest service I offer. I read your work and write-up my thoughts. This includes areas I think you did well, and areas of improvement.

The content contained within the edits are suggestions, not expectations for change, and it is ultimately your work and your decision as to whether or not to incorporate the feedback.

Turn-around time is usually two weeks, but depending on the length or requested turn around time, this is subject to change.

Quicker requested turn-arounds are subject to a 1.25x to 1.5x multiplier, depending on how soon you would like the material returned with my notes.

I work on a half upfront, half upon completion payment model, via PayPal only. You can pay in full upfront, if you so desire.

The price for this is $0.007 USD/word.

Sensitivity Reading

The fact that you’re even here indicates your desire to do right by the marginalized communities represented in your work. That shows your intentions are good, and I would be delighted to help make your literary dreams come true.

You will receive in-line comments and feedback as I read through your piece, as well as a detailed Editor’s Letter, explaining areas of strength and pin-pointing areas of improvement, as well as suggestions for how to resolve any issues raised.

As always, the feedback are ultimately only suggestions as opposed to expectations, and you are free to choose what you take away from the feedback provided.

Turn-around time is usually two weeks, but depending on the length or requested turn around time, this is subject to change. Quicker requested turn-arounds are subject to a 1.25x to 1.5x multiplier, depending on how soon you would like the material returned with my notes.

I work on a half upfront, half upon completion payment model, via PayPal only. You can pay in full upfront, if you so desire.

The price for this is $0.009 USD/word.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Y/n gets sick of people making comments about her being single while at a work event and ends up asking her best friend, Sam, to pretend to be her date for the weekend.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, alcohol consumption, reader being around judgmental people, flirting, kissing, hair pulling, biting, unprotected quickie, mix of sensual fluff and general filth, friends to lovers basically

Word Count: 9.8k | not really edited

Thank you for being so patient with me 🖤

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

"Don't you leave for that work trip thingy today?" Your best friend, Lilly asks as you finish your breakfast. You nod, "Uh huh." You roll your eyes with a sigh, "A weekend with a bunch of high class bitches who like to judge everyone around them and show off their sugar daddy hubbies."

"That sounds... awful.. but you get your own hotel room, don't you?" She leans onto the counter and you nod, "Oh yeah. It's a beautiful one, too. Here."

You pull your phone out to show her the hotel, "Oh god." She gasps and begs, "Take me with you!"

You laugh slightly, "I could if I would, but the only plus ones that are allowed is the significant others." You shake your head slightly, "Which is stupid."

"I'll be your significant other." She walks around, pressing her cheek to yours, "We can be lesbian lovers for the weekend." She laughs and you sigh, "We could probably pull it off, honestly."

She snaps her fingers and points at you, "Exactly." She stares at you for a second, "Why don't you see if Sam will go?"

You stare back at her, "Wh-what? why would you even-"

She cuts you off, "I know you like him." She smirks and glances up at you, "I can see it all over you when you're around him. When his name is mentioned.."

"He's my best friend, Lilly." You scoff slightly, "I don't think he'd wanna share a hotel with me for three days."

She raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. You tilt your head, "What's that look for?"

She shakes her head slowly, "No reason.."

"There's a reason. I know you." You move your bowl aside and rest your elbows on the counter, "Now spill."

She drags her finger in circles on the counter, "Colby and I may have had a little meeting, as the best friends of the people who like each other."

Your heart picks up and you blink, shaking your head as you try to understand what she just said, "Excuse me? You and Colby what?"

She laughs, "Oh come on. He can see it all over Sam, too. You guys.. like.. really need to understand the meaning of having a poker face." She snorts, "Especially around each other."

"Wait..." you hold your hand up, closing your eyes, "are you saying that Sam likes me?" You look at her and she nods, "And you like him."

"I never said that." You say quickly and she gently slaps the counter, "You don't need to, because as I just said, you have a horrible poker face when it comes to him. I can see that you're seething with love for him right now."

You roll your eyes, "Whatever you say."

"I say, that you guys are just scared, and one of you needs to just risk it for the biscuit because you both are head over heels for each other." Lilly stands up, "I have a photoshoot, so if i don't see you before you leave, good luck. I hope you get an award or whatever it is they're passing out. Call me when you get there."

"It's literally forty five minutes away and we're not done talking about this." You laugh and she shrugs, "I still worry." She smiles and grabs her jacket as she walks to the door, "and we are until I know you can just admit it. Love you, see ya!"

"Love you, see ya!"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Good luck tomorrow, y/n. Remember, even if you don't get an award, you're still a winner to us.

You can't help but smile at Sam's message, and that quickly leads into replaying this mornings conversation with Lilly.

You did like Sam, a lot.

But, you always thought there was way too much history with each other, and if it went to shit, you'd lose all the good things with him.

Besides Lilly, Sam knows you like the back of his hand. You grew up together, basically.

Which gets you into thinking about what exactly him and Lilly talked about, you and Sam obviously, but did Sam really like you, too?

"Miss... miss?"

You look up from your phone screen and the driver is looking back at you.

He smiles slightly, "Is this the place?"

You look out the window, getting a nauseated feeling as you nod, "Yeah, yeah it is." You look back at him, "I'll tip you on the app if that's okay?"

He nods, "I appreciate it. Have a good night."

You smile and nod, "Thank you. You too." You get out, grabbing your suitcase before you shut the door and slowly turn around to face the entrance of the very fancy hotel, "Just two nights." You whisper as you force yourself to walk into the building, "Just two nights."

You walk up to the desk, and right off the bat you felt like you were judge for being alone.

Everyone had their arm candies and you just had your suitcase.

"Hi, will you be checking in?" The lady behind the desk asks, "just you, I assume?" You clench your jaw and swallow, "Yeah, just me, for now." You step forward as you talk quietly, "Y/n y/l/n."

"You're under the reserved rooms for Brookendale." Her eyes move up to you and you nod, "That's right."

She doesn't say another word until she grabs your room key, "usually you get two.. but.." her eyes move down to your suitcase and you wanted to just turn around and go home, "Actually. Someone will be joining me later. He's just working late tonight."

She raises her eyebrows, seeing right through your empty lie, "Mm. Enjoy your stay, miss y/l/n."

You snatch the key from her grasp and make your way to the elevator, pressing the up arrow and praying that the doors open quickly.

As they open, you stop when you see Carmen Kline. The bosses favorite employee, "Ah, y/n! I'm so glad you could make it!"

Carmen was usually alright, but once she got around those certain type of people, she because a totally different person.

"Yeah. Im here." You laugh slightly as you get on. She leans back, "You should totally come down for drinks. Zack is buying us all our first one, but I'm sure we can milk him for a couple more." She nudges you as she giggles and you can smell that she's already had a few.

"Maybe once I get settled." You glance over at her with a smile and point to the doors as they open, "I'll see you later maybe."

"Yes please come down!" She yells as the doors shut and you keep walking, stopping at your door and going in as quickly as you can.

You press your back against the shut door and let out a sigh, the thought of doing what Lilly said to do was heavy on your mind.

You chew on your lip, pulling your phone out as you FaceTime her.

"Glad you made it there okay." She says as she answers, "You okay?"

You laugh slightly, "The lady at the desk already ridiculed me for coming alone, so it's going wonderfully." Your words dripping with sarcasm, "I fucking hate these things. It's been three years and I never win anyway."

"Maybe this time it'll be different." She says and you sigh, "doubt it." You walk over to the bed, lifting your suitcase onto it, "Since I have you, can you help me to decide on which dress to wear?"

"Um, yes. Of course!" She sets her phone down and sits down, watching the screen as you pull out two dresses, "okay.. this one?"

You hold up the spaghetti strap black velvet mini dress, "Or.." you grab the other dress, the black lace corset mini dress, "This one?"

"Definitely that one." She says with zero hesitation, "isn't that the one you designed yourself?"

"I sure did." Your eyes scan over the dress in your hands and you sigh, "I really like this one."

"I'm sure Sam will like it too." She teases and you can feel your cheeks getting warm, "Stop it."

"I'm just joking. You know I have to." She laughs and sighs, "which one are you wearing for the awards tomorrow night?"

You smirk and pull out the sparkly maroon gown, "This. Zack said we have to dress fancy and I figured this was fancy enough."

"And hot." Lilly says, "I remember you trying that on after you were done with it. It looked so good on you."

You smile, "Thanks." You check the time, "Alright. I have to get ready and head down for whatever the hell it is we're doing.. the mixer bullshit thingy."

"Call me later."

"So I can tell you how awful it went?" You laugh and she sighs, "I'm telling you.. ca-"

"Bye! Love you!" You hang up on her and throw your phone down before changing into the black dress with the lace corset.

You curled your hair before you left, so you just needed to touch that up, along with redoing your makeup.

You slipped your heels on and walk over to the body mirror, turning to each side as you inspect yourself.

You snap a few mirror selfies before you tuck your phone and room key into your purse and walk over to your door.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves before you open it and walk over to the elevator. To your surprise, when the doors open, you see Zack standing there, smiling at you, "Hello, y/n."

"Hello, Mr. Brookendale." You give him a smile and step onto the elevator.

"Y/n. You can call me Zack." He chuckles, "Going to the mixer?" He turns his body so it's facing you. You look over at him, nodding, "Yes. Are you?"

He chuckles, "Now what kind of question is that?"

You laugh slightly, "Of course you're going."

Zack has always been flirty with you, which you didn't like, but he's never actually tried anything, then again, he's flirty with all the other girls who work for him.

"Of course I am." He smirks, "My company, right?" His smug look makes you want to round house him, but you just play it off with a gentle laugh, "That it is, Zack. That it is."

You started thinking about Sam. About how if he was here, Zack would possibly have a whole different attitude towards you and Sam could play the protective boyfriend or whatever.

The ding of the elevator snaps you out of your daze and you look up as the doors open. As you step forward, you feel a hand lay on the center of your back and he leans in slightly, whispering, "That dress is gorgeous, by the way."

You swallow, nodding, "Thank you. I designed it myself."

"I know you did." He winks and walks off, leaving you to follow behind him alone. You walk up to the table, letting the people know you're here for the mixer and they direct you into the side room.

You walk in, immediately grabbing a glass of champagne from the tray, "Please. Yes. Thank you."

The waiter nods and walks away as you practically down the drink in one gulp.

"Thirsty or something?" Carmen asks walking up to you. You force a smirk and shrug, "I just don't really want to be here."

"You'll be fine. Now come on." She grabs your hand and pulls you through the room, not giving you a chance to escape.

The whole time you're following her, you're mentally cursing at her because you know what she's pulling you into.

It's the same thing every year.

You show up without a date, you get judged for showing up without said date, even though the girls think they're being discreet, they're absolutely not.

"Hey!" Carmen says loudly in a sing songy tone, "Look who I found!"

"Oh y/n! We were wondering when you'd get here." Alexa says bringing her glass to her lips. You fight hard on not rolling your eyes, "Yeah, yeah.. here I am."

You look around, grabbing another glass of champagne off the tray that's moving by and immediately bringing it to your lips.

"Carmen said she seen you on the way here, but.." Alexa giggles slightly, "So.. do we get to meet this mystery man that you're being so private about?"

Fuck, you think, why do they have to remember that?

You laugh slightly, "Maybe. Maybe. He's actually working late tonight, so if not tonight, tomorrow for sure."

You could knock yourself out. Literally.

"We're all excited to meet him." Alexa says and looks around at the other overly dressed girls, "Aren't we?"

They all agree, "Yeah, we just don't know why you won't tell us about him." Deana says, but her tone of voice screams that they don't believe you.

Which they shouldn't because you have been totally lying about this mystery man the whole time.

"I like to keep things private. You know how it is." You sip your drink and Deana laughs slightly, "yeah.. privacy is important, but at the same time, doesn't that get suffocating? I mean you don't have any posts about him on Facebook, Instagram.. I mean.. come on, y/n."

So you've been stalking me.. nice, is what you wanted to say, but instead you force a smile, "I'll see you guys later." You turn and walk away, and you can hear Carmen scolding them, but it quickly turns into laughter.

What a surprise.

You roll your eyes and walk up to the bar, sitting down so you can check your phone. You click on Lilly's name and start typing, but you stop when you remember you never answered Sam.

You go out and click on Sam's name and start typing your message, Hey. I have a question.

You shove your phone back into your purse, hoping that drinking the rest of your drink will give you the ounce of confidence you need to ask Sam.

You didn't think he'd say no. He'd do anything for you.

The kicker is, if he says yes. You both have to play the part, and you have to play it good.

You feel your purse vibrate, so you pull your phone out, reading Sam's message, I may have an answer. What's up?

You chew on your lip as you circle your fingers above your keyboard, unsure of how to ask, Can I call you quick?

Before you even have a second to think about what you're going to say, you see Sam's face pop up on your phone and you smile.

You stand up, walking out of the room as you answer, "Hey."

"How's it going? Need me to come rescue you yet?" Sam chuckles but that wasn't perfect lead way, "Um.. actually.."

"Uh oh. What happened?"

"Can you do me a favor?" You look around as you walk away to a lesser crowded area, "It's a huge and.." you laugh, "..a very weird favor."

"I'm listening." He pauses, waiting for you to ask your favor and you shake your hand slightly, rubbing your sweaty palm against your thigh, "Can you come here?"

"You want me to come there? Like right now?" He asks kinda surprised. You regret asking until he speaks, "What do I need to pack?"

"Wait. You're actually coming?" You ask and he scoffs, "you sound shocked, like I wouldn't do anything for you."

You smile and nod, "yeah, well.. there's.. um.. here's the things.." you sigh and just spit it out, "I need you to pretend to be my fiancé or whatever." You quickly follow up, "please don't ask. I'll explain it when you get here. Or later. Sometime just.. fancy. Dress fancy and nice, these people will eat you alive if you come in your xplr merch."

He laughs, "They must not know fashion then."

"Yeah, I guess not. Do you want me to send you what I'm wearing now so you can coordinate or whatever?" You ask, a nervous feeling washing over your body.

"Yeah, you can. Just so I can get a feel for how fancy I need to pack quick."

You can tell you're on speaker now and he's working on packing. You loved how much he cared about you and would drop everything, if he could, for you.

You honestly loved him for how he is in general, though.

"Okay..." you go out, sending him the picture you took before coming down, "Sent. And when you get here, Sam.." you pause, laughing anxiously, "Tell them you are here as my plus one and that you were working late."

"Tell them I was working late?" He repeats and you sigh, "Like I said.. I'll explain everything when I see you."

"Fine, fine. I gotta let Colby know I'm leaving. I'll be there in like an hour or so."

"Thank you. You're the best." You smile at the ground and he sighs, but you can tell he's smiling, "I know." He laughs, "I'll text you when I'm almost there."

"Thank you."

"Welcome. See you soon."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The next hour felt utterly painful.

It was dragging by so, so slow for you and you just wanted Sam there already.

Your phone vibrates and you lift it, smiling as you read his text, Pulling up now. I'll take my bag to the room then come back down.

You type back quick, Tell the lady at the desk to go fuck herself while you're at it.

You may have gotten a stronger drink, so therefore, you weren't in any mood to deal with the judgement comments from anyone anymore.

Harsh, but I'll see what I can do lol, you laugh at his text and shake your head, grabbing your drink as you move through the room, talking to people who actually enjoy seeing you.

You mainly talk about your dress, other designs you have coming along.

The fashion industry usual.

You can tell your mood changed the second Sam said he would come, but it changed even more when you seen him walk in.

He's wearing his black short sleeve button up, black and white striped pants with his white shoes and he just looks absolutely incredible.

A huge smile spreads across your face as you walk over to him. His eyes lock onto yours, a smile growing on his lips as he walks towards you.

"There you are." He says and brings you in for a hug, "How's it going?"

"Better, now that you're here." You look up at him and he glances from your drink to your face, "Sure it's not from whatever you're drinking?"

You shrug, "Maybe." You smirk and turn as you hear Carmen talking, and it's growing closer, "Y/n."

You lean into Sam slightly, sliding your arm around him and his arm slides around your waist, "Carmen, this is Sam, my fiancé. Sam, my coworker Carmen."

"Sam." She says as she looks him up and down, "I honestly feel like I know who you are I just.." she looks him up and down, "Can't put my finger on it."

He chuckles and shrugs, "I get that a lot." His thumb runs slow and gently up and down your waist, "I need a drink, excuse us." He turns, moving you with him and he leans in more, "How good do we have to play the part?"

You look up at him, "We have to fully commit to this. But only if you're okay with it."

"That's good because..." he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring, "You said fiancé, and I noticed in your picture you send you didn't have one on and Lilly told me how judgmental these people are so.."

Your lips part slightly as you watch him slip the ring on your finger, "I'm so glad you thought of that because I didn't even.." you laugh slightly, kinda flustered, "Thanks."

He nods, "Mhm." His eyes stay on you as you lean forward to order your drink. He looks away when you look back and you lean in, "What do you want?"

"Get whatever." He smiles and you nod, looking back to the bartender, "Two of them please."

Just as you turn back to Sam, Deana walks up with Carmen and Alexa, "So, this is the mystery man she kept us from knowing about."

Her ring covered fingers reach out and grab his hand, "I'm Deana. I work in the same department as y/n."

Sam glances down at her hand and back up to you. You give him a subtle look, indicating that she's one of the bitches who's always on you with the comments and shit.

He takes his hand away, pulling you closer, "Yeah?"

Deana nods, "You know she doesn't talk about you right?"

"Deana." You sigh and Sam chuckles, "We like to keep things private, you know. It's more intimate between us, the less the public knows.." he glances over at you with a smile, "The better."

Deana didn't like that she wasn't getting to Sam, "Mm. Yeah, I mean.. to each their own I guess." She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head as she shrugs.

"How long have you been together?" Alexa pries, following up quickly with, "I'm just curious."

"I've known her, basically my whole life." Sam nods, "We grew up together and one thing led to another and now we're getting married here soon."

You smile, laying your hand on his abdomen.

"Hm, really?" Alexa raises a brow, "Here I thought you were just a lonely gal." Her eyes move up and down Sam, "But now I can see that you're just a gal who got really lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You straighten up and she smirks, but Sam cuts her off before she can add anything, "If anyone is lucky here, it's me. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Sam kisses your temple and you can feel your cheeks heating up again as you smile.

"I'm proud of her." He smiles at Alexa and Deana and they say nothing, "Did you design your dress too?"

Alexa clenches her jaw and sighs, "No, but it's fro-"

"Alright, well now that this is over, we should take our seats because Zack will be up to announce the nominees." Carmen cuts in, pushing them away as she turns around mouthing a quick, "Sorry."

You turn to Sam, "See what I mean."

He brushes hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear as his eyes scan over your face, "You don't deserve that, so I'll do whatever it takes to get them off your back."

You wanted to admit that you liked him, you wanted to come clean about everything but by the time you got enough courage to blurt it out, the microphone omits a high pitched screech and Zack clears his through, "If everyone would take their seats please.. I'm about to announce the nominees."

You grab your drink, along with Sam grabbing his and you make your way to your table.

He moves his chair closer to yours and lays his arm over the back of it, around you.

If it wasn't for you asking him to pretend for the weekend, you would honestly think you and Sam are actually together.

"You're nominated for something right?" Sam asks leaning in, and his face is so close to yours if you turn you could kiss him.

You nod, "I think so. I wasn't told for sure, but I think." You shrug and turn your head slightly towards him, "Not a big deal if I'm not."

His fingers gently rubbing your arm as he sips on his drink, "It'll happen, babe. I'm sure of it. They'd be stupid not to give you something."

You smile and bring your drink up to your lips, mainly because you were jittery about him calling you babe. No one was around, so that was all him.

After a few categories and the people nominated are announced, you start to have this feeling that your name is going to be said.

"The nominees for the Creative Genius are.. Deana Till.." Zack pauses as people clap and you sigh, "Of course."

"Carmen Kline.."

Everyone claps, including you. You genuinely liked Carmen, and she surprised you tonight by not joining in on their ridiculing crusade.

"Y/n y/l/n."

Even thought you had a feeling it was coming, you're still shocked and Sam gently grabs your shoulders, "That's you, babe!"

The name makes your heart skip a beat, again. You cared more about that than being nominated for an award you probably won't win.

You smile, looking from his eyes to his lips before Carmen comes up to you, "Who would have ever thought that we'd be running against each other! Ah! I'm so excited for tomorrow night!" She sits down and looks up at you, "How do you feel?"

You look over at her, slightly shrugging your shoulders, "I mean.. I probably won't have a reaction until we find out who gets the award tomorrow, but.. yeah. Good I guess."

You look back at Sam and he smiles, "You're so gunna win, babe. I know it." He brings his drink up to his lips and Carmen groans, "You guys are so cute, just stop it."

She smiles and nods back to her table, "I have to go find my hubs before he spends all our money at the bar."

She gets up and walks away and you look at Sam, "Don't you just love my coworkers."

He chuckles, "You work in a high class fashion industry, darling. I wouldn't expect it any differently."

You raise your eyebrow and nod, no longer talking about work, "some days I wish it was."

"Yeah.. I know what you mean." He finishes his drink and you look at him, "You hunt ghosts, Sam." You laugh and he sighs, "It's hard work, you need to come with us one of these times."

You shake your head and hold your hand up, "I'm good."

"I'll be there to protect you." He smiles and pokes your shoulder as he leans in, "It's not bad... sometimes."

"Exactly. You never know." You take a sip of your drink and check the time, "Does that mean we can leave? I need out of this godforsaken dress."

He looks around, "I see other people leaving so.. I would assume we can."

You look over at him, "Do you want to leave?"

He smirks, "I'll do whatever you want, fiancé." He winks and stands up, "M'lady." He holds his hand out and you can't help but smile and take his hand.

As you're walking out, Carmen stops you at the door, "Hey, y/n. Wait up."

"Yeah?" You ask looking at her. She smiles, "we were just going to dinner." She motions to Zack, "I want you and Sam to join us."

You glance over at Sam and he shrugs, "I haven't eaten yet." You nod and look back at Carmen, "Where at?"

"Just right down the hall." She points and you nod, "We'll follow you." You keep ahold of Sam's hand as you follow them out the doorway.

"So fiancé, huh?" Zack says as he glances back, "How long has that been a thing?"

"I proposed recently, actually. It was a private thing, on the beach where we went all the time as kids."

You were surprised with how fast Sam came up with responses, but at the same time, he knew you.

He knew you well.

"That's so sweet!" Carmen pushes her bottom lip out and you smile, "Yeah. I didn't expect it, really. We go there as much as we can, it just never occurred to me that this would have happened.." you hold up your ring and Carmen pouts, "I'm sure it was beautiful. Do you have any pictures?"

Carmen looks between you and Sam, and Sam Saves your ass, "I do, but they're all on my laptop at home. The photographer recently just sent the rest to us."

"Can't rush perfection, am I right?" She laughs and Zack holds his hand out, "Stay right here."

You look at Carmen with a weird look as he walks away from you and she shrugs, "I have no idea. But I understand. You'll have to send them to me, y/n. I'd love to see them. I'm such a sucker for cute engagement pictures."

"Engagement pictures? Oh I'd love to see them too, y/n.." Alexa says walking up with her husband, glued to her side. 

"They just got them back, Lex. Lay off, okay." Carmen sticks up for you but Alexa just snorts, "I still don't believe this. There's just something..." she looks you up and down, smirky smugly, "Fishy.. about all of this."

"You can think what you want.. but I'm real. I'm here. So there's no need to be a bitch towards, y/n." Sam's words shock you, but also set a fire inside of you.

You love when he sticks up for you.

You always have.

Alexa snaps her head back slightly, "Excuse me?" Sam laughs, "Clearly, you heard me." His grip tightens on your waist and you lay a hand on his chest, "Baby, it's fine."

He looks down at you and you smile, "It's not worth it."

"What's going on out here?" Zack asks walking back out, looking at Alexa. She shakes her head, "Nothing. Nothing at all." She rolls her eyes and pulls her miserable looking husband with her, quietly yelling at him because he didn't stick up for her.

"Sorry, Sam." Carmen furrows her brows and frowns, "She can be a little..ehh."

He shakes his head, "Don't sweat it. We get that a lot actually."

"Really?" She asks and he nods but Zack cuts in, "Our tables are ready."

You all walk in, expecting to be sat in a booth, but you're led to a whole other table, kind of away from everyone else and it's decorated with scattered rose petals and a lit candle, "What is this?" You look at Sam and he shrugs.

Zack walks up between you and Sam, "I'd like to congratulate one of my favorite employees on her engagement." He lays a hand on Sam's shoulder, "You're a very lucky man."

Sam smiles and nods, "I am." He locks eyes with you, "Very, very lucky."

At this point, you weren't sure if you were just pretending, or if the truth was slowly coming out.

"Well.. dinner is on me tonight, as a congratulations. Enjoy it." He smiles and walks back over to Carmen and you look at Sam, "Free dinner? Hell yeah."

He walks around, moving your chair out for you and helping you scoot in, "Good?"

You nod, "Good." He walks to his seat, sitting down and looking over the menu, "this place is way too fancy, I can't even pronounce that."

You laugh slightly and shake your head, biting your lip as you look over the menu for yourself, "I know right? It's a lot of fancy for me, too."

You lean back in your chair and look up at him, "I have a confession."

"Oh, I love a good confession." He leans forward and stares at you, elbows on the table, "Hit me."

You laugh and lean forward, "Lilly gave me the idea to do this.. I just wasn't sure if you'd actually do something like this. But I guess I thought wrong."

He smiles and shakes his head, "Yeah, her and Colby have meetings about us apparently."

"You know about those, too!?" You lean back slightly and scoff, "Well.."

"Well?" Sam tilts his head and you look up at him, "I guess now a a good time to-"

"Hello, sorry about the wait. My name is Luis, I'll be taking care of you guys tonight."

"Hello." You smile up at him and Sam nods, also smiling, "Hey, how are you?"

Luis nods, "I'm great since I've been giving the pleasure of taking care of the newly engaged couple, can I get you guys started with some on the house drinks?"

You and Sam look over the drink options and order and Luis nods, "I'll be right back with those."

You look back at Sam, "We should do this more often." You laugh and Sam nods, smiling as he thinks about doing it for real one day, "Yeah, yeah we should."

You pull your phone out, "Smile this is going to both Lilly and Colby."

Sam laughs as you take the picture. The rose petals scattered in front of him make the picture even better.

"Such a cutie." You smile at him and look down at your phone as you send the picture to your friends, "They'll love this."

You put your phone away and rest your chin in the palm of your hand, "so back to-"

"Here we are." Luis sets the glasses down and leans up, "Are we ready to order?" You look at Sam and he nods, "I am if you are."

You nod and look at Luis, ordering before Sam does. Luis nods, "I'll put that right in."

"Okay." You look at Sam and sigh, "Before we get interrupted.. again." You laugh slightly and lean in as you whisper the truth, "I like you a lot, but I'm just scared that if we tr-"

Sam cuts you off by leaning over and pulling you to him. His lips press to yours and you immediately give into him, laying a hand on his arm as your lips move slowly together.

"I've been waiting years to do that." He whispers before leaning back, "You have no idea."

You smile, "Trust me. I think I do." You lean back in, pressing your lips to his and he smiles within the kiss, "I've been in love with you the minute I saw you. I was just so scared to tell you and then we became such good friends."

You lay a hand on his cheek, "I know the feeling, Sam." You smile and lean back, your cheeks filling with a deep pink tint as he continues to stare at you.

"You are.. amazing." He reaches out, taking your hand in his, "You deserve this award and even if you don't get it.. we'll get you one made."

"You don't have to do that." You shake your head and Sam sighs, "you deserve it, y/n. You are so beyond talented and smart, I mean hell, look at what you're wearing."

You glance down at your dress, absolutely speechless.

"You are going to go far, and I'm so beyond happy that I get to watch you turn into such a successful.. hold on.." he bites his lip, squeezing your hand and you look up at him.

"I'm so beyond happy that I get to watch my girlfriend become successful in what she loves doing." He smiles and your heart rate picks up, "Girlfriend?"

"Well, fiancé, for the weekend, but yeah." He smirks and brings your hand up to kiss it, "I'm so proud of you."

The rest of dinner was a blur, but a good and happy blur. You felt like you were floating, maybe it was the three drinks on top of what you had at the mixer, but you knew you were genuinely happy.

As you stand up, you notice Carmen and Zack are gone, "I'll tell them thank you tomorrow." Sam wraps his arm around your waist and leads you out and to the elevator.

He stands behind you as you wait, arms wrapped around you with his chin on your shoulder, "Guess we're done pretending, huh?"

You nod with a sigh, leaning back into him, "I guess we are."

The doors open and you step in, assuming the position you were just in after pressing the button, "Sorry I was so scared before."

"Mm. Don't do that." He kisses your cheek, "water under the bridge, baby."

The doors open and you make your way back to the hotel room. Sam holds the door open for you and you immediately kick your heels off as soon as you walk in.

Sam walks over, sitting on the bed next to your suit case, "Is this the dress you designed a few weeks ago?" Sam looks from the dress to you.

"The sparkly one?" You turn after taking your earrings out and he nods. You nod, "Yeah, that's her."

"Incredible." He bites his lip and tilts his head as he looks back down at it. His fingers run over the fabric and you walk over, "What's on your mind?"

"I'm just thinking about having you design our next merch line." He looks up at you and you smile, "Really?"

He nods, "Well, basically im asking you to. Colby and I already talked about it and he's game."

"Of course, yes." You smile and he smiles, "Yeah?"

You nod, "I'd be honored to. Just let me know what kind of designs you want." He holds his hand out and you take it. He spins you around and unzips your dress, "Go change into your comfy clothes."

You smile and go to the bathroom to change and take your makeup off. You walk out and Sam is already in shorts and a t shirt, and your suitcase is moved next to his on the floor.

He stops and looks at you, "You're so beautiful." You shake your head and cover your face, "Nooo."

"Yesss." He mocks you and walks over to you, "Come on." He pulls you to the bed and you lay down, his body pressed against yours from behind.

His arm lays over your waist and you gently play with his fingers, "Where did you get this ring from?"

He chuckles anxiously, "Well.. you see.." he pauses and you look over your shoulder at him, "What?"

"I've had it for a little bit actually.. not that I was actually going to propose or anything.. but mainly for when I got enough courage to tell you I liked you.."

"A promise ring?" You roll over to face him and he smiles and laughs slightly, "Basically, yeah."

"Sam." You whisper and he tucks hair behind your ear, "Sorry if it's not the right timing but.." he shrugs and leans in to kiss you, "I just want you to know that I got you.. no matter what."

You lay a hand on his cheek and smile, yawning as you feel the tiredness hit you, "I love it."

He smiles and kisses your forehead, "Get some sleep, you have a big day tomorrow."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting at the sunlight peaking through the slightly open curtains.

You roll over, shocked for a quick second when you see Sam lying there asleep, but that shock is quickly filled with happiness and a feeling of relief.

You sit up, trying your best not to disturb him. You reach over, grabbing your purse from on top or your suit case.

You quietly laugh and smile as you see both responses from Lilly and Colby.

Lilly's text reads, now that looks like l.o.v.e.

Colby's text reads, he is so in love with you, y/n.

Sam sits up, rubbing his eyes, "Morning." You look over at him, setting your phone down as you turn to him, "Morning."

He smiles at you and leans in for a kiss. You lean in, closing the space and you both smile.

"Are you ready for this afternoon?" Sam asks as he stands up and stretches. You sigh with a laugh, "Not really."

"I'm sure you'll be alright, babe. I'll be with you the whole time." He smiles and you tilt your head, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" He asks running his hand through his hair.

"Make everything okay."

He tilts his head, "What do you mean?" You lay on your side and he sits down on the bed, still looking at you.

"You just.. have this way of making me feel better.. no matter what." You look up at him and he smiles, "I could ask you the same question." He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

You smile, closing your eyes until he leans back, "what time is it?"

He looks at the clock on the wall that's behind you, "Almost eleven."

You groan, "We have to be down there by one." You flip onto your back and say lays next to you, propping his head up with his hand, "At least you know what category you're in, so you can just ignore it all until then."

You look up at him, "I just really hope I win so I can rub it in that bitch's face."

He chuckles and nods, "Yeah, yeah. Me too honestly."

You laugh as you sit up, looking at the dress that's laid out over the chair, "You ever do something and it turned out better than you thought that you just can't believe that you did it?"

"You should be proud of yourself, babe. What you do is  pure talent. Even I'm a little jealous." Sam chuckles and you look at him, "Didn't you win awards already?"

"That's besides the point." He kisses your head, "Get ready, we'll go get some breakfast before we have to actually get ready."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Sam?" You call out as you walk out from the bathroom, "Can you zip me up, please?"

You look up and he's staring at you, "Wow, um. Yeah, I can. Turn around for me."

You turn around, holding your dress to your body as he gently tugs the zipper upward, "alright. Spin around, let me see you."

You spin around and Sam's eyes rake up and down your body, "This is beautiful." He reaches out, his fingers lightly dragging up and down the fabric over your hip, "You outdid yourself with this one."

You smile, "Does this low bun and loose strands look okay with it?"

He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up, "You look absolutely gorgeous. I promise." He leans down, kissing you gently before stepping back, "Now.. how do I look?"

"It's a simple outfit, but you look expensive." You smirk and he chuckles, "That was the goal." He hands you your purse and you take it, making sure you have everything before nodding, "Alright. Let's do this."

You make your way down, everyone you pass complimenting you on your dress and you can't help but tell each person that you designed it yourself.

Sam was right, you should be proud, and you are.

You walk in to the small ballroom where you were last night and you feel like all eyes are on you.

Sam leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple and your anxiety washes away, "Thank you."

"Mhm." He points, "I'll go get us a drink if you want to go to our table." You nod, parting ways and going to sit down.

Carmen comes up and makes you stand up, "Oh my god, y/n. This dress is absolutely perfect. Holy shit."

You smile and shrug, "Thanks. I made it myself." 

"You totally deserve this award. If I win, I'm giving it to you." She looks you up and down, "I don't know how you aren't higher up in this industry."

You shrug, "I'll get there at some point, right?"

"You will when you win that award for creative genius, because this just screams, creative genius." She laughs and holds her hand up, "Hey Sam."

"Hey." Sam smiles and hands you your drink, "here babe." You take it and smile, "Thank you."

You hear the microphone squeal and Carmen sighs, "Good luck!" You nod, "You too!" You turn to Sam and sit down.

"You so have this in the bag." He smiles and everyone claps as Zack makes his way to the stage, "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you all for being here, I'm very excited to give these ladies the recognition they truly deserve, so without further ado, our first category.."

You lean in towards Sam and laugh slightly, "You know.. I don't know why I said fiancé.."

He chuckles, "Yeah. We're kinda screwed on that one."

"Yeah. I can't just be like, oh hey. We started dating last night. We're not actually engaged." You laugh quietly and he nods, "we'll figure it out as time goes on, but in the meantime, I don't mind being your fake fiancé."

You smile and nod, "Yeah, it's pretty fun."

He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink before leaning in close to your ear, "Gives us practice for the future, right?"

You look at him, smiling as you nod, "Right." He pecks your lips and lays his arm behind you across the chair.

A few drinks later, you're finally at the category your name is listed in.

"Here we go. No matter what. You still got it." Sam grabs your hand and you hold onto it right as Zack speaks.

"And the winner of the creative genius award goes to.."

There's a slight pause as he opens up the folded piece of paper, "Y/n y/l/n." Zack claps and looks over at you and your mouth drops.

"That's you baby! You won! You fucking won!" You stand up, along with Sam and he kisses you, "go, go." You walk up to the small stage and accept the award from Zack, “Thank you.”

"You deserve this. Look at who you're wearing." He smiles and claps as you turn to the microphone, "um, wow. Okay. I honestly didn't expect this, but at the same time.." you laugh slightly and motion to your dress, "I made this."

"Yeah you did!" Carmen yells and you laugh, "I don't really have a speech prepared but I just want to thank everyone in my life who's pushed me to keep going and to Zack for taking a chance on me."

You look back at him and he nods with a smile. You turn back to the microphone and nod, "Thank you."

You step back and walk off and Zack starts talking again, “I also just found out today that our y/n has just recently got engaged, so if everyone would give a round applause for the newly engaged couple, Sam and y/n!”

You smile, shaking your head as you make your way back to the table, eyes continuing to stay on you while hands clap together.

Sam stands up, hugging you tight, "I'm so proud of you, y/n." He kisses your cheek a few times and as you sit down, you're still floating so you don't really recognize Zack announcing that you got engaged as a problem.

That is until you remember that this little ceremony is being live-streamed on multiple accounts and they have cameras.. Everywhere.

"Shit." You look around and Sam leans in, "What?"

You can't help but laugh, "Zack just outed us as being engaged." You look over at him and he shrugs with a slight laugh, "So?"

You tilt your head, "This is being live-streamed, Sam.. and we’re only dating.. I just.." you cover your mouth with your hand as you laugh into it.

He lays a hand on your thigh and shakes his head, "how many people actually watch this anyway? And I mean other than the other people in the fashion biz, and you know family and stuff."

You nod, "You're right, it's probably not that big of deal, honestly. I mean your fans probably don’t even know you’re here." You smile as you look over your award, "I can't believe it."

"Believe it baby." He gently pinches your cheek, "I knew you were going to get it."

"I hope Colby and Lilly saw.” You sigh, “I can’t believe I won. I won't be able to think about anything else now." You look over at him and he smirks, "Wanna know what I'm thinking about?"

"What's that?" You bite your lip slightly and he leans in, whispering just enough so you can hear, "Just how slow and gentle I want to pull this dress down your body.."

You tense up slightly, biting down on your lip harder as an excited chill goes down your spine, "Really?"

He nods, his fingers run up and down the zipper of your back, "Really."

You take a deep breath, looking around for any indication that you’re allowed to leave.

“I’m sure they’ll want-“ you get cut off by Zack tapping the microphone, “Would all of my winners, please come back up to the stage.”

“That.” You laugh slightly and Sam shakes his head, “It’s fine, babe. We have all night.” He nods towards the stage, “Now go get your picture taken, my little winner.”

You smile as you grab your award, making your way through the sea of people clapping. You walk up on stage, standing between two of the other girls and you bite your tongue as you see Deana sitting there with her arms crossed, pouting like a child.

You look in front of you to the sea of people taking pictures, you swear if you don’t get vision problems from the stage lights, it’ll be from the flashes of the cameras.

“Y/n. Did you make this dress yourself?” One of the photographers asks and you nod, “I sure did.” You step forward, twirling around to give them a full 360 of your gown.

“It’s beautiful!” They say and you smile, “Thank you!” You step back and Zack walks up to the microphone, “Another round of applause before I set these ladies free to celebrate.”

The audience claps and stands up, cheering and whistling for you all. You knew the industry was important, but you now realized just how important it really is.

“Alright girls.” Zack walks up to you and the others and claps his hands together, “Go celebrate! You deserve it!”

You all say thank you in unison and you make your way back to Sam.

“I’m so proud of you.” He pulls you in, kissing your forehead, “so fucking proud.”

You lean back, looking up at him, “Were free to celebrate.” He raises an eyebrow, “Are we?” You nod, standing up as you hold your hand up, “We are.”

He takes your hand and grabs your award for you before you lead him out of the room.

A string of congratulations follows you all the way to the elevator and you are feeding off the high of winning right now.

You loved it.

The elevator opens and Sam walks you in, spinning you around so his lips can meet yours. Your arms move around his neck as your back presses against the cool metal of the elevator wall.

“You deserve this..” he kisses back your jaw, “So much.” He kisses down your neck and you pull him into you, turning your head so you can kiss his lips again.

The elevator dings and he pulls away, glancing up at the floor number, “C’mon.” He slides his hand down your arm and takes your hand, leading you to the room.

He pulls the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and you both file in. He hands your award to you, “Before we take this dress off of you, let me get your picture.”

You take it, smiling as you pose for him.

“God you’re perfect.” He sets his phone down and you set your award down, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Let’s get this dress off of you, yeah?” Sam pulls you to him and his hands slide to your back. His fingers gently pull down the zipper and he pulls the sleeves gently from your arms.

And slowly. Just like he said he was thinking about doing.

He slowly tugs it down your body, letting it pool at your feet, “Step out for me.”

You step out and he moves it, kissing up your thighs, torso, and chest as he makes his way back up to your lips. His arms wrap around your waist as his lips move in a slow sync with yours.

You pull him towards the bed and you sit down, watching as he shrugs his jacket off then slips his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor.

He walks over, hovering his body over yours as he brushes hair from your face, “I can’t believe that after all these years..” he smiles and shakes his head, “Yours finally mine.”

You smile, “We move fast.” You joke with a laugh, “Got engaged right off the bat.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Not the worst thing in the world.” He dips his head down, kissing you as you run your hand through his hair.

“Do you wanna do this?” He leans back and you furrow your brows, “Please. I’ve thought about this everyday for the last few years.”

“Really?” He laughs and smiles and you tilt your head, “Well, maybe not everyday but you know what I mean.” He nods, pressing his lips to yours, “I do.”

You slide your hands down his torso, undoing his jeans, “Please.” You whimper out, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He pushes himself up, and you watch him as he takes off his pants, and he watches you take off your panties. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves his body back onto yours.

Your legs part, knees resting on his hips as he stares down at you, “You ready?”

You nod, “Uh huh.” You lay a hand on his cheek, gasping as you feel his cock starting to slip inside of you, “Fuck.” He groans out, dropping his head to rest his forehead against yours.

Your legs move to wrap around his waist and you moan, “S-Sam.”

He pushes in all the way and you gasp, whimpering as you squeeze his cock. He moans, “S-shit.” His lips crash onto yours as he slowly thrusts in and out, feeling you as much as he can for the very first time.

“You feel incredible.” He whispers, “So fucking good.”

You moan, arching your back off the bed. You tangle your fingers into his hair and tug slightly, earning another groan from his lips.

“I love you.” He moans against your lips and you freeze. You’ve said it to each other, but as friends and mainly on birthday posts or something, but now it has a whole other meaning.

“Sorry.” He leans up, giving you a worried look. You stare at him, brushing hair from his forehead, “I love you.”

He smiles and his lips meet yours as his thrusts pick up again, “Every time I said it..” he whispers, a quiet moan following behind, “I’ve meant it this way.”

You nod, “Me too, baby.” You smile and pull him down to kiss him again. You gently bite his bottom lip and he groans, “Fuck.”

He smirks and kisses down your neck, biting and sucking spots into it as you moan out, “S-so close. So close.”

“Cum for me.” His words push you over the edge and you cling to him as he works you through your high, “That’s it baby.” He kisses your cheek over to your lips.

You gasp at how much pleasure your feelings right now, “Fuck, fuck.”

He groans, “I’m not.. gonna be able to hold it much longer..”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again, and a few thrusts later, he pulls out and you feel him spill onto your stomach.

He rolls over, laying on his back as you both breathe heavy, taking in what just happened. You look over at him, “So that happened.” He smirks and nods, “Yeah, yeah it did.”

You laugh slightly and look around, “Sam, can you-“

“Already on it.” He gets up and walks into the bathroom. You hear his phone going off, “Sam. Your phone is going off.”

He walks out with a towel and looks at it quick, “Yeah it’s just Colby. I’ll call him back in a second.” He walks over to you, wiping you off and you sit up, just as your phone goes off, too.

“Now mines going off.” You laugh slightly and stand up, grabbing the robe off the door and slipping it on as you walk over to your purse.

You pull your phone out, “I have three missed calls from Lilly and two from Colby.” You look at Sam as he slips his shorts on, “That’s not good.”

You toss him his phone and you call Lilly while he calls Colby.

“About time you call me back.” Lilly says on the other end.

“Yeah, sorry Lilly. I was celebrating.” You laugh slightly.

“Did Colby tell Sam?” She asks and you shake your head slightly, confused, “Did Colby tell Sam what?” You ask looking at Sam again, and his eyes go wide, “um. I’m guessing whatever it is, he just found out.”

You put Lilly on speaker, “What is happening?”

Sam burst out laughing, “Oh fucking shit.” He looks at you and puts Colby on speaker. You set your phone down, “Can someone tell me what’s happening?”

“You guys are trending on twitter.” Colby and Lilly say at the same time and your eyes go wide, “Excuse me!?”

Colby laughs on the phone, “Yeah, um. Hashtag Sam Golbach Engagement is now the third most trending hashtag..”

You look up at Sam and he has his hand over his mouth, “I don’t.. I don’t even..” he shrugs and Lilly laughs, “You my dear are just one above him with hashtag y/n and Sam Engaged.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You laugh, unsure of what to do, “what do we do?”

Sam walks over, pulling you into him, “I don’t even.. I didn’t think..” he laughs, which makes you laugh, “Oh my god, Sam. This is unbelievable.”

You look at your phone, “Lilly. Why did you give me the idea for this!?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually ask him to pretend to be your fiancé!” She laughs and Colby chimes in, “Well, looks like we have a wedding to plan.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

My apologies if this absolutely sucks, I feel like this isn’t my best work. but I hope you enjoyed it either way.

If you want one for Colby, you know what to do.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Readers dresses - I like to give a visual sometimes

[cuverale]

my girl - t.c (part 2)

warning: google translate used french and spanish, sorry if it’s wrong!

part one

yourusername

liked by tchalamet, zayn, zendaya and 10,859,276 others

yourusername felt like a dream! thanks again for being there for me y’all!

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zayn 🖤

yourusername 🖤

kissmeyn ok but when are you guys gonna release the song??? we’re still waiting 👀

hero_ft you were amazing

yourusername thank you!!

ynmybaby GUYS I WAS THERE AND SHE DID AMAZING!! IT WAS LITERALLY A DREAM COME TRUE SHE WAS SO SWEET!! SHE STAYED A LITTLE LONGER AFTER IT WAS OVER SO SHE CAN MEET HER FANS!!! 🥹🥹💖

ynsbabygirl she’s such an angel 🥺♥️

timmytimmy did Timothèe showed up???? 👀

ynmybaby tbh I was so focused on Y/n I didn’t even look around me from the moment she was on stage lol

timmytimmy i got you girl 😮‍💨

chalamtfan guys I don’t think he was there. I mean someone would see him but there’s no pictures of him so idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

ynfan2 breathtaking ❤️‍🔥

username49 Timmy liked again!

randomuser i wish timmy was there tho

yourusername ok so usually I don’t like talk about this stuff, but as you can see, it’s my account that you’re commenting on and i was having a good time with you guys but everytime i see comment like this i feel like that’s all I’m worthy of and it makes me uncomfortable. So please be more respectful about this stuff. Take care <3

randomuser you’re right i’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again

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enews

5,594,279 likes

enews Timothèe Chalamet showed up at Coachella watching his ex girlfriend Y/n L/n’s performance. We are wondering what will “sources” say about this.

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timmytimmy I KNEW IT!!

chalamalabingbong OFC HE WAS THERE FOR HIS GIRL

ynfan2 he was so sweet to fan but he was hiding and he never took his eyes off of Y/n 🥺

username49384 well it explains everything right???

callmebyyourpeach i wonder if she knows he was there

ynmybaby E! News is on team Y/n&Timothèe everyone!!!!!

tchalafann i mean they’re not wrong 👀

timmychalamt Guys! I was there and I saw him. He watched her perform and sometimes he sang along with her. He took pictures of her everytime she got close to his side. And I’m not too sure about that but when she started singing “holding on” there was tears in his eyes.

ynmybaby it was their song 🥺

timotea0 this made me cry 🤧

sweettimmy wait really????? 😭

timtim24 I’m actually crying I feel so sad for him. He loses the girl he loves, everyone is making fun of him for something that isn’t even true and now deuxmoi claims that he was dating Taylor and he cheated on her with Kylie.

sweetteaa what?💀

timotheefan15 istg that girl is crazy . Leave him alone!!

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tchalametdaily

1,848,276 likes

tchalametdaily after all this, they’re still claiming that him and Kylie are officially dating?? Now that’s what I call crazy.

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yourfan8 I’m done 💀

timmyfan04 HE LITERALLY SAID HE WASNT DATING THAT GIRL OH GOD

randomuser93 i love & support them!

timmytim wtf

ynynyn9 they’re not even dating 🤡

timmytimmy leave him alone for god’s sake!

randomuser look, idk the details of this whole situation but didn’t he literally showed up at his ex’s performance? There is a video of him looking at her with tears in his eyes and they’re still talking about that plastic bitch? I wonder how much kris payed them.

ynmybaby Y/n claims that they ended their relationship on good terms but i think there is something else going on. She was asked about timmy this morning and she looked so uncomfortable. I really wonder what’s going on but I don’t want my girl to feel uncomfortable.

username953 what if he really cheated on her?

randomuser no way he would do that to her but i think the rumors are part of the reason they broke up.

randomuser97 “devil works hard, kris works harder.”

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ynlndaily

3,593,275 likes

ynlndaily Timothée at Y/n’s performance last year vs now :/

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ynsbabygirl does it ever drive you crazy…

ynmybaby just how fast the night changes…

timmytimmy I still remember when he hyped his girl every chance he got and after she finished her song he said “that’s my girl” and the fans went crazy :((

sweettimmy BRING THEM BACK 😭

kissmeyn God pls let Timmy and Y/n get back together

username491 I don’t think they’ll get back together

chalametfann he was so excited for his girl (he was literally jumping the moment she got to the stage😭) and after the performance him and Y/n met with fans and had so much fun together I MISS THAT SO MUCH

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enews

3,594,279 likes

enews Timothée Chalamet and Y/n L/n spotted together, seemingly arguing about something.

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kissmeyn wait wait

ynmylove I saw the other pics, they were not arguing!

timotheefan8 pls get back together pls plsss

ynmybaby no arguing my babies just hug each other and forget everything

ynsbabygirl I saw the other pictures. She was laughing in one pic. And his hands was on her waist on another 👀

timmytimmy omg is it really happening???

timotheefan15 yesyesyes

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timmyandynupdates

3,593,274 likes

timmyandynupdates GUYS ITS HAPPENING!!

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ynmybaby damn, they were arguing last week now here we are. I’m so happy tho!!

ynsbabygirl they can’t resist each other anymore

timmytimmy OMGOMGOMG

tchalafann I was waiting for this one!!!

timotheefan15 they look happy 🥺

randomuser isn’t that kylie’s new boy toy?

timotea0 no, that’s Y/n L/n’s boyfriend Timothèe Chalamet.

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yourusername

liked by tchalamet, austinbutler, pauline.chalamet and 13,894,275 others

yourusername Tu me manques depuis le moment où tu m'as quitté, he said.

the comments are limited for this post

tchalamet Empecé a extrañarte tan pronto como nos despedimos, she said.

*liked by yourusername

ynsbabygirl SOMEONE TRANSLATE THIS PLS

ynmybaby OK OK!! The caption is “I’ve been missing you since the moment you left me” in French and Timmy’s comment says “I started to miss you as soon as we said goodbye.” in Spanish.

timmytimmy I love when they talk to each other with their first language 🥺

chalametfann SO THEY’RE BACK TOGETHER?? 😭

kissmeyn YESS!! They’ve been spotted kissing yesterday!!! 🥹🥹🥹

timmytim THANK GOD!

tchalamet’s story

@iloveneilperry @miawastakens