#mr. house x reader

[victoria-daydreams]

Begging for somebody to start writing fics for Robert House, this man was on my screen for .2 seconds but he has made a home in my mind, it’s crazy 😭😭😭😭

[maddymoreau]

One of my favorite headcanons I have pre-relationship between my courier and Mr. House is that he schedules a lot of their business meeting during her meal times.

She at first thinks it's because he doesn't value her time but it's actual because he enjoys seeing her indulge in the luxuries he provides.

He also is vicariously enjoying the food through her. Oddly enough Mr. House can probably still eat.

Since he goes out of his way to say if I were able to walk around/leave the cryonic chamber I’d eat at the Gourmand every night.

Instead of saying if I were able to eat.

He seems like someone who did a lot fine dining pre Great War. Especially with how impressed he is by the White Glove Society's Ultra-Luxe Casino.

Mr. House: "They've been good to their word. Put together one hell of a resort hotel, too."

Even showing up uninvited.

So I imagine he's a MAJOR stickler for table manners.

While my courier's table manners aren't awful Mr. House will nitpick and correct her often. To the point it becomes ingrained in her. She catches herself doing it even when away on missions.

[coldgardengentlemen]

Prewar! Jealous! Robert House x Reader

Got tired of the lack of Mr. House fanfic and took it into my own hands.

Content warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, mild arguing, spanking, dom and sub dynamic, hair pulling, degration, humiliation, crying but nothin too intense, use of sir by reader, sex, house calls himself daddy, fingering, oral sex (female recieving), piv sex, light choking, cigarette play, human ashtray, readers head goes burrrr when someone touches their ear, allusion to sugarbaby lifestyle, overstimulation, orgasm denial, aftercare, porn with some plot, no beta we die like men, no use of y/n

Note: you and house have pre-established relationship, in my mind he looks like the mr house from the TV series, plus i kinda headcannon him to be like Gomez Addams with his partners, very passionate and adoring, also writing this in my notes app on my tablet and first ever fic ever let's go

Summary: the reader makes Mr. House jealous during a party and fifty smut ensues

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The elevator ride up to the suite was quiet and tense.

Usually, the tension between you two in the elevator was sexual, passionate, and hot. The elevator door would close and no sooner would Robert turn towards you to connect his lips to yours. You two would make out like horney teenagers at the drive-in movies, tongues and teeth clashing as he desperately gripped your hips, you would run your hands through his hair. By the time the elevator door opens to the grand suite, you two would have begun getting undressed.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the elevator ride was filled with an awkward tension. At least for you it felt awkward, but judging by how aggressively Robert light his cigarette, the tension in his shoulders, and the way he's clenching his jaw. You could guess the tension he was feeling was of the aggressive nature.

Just as you began to open your mouth to break the silence, the elevator breaks it for you with a proment ding.

Robert began walking away as soon as the doors began to slide open, his legs taking him in quick, purposeful strides. Much quicker to his usual leisurely walk that he so confidently uses.

"Robert"

"I think I'll go to my study to work for a bit, you go ahead and go to bed dear"

He interrupts you from the walk-in closet, clearly trying to avoid talking about what happened at the party. A luxury you have no intention of letting him have as you make your way over to him.

When you step into the closet, you find him sitting on the bench, bent over, untying his shoes. His blazer, tie, and other accessories were already removed. He keeps his eyes cast downward at the task at hand, his eyebrows furrowed as he ignores your entry that was announced by the clicking of your heels.

"You're the one who told me to 'be nice and behave', I'm just doing what you told me"

Robert immediately abandoned the task at hand to sit up and look at you with a look that said, 'I knew you were gonna say some shit like that', equal parts pissed off and amused. He began standing up and stalking his way towards you as he spoke.

"I didn't tell you to flirt with some investor."

"I wasn't flirting with anyone, I was being nice"

"You were... enabling that man"

"Enabling?"

"Yes, you were enabling him, encouraging him to flirt with you like he had a chance"

"I know what enabling means Robert"

At this point, he was right in front of you, with you glaring at him stubbornly. His dark eyes stared into yours. He leaned in closer to your face, close enough to feel his breath against your face, never breaking eye contact, and spoke in a low, quiet voice.

"I think its best for you that I retreat to my study to work, I am in no mood to deal with your bratty behavour"

He remains in front of you to see if you have any kind of response, challenging you. You take a moment to decide, his demeanor almost making you consider listening to him.

Almost.

In one dramatic movement, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned your head to the look away from him with a dramatic eye role, a scoff escaping your mouth. The purpose of the action was to give him a taste of his own medicine, payback for him ignoring you in the elevator and just now in the closet. But your attitude is quickly ended as his hand quickly makes its way to the base of your skull, gripping the roots of your hair and pulling you back towards him, causing you to let out a yelp. With your back to his chest now and his hand still holding your hair, he reaches his other hand around your front and places his hand on your throat. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and drags his nose up your neck, nuzzles himself along your jaw before he traces his lips along the shell of your ear. A shiver shoots up your spin against your will as he abuses his knowledge of your weak spots. You swear you can feel him smirk against your ear as be whispers into it.

"If that's how you're going to act, then a guess I'll just have to give you a proper attitude adjustment."

His warmth leaves you as he pushes you through the closet doorway by the hand that still has a strong grip on your hair. You let out squeaks as he dog-walks you towards your bed.

"Robert-"

He sits at the end of your shared bed and maneuvers you across his lap and gives you a quick but firm spank on your rear, the sound of its impacts and your yelp filling the room.

"You will speak when spoken to and only when spoken to, now stay still and take you punishment like a good girl and I'll consider letting you cum tonight."

You let out a whine and are met with another spank on your rear before his hands find your waist, and he begins manipulating your body to the proper position. When he is satisfied with your positioning and the fact that you seem to be obeying him, he begins letting his hands roam your body as you lay across his lap. Fingers dance along you spine and ribs as his other hand smooths over the swell of your ass and he paws it with a firm grip. You feel your body and mind surrender as he massages your body, your previous bratty behavior extinguished by the thought of what kind of scene he is planning for you right now. He hums in satisfaction at how quickly you surrender to him, taking pride in the trust you are giving him. He slowly slides the hem of your dress up your legs, dragging them across your thighs and pushing them over the swell of your ass before securing them around your waist. As his hands roam over the newly exposed flesh, you feel your face get even hotter as you no doubt have a blush covering your whole faces.

"Twenty-five, hopefully that will be enough to teach you not to play stupid games. Does that sound good?"

His voice is rough with lust, and you can already feel his bulge against your stomach. Your head is already swimming with anticipation that you barely recognize him asking you the question, and you feel your heart swell as you realize he is checking in on you. You give a lazy nod and hum a 'mmhm', but are met with another spank.

"Use your words, girl," He states firmly.

"Y-yes sir... please punishe me"

"Good girl"

His tone is akin to that of a owner speaking to a dog, and the humiliation of it gose straight to your core. He begins his punishment for you, alternating which cheek he is abusing, occasionally rubbing your ass to sooth some pain, and praising you with each milestone.

"That's ten, your doing so good for me baby"

"Fifteenth, you look so pretty, taking your punishment like a good girl"

"Twenty, you're almost done dear"

Until you finally hit twenty-five. At this point, you have begun to squirm at the pain and totally not to get friction for the painful arousal you feel. Your arousal is very apparent to Robert due to the large wet spot that has formed on your panties.

"There, that's twenty-five, my dear." He coos as he caresses your bottom with his hand to ease the pain. His other hand gently guides your face so you are facing him.

And what a sight you are to him, hair a mess and sticking to your face due to sweat, or was it due to the tears that have fallen from your eyes. He brushes the hair out of your face as he coos down at you.

"Oh my poor girl, did daddy go too hard on you?"

His tone is on the verge of being condescending, but you aren't too concerned with that as you feel his hand on your rear slip between your legs. You involuntarily let a moan slip from your mouth at the much needed contact and quickly shy away, hiding your face in the comforter out of embarrassment. Robert let's out a chuckle at your actions as he begins to slowly rub your clit through your underwear.

"Acting so shy now? Not even an hour ago you were so confident. Flaunting yourself in front of the investors, laughing at their idiotic jokes and flirtations. Where did all that confidence go, hm?"

The grip in your hair returns again as he forces you out of hiding. You let out a moan and arch you back at the force of it.

"Tell me dear..." He pushes your panties to the side and easily slips a finger in. "Was this your plan?" His finger slowly pumps into you at a steady pace "make me jealous so that I angrly fuck your brains out when we return? Go all cock dumb as I ravish your body?" He adds another finger and begins a rough pace, making you forget that you are supposed to answer him. There is another tug to your hair and you feel him lean over you, his breath brushing against your ear. "I asked you a question pretty girl, or are you already to dumb to answer?"

"Yes" you push out honestly, your voice rough.

"Yes? Yes, what dear? Please use full sentences. I know you know how"

"Yes... I wanted to make you jealous so you would fuck me hard sir" at this point he has been fingering you rough and deep while his thumb rubs tight circles around you clit.

"...and how is that working out for you?" He whispers into your ear before letting out a chuckle and sitting up straight again. He quickens his pace, and you let out a whine, feeling your stomach tightent as your orgasam starts fastly approaching. "Did you really believe I would let you get away with that?" His hand in your hair leaves causing your face to fall back into the bed, and he uses his now free hand to grip your hip and keep you in place as you begin to buck at the feeling of your upcoming orgasam. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten further as you are pushed towards the edge. "No s-sir...ah... I'm so-orry sir, please. Fuck. Please, I'm so close"

"OH I know dear, I can feel how tight your cunt is gripping me" His fingers keep pumping at the same pace, your thighs clench around Robert's hand as you feel yourself about to fall off the edge. "I'm just not convinced you deserve to cum" and just like that he removes his hand from your wet heat, leaving you aching and dissatisfied as another whine escapes you.

"N-no sir, please I wanna cum" you plead, using you forearms to push the upper half of your body up so you can look at him properly. When you look at him, you find him leaning back onto his hands, distantly watching as he traces random patterns along your back, over your ass, and down your outer thigh. His face wears a look of faux boredom as he pretends to consider what you say before lazily tilting his head towards you, making eye contact that you have no choice but to hold.

"If you want to come, you have to earn it first," He states sofly as he arches his brow towards you. You push yourself up and crawl backward until you are kneeling on the bed beside him, his eyes following your every move. As you kneel beside him, you lean towards him and desperately grip his crisp white dress shirt. "Please sir, just tell me what to do," you plead. He takes a moment to appreciate the way you look at him in this moment before moving his face closer to yours, cupping your cheek. His eyes never leave yours as he gives a simple command.

"Kneel"

And as if hypnotized by him, you begin to slide off the bed, sinking to the floor and kneeling at the space between his thighs. He looks down at you proudly, and you can't help but excitedly start pawing at his crotch. As you reach for his belt, his hands stop you with a grip on the wrists. "So eager to please but, thats no what I had in mind." He reaches behind him and grabs a pillow for you to kneel on. As you get yourself situated and wonder what else he could possibly want from you, you hear the flick of his lighter. As you look up at him, you find he already has his gaze set on you as he lights the cigarette that is caught between his lips. When it's lit he closes the lighter and takes a long, dramatic drag before blowing it down towards you, his eyelids heavy with lust as you close your eyes to better feel the cloud reach you face. He then leans forward, elbows on his knees as he takes another drag of the cigarette. He cups your jaw with one hand and squeezes your cheeks before fully leaning forward to blow the smoke into your mouth. He allows himself to kiss you fully and slide his tongue into your mouth before pulling away and leaving you breathless. He pulls back slightly, loosening his grip on your face as he seems to be distracted by your lip. His eyes meet yours as he slowly raises the cigarette into your sights, and he flicks the ashes off. You watch the ashes as they fall to the floor like fresh snow, the particles dancing in the air as they make their way to the ground.

"Do you know what I want from you?" He speaks softly this time, as if worried someone will hear him, as if what he is about to tell you is a secret. You slowly shake your head 'no', and he removes his hands grip from you and slowly begins dragging a single finger along your jaw before he holds it just under your chin. He holds eyecontact with you again, but this time with purpose, he is speaking directly to you now, outside of your little scene. "I want to use your mouth as my personal ashtray dear"

A sound escapes the back of your throat. This is unexpected. You won't lie, you have caught yourself admiring him while smoking. Watched how he would lazily hold a cigarette between two fingers, or how he would blow smoke out between his smirking lips. You begin to wonder just how long he has been wanting to ask this of you.

Seeing the surprised and confused look on your face, he begins to backtrack. "You can say no dear, won't be mad about it, I know it's not everyone's cup of tea -" you cut him off.

"No, I wanna try it." He studies your fave for any sign of a lie. "Are you sure, love?" You melt at how much he cares as you nod your head "Yes baby... just tell me what to do. " His eyes soften at you for a second before he readjusts his posture again, returning to the scene and his role in it.

"All you have to do is sit there and look pretty with your mouth open and tongue flat. You can just sit there all dumb as I finish my cigarette and ash them onto your tongue. " He returns the cigarette to his lips to take another drag. "Think you can handel that for me dear?"

Instead of answering, you eagerly open your mouth and let your tongue hang out as you stare at him with lust filled eyes. A smirk ghosts his lips before he bites it, not wanting to show you just how much this is affecting him. He takes another drag before moving the cigarette towards your mouth, and he gently taps the cigarette so the ashes fall to your tongue. You didn't know what you expected, as the ashes hit your tongue they sting for a second before the pain melted away and it just felt like there was a bit of dirt on your tongue. Upon watching the ash fall into your mouth, Robert has to suppress a shiver that rackes up his spine and instead altered for taking another heavy drag of the cigarette.

"That's a good girl. Oh, you have no idea what you do to me. " He ashes into your mouth again and takes another drag, his eyes never leaving the spot where the ashes are beginning to pile up. A satisfied smirk that might actually be a genuine smile crosses his lips as smoke seeps out between his teeth. "I can't believe you would let someone do this to you... can't believe you would let me do this to you. "

He takes another long drag and ashes it into your mouth. The cigarette is almost done at this point, and you feel a bit disappointed. The ash is heavy on your tongue and you can feel your clit pulsing with anticipation. "You look so fucking pretty like this" He takes the final drag and the sound the escapes you is pathetic, you feel your face become flushed with embarrassment. "Oh don't worry doll, I'll give you what you want after this" And with that he flicks the final ashes onto your young.

"Now." He leans in close again, demanding your eye contact. "Do you think you can swallow it?" You hesitate for a moment before deciding to commit to this entirely, and you close your mouth. In your attempt to swallow your eyes shut as the ash coats the roof of your mouth. Most of it goes down, but there is still some coating your tongue and the roof of your mouth. You hear a sigh escape Robert, and upon opening your eyes, you find him looking down at you, eyes darkened with lust.

Maintaining eyecontact, you open your mouth wide, showing him that you swallowed, some remains of the ash still clinging to your mouth. Then, as if he suddenly lost all control of himself, Robert let out a low moan, and his hand shot out and gripped your face before he leaned in and kissed your open mouth. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, he runs it along your teeth, slips it around your tongue, and dips it into the inside of your cheek. The kiss is sloppy, wet, and full of unwavering passion as you two moan into each other's mouth. As the kissing continues you feel Robert begin to pull back, guiding you back up to the bed until you find yourself laying with your head on the pillow, his body over top of yours caging you in. His hands begin to roam your body as he trails his kisses over your face and down your jaw before he starts nibbling on your ear. You feel yourself clench around nothing as you wrap your legs around his body, locking him in place.

"Fuck dear, you did so good for me... such a good girl" He begins to suck on one of the sensitive spots on your neck, marking you as his. "I don't know how I deserve you..." the hands that paw at you slip under your body and pulls the zipper of your dress down. You arch your back to give him better access as your own hands begin to unbutton his shirt. He pulls away for a moment and a whine falls from your lips. "Oh hush dear, I'll give you what you want" He states before he gathers the hem of your dress again and pushes it up and off of your body.

He takes a moment to sit back on his heels and admire you. A praising sigh leaves him as he looks down at you, disheveled and wanting, your lips swollen from shared kisses. He pushes his own shirt off and throws it to the side. "Look at you, this is where you belong." He unbuckles his belt and removes it with impressive speed. "You shouldn't be working or forced to entertain the minds of men far below us" He delivers open mouth kisses to the tops of your breasts as he unclasps your bra and flings it to the side. "You should just stay right here, in our bed so that I can ravish and pamper you at any given moment"

He leaves the bed to stand and remove his remaining clothes, pushing his pants down, his underwear coming with it as his cock springs free before he is on you once again. He leaves a trail of kisses down your chest and stomach before stopping at the top of your panties. He looks up at you with admiration and desire as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and slowly drags them down your legs, kissing the inside of your thighs as he goes. He lays on his stomach, head between your legs as he breaks his eyecontact with you to stare at your wet heat, he let's out a guttural moan.

"Oh God, is this what I do to you?" He uses both is thumbs to spread your folds and present yourself to him before leaning forward and placing a big, open mouth kiss to your exposed hole. He hums pleasantly at the taste of you, the vibrations going straight to your core, before he pulls back to lick his lips clean. "Fucking perfect" he growls before diving back in. Your legs lock around his head and your back arches off the bed against your will as he eats you out like a man starved. Deep moans leave you as your hand finds his head, gripping his hair as he alternates from sucking your clit and tonguing your hole. As he latches onto your clit again he tries a new approach, sucking your clit while swirling his tongue around it in circles as he pushes two fingers into you. Your stomach clenches at your incoming orgasm, even more sensitive due to the previous punishment and teasing.

"F-fuck Robert, I'm gonna -"

"Yes, do it, come on my face," He mumbles into you, his voice muffled as he continues pleasuring you.

Your toes curl from pleasure as tears fall from your eyes once again, pleasure overcoming you as you are finally pushed over the edge. A loud moan escapes the back of your throat.

Robert desperately drinks you up, embarrassingly wet slirping noises and his moans are all you can hear as you come down from your high. You weakly push on his head to signal you are too sensitive, and he pulls back to look up at you. He leaves wet kisses in his wake as he crawls up your body.

Your eyelids feel heavy, and you close your eye, relishing in the afterglow only for your eyes to be shot open at the feeling of his fingers entering you once again. His fingers pump in and out of you as a cry leaves you at the overstimulation. "Not quite done just yet dear, you still have to take my cock" You whine more as he removes his fingers and drags the tip of his cock along your folds, brushing against your sensitive clit before pushing into you in one go. Your walls are slick from the previous activities.

He lets out a low moan upon entering you, and his head falls into the crevice of your neck, overwhelmed at the feeling of you gripping him. He wraps one of his arms around your back as the other hoists your leg up further before he begins pumping into you. His thrusts are deep, passionate, hard, and precise, hitting that sweetspot inside of you over and over again. Your legs lock around him once again as you have no choice but to take what he is giving you, your body fully surrendering to the pleasure he is giving you. All that can be heard in the room are both your loud moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. You are hot and overwhelmed with pleasure and begin digging your nails into his back as you feel your orgasm fast approaching, when suddenly you feel his hand snake between your bodies to rub your clit. Your orgasm surprises you and you come crashing down with a loud howl, and at the same time you feel Robert meeting his own end as his cum fills you. After a few final, short pumps, Robert finally steadies himself and collapses on top of you. His body weight is a comfort, grounding you as you run your hands up and down his back.

You both lay there quietly for a moment before Robert slowly and reluctantly pushes himself off of you and removes himself from you, a sigh falling from both your lips. When he speaks to you, he is out of breath and panting still. "Fuck love... that was amazing" He kisses your forehead and temple. "You did such a good job...mmh so proud of you" He kisses you lips once again, much softer this time as he gently cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"Let me get us some water and a washcloth, hm?" He speaks to you gently, and you nod in response, not trusting your voice. As he leaves the bed to get the supplies, he lifts your hand to his mouth to kiss you knuckles in thanks and appreciation before entering the bathroom. You can hear the water running as you come down from the high, exaution overtaking your body as your eyelids fall heavy again.

When he returns, he gently wipes your entrance, cleaning it from the cum that continues to seep out of you, before he helps you sit up a bit and brings the water to your mouth, you drink from the glass greedily. "Slow down dear, I won't take it from you," He jests. You listen to him and drink slower.

When the glass is finished, he puts it on the bedside table, turns off the lights, and helps the two of you under the covers. You lay your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead again. After a couple of minutes to relax, he speaks again, his voice almost a whisper. "How did you find it?... the scene, the..." and for once, he is the one feeling embarrassed. He must have been thinking about asking you to do this for quite some time now. You let out a pleasant hum before answering.

"It was good... I liked it"

"You did?" He seems almost surprised, looking down at you to see if you are lying.

"Yes baby, now let's sleep..." You whisper, eyes already shut as you prepare for sleep to take you.

It's quiet again in the room, the distant sounds of Vegas the only thing you can hear as he pulls you closer to his body and delivers a final kiss you your temple.

"Goodnight dear" He speaks in a hushed tone.

"Goodnight baby"

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Isn't it kinda funny that the first fanfic I ever wrote was a smutty Mr. House fic where he uses you as a human ashtray... anyways, have a new appreciation for fanfic writers, this was three days of writing i think a total of 8 hours. Apologies for any Grammer or spelling issues its not my strong suit. Also open to any constructive feedback but please don't be mean to me I'll cry I hope you enjoy <3

[eraenaa]

Most Ardently

Inspired by Pride and Prejudice

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen had accompanied his younger brother to Highgarden in hopes of securing Daeron a wife— he did not expect he would want to secure a wife for himself as well. 

Warning: Not Proofread, Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy

Word Count: 3,702

Aemond walked stiffly as he was about to enter a hall filled with merriment. He only wished to go to Old Town with the purpose of visiting and checking upon his younger brother’s well-being as requested by their mother— he had no wish to be dragged to Highgarden and attend a ball hosted by its Lord. Aemond walked behind Daeron as they entered the hall, all eyes upon them. All attendees bowed when they passed— all showing respect to their princes except for one. Aemond saw you by his right, a chalice in your hand, whispering to a girl beside you with a grin on your lips— completely disregarding the presence of royalty. 

When you finally realized that everyone around you had grown quiet and the music had stopped, you turned to face forward—locking eyes with the unique gaze of Old Valyria. Quickly curtsying as you remembered it was the protocol, bowing your head and breaking your gaze from the prince who only had one eye. His name seemed to elude you. You knew of Prince Daeron well, the prince having spent the week’s end in your family’s keep, hosted by your lord father because he was courting your elder sister. You seem to forget which brother Prince Daeron now walked with— was it Prince Aegon or Prince Aemond? 

“Which prince is that again?” You whispered to your sisters as your father scanned the crowd in search of you two to be presented to the esteemed guests. “That is Prince Aemond,” Your sister answered. “He looks miserable, poor soul,” You whisper, making your sister shake her head in amusement. “Miserable, he may be, but poor, he most certainly is not.” You frowned at your sister’s words. “I was told he has twice the inheritance than any of his brothers— even though he is only the second born, he is greatly favored by his mother and grandfather. That he is set to inherit Dragonstone once Prince Aegon is King.” You hummed and could not think of a reply as you two were finally seen by your father and were whisked away to be presented to the princes. 

Music flooded the room once more as you stood before the princes. A lone eye would intermittently fly to your frame as your father spoke. “Prince Daeron, my daughters, you already know of.” Your father began, and you wanted to playfully roll your eyes at your sister as the moment she and the younger prince locked eyes, a blush ran on both cheeks and a giddy smile plastered on their lips. “Of course, and my I introduce you two to my brother, Aemond.” Prince Daeron smiled as he was delighted to be accompanied by his older brother. 

You and your sister curtsied once more, smiling expectantly at the newly arrived prince who simply stood stiff as a board and offered no signs of recognition to you nor your sister. Simply blinked as his lone gaze would shift between the two of you. You wanted to frown, but your sister who knew you too well took hold of your arm and lightly pinched it as a communication to keep your expression neutral. 

As the song ended and a new one began, you and your sister, along with the prince who courted her, went off to the side to chat whilst your father spoke formally with the One-Eyed prince whose gaze would fly over to your group with each moment passed. “I apologize for my brother— he is just not keen on large parties… nor small ones to be honest,” Prince Daeron explained. “And so you decided to take him to a ball instead?” You asked making your sister nudge your side, fearing that you spoke offense but Prince Daeron simply laughed. You passed your gaze where the older prince stood, seemingly glaring at the room, passing his gaze around the sea of people as if they had wronged him. 

Prince Aemond found his way and stood next to his brother once more. Silent as you three were enveloped in conversation. As a new song began, you smiled as you watched the younger prince escort your sister to the floor for a dance. You passed your gaze to the prince, who stood stoically beside you, unmoving except for his eye. “Do you dance, Prince Aemond?” You inquired, his lilac eye still scanning the room filled with glee— judging as everyone around seemed to be intoxicated with joy. 

“Not if I could help it,” He coldly responded. Not even turning to you as he spoke. It was then that you finally let the confused frown slip your face. But you shrugged him off and walked away, determined not to let his demeanor dampen your mood. Aemond’s eye followed you as you walked off, a small smile on your lips as you admired the merriment around. It did not matter that you were not asked to dance; you were completely fine to watch your sister get more acquainted with the youngest prince of the realm, who had been courting her for the past three moons. 

 After two songs passed, you found yourself resting your feet behind a pillar, your presence unbeknownst to anyone who walked past. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld,” You hear the familiar voice of Prince Daeron speak and you could not help but smile at how enamored he was with your sister. You hear Prince Aemond hum, and you peek from behind the pillar to listen more into the princes’ conversation. “And her sister is very agreeable, do you not think so? She is of celebrated beauty here in the Reach.” You smile at the younger prince’s recognition of your beauty but quickly vanishes as you hear Prince Aemond’s response. “Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” 

You scoff to yourself as you hear their footsteps depart. Greatly offended by the prince’s words. Your tried to proceed with the night and forget you had heard his offensive words. But as you were forced into the chatter of a group with him, you could not help but let a hint of animosity show. “I wondered who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?” You ask as your mother embarrassingly recalls you and your sister's past suitors who were keen on writing you sonnets after sonnets but never fully committing to marriage. “I thought that poetry was the fruit of love?” Prince Aemond asked, the group hiding away their surprise when the prince finally spoke and joined in on the conversation.

“Of a fine, stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination, I’m convened one poor sonnet will it stone dead.” You replied as you gazed at his lone eye that would fleet away, unable to hold the intensity and teasing mirth in your orbs. “So what do you recommend to encourage affection?” He asked, finally holding your gaze as you felt a smirk rising to your lips. “Dancing, my prince. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.” You smiled and curtsied, watching as his eye flooded with the realization that you had heard what he had said. You walked away before he even got a chance to reply. His gaze followed you as you blended into the sea of guests. 

When the night ended, you told your sister what you had heard while hiding behind a pillar. “Count your blessing, sissy, if he liked you, you’d have to talk to him.” She says as she brushes your hair, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Precisely, as it is, I wouldn’t have danced with him for the whole kingdom, let alone dreary Dragonstone.” You tried to laugh it off and brush away the wound he had inflicted on your pride. After a few moments of silence, your sister spoke once more. “I still cannot believe what he said about you,” she muttered as she finished brushing the fine locks of your hair. “I could easily forgive the prince’s vanity if he had not wounded mine,” You say as you tucked the strands of your hair behind your ear, gazing at the mirror. “Me? Perfectly tolerable? He’d be lucky if anyone who had half of my beauty would find him tolerable,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes, making your sister laugh at your pride and confidence that muddled with each other. You sighed and stood, “I do not wish to think more about the One-eyed Prince. Good night, sister; I shall see you when morning comes.” You say and kiss her cheeks before leaving her room.

When morning came, Prince Daeron was quick to send an invitation to you and your sister to visit him in Old Town. An invitation your sister giddily accepted, and you politely declined— no want to see the One-Eyed Prince once more. But as your beloved sister was taken by fever whilst on her journey there, you had no choice but to follow her. 

“Lady Tyrell, Your Highnesses,” They announced your arrival, and you walked into the room. Biting the inside of your cheeks when Prince Aemond abruptly stood from his chair and bowed.  You quickly curtsied and turned to his brother, “So good of you to come so quickly; your sister has missed you terribly.” Prince Daeron said and walked towards you. “Follow me, and I’ll escort you to where she rests.” He said, and you followed him out of the room but gave one last look at his older brother before doing so. 

Aemond silently trailed behind the two of you. His mind was plagued by your eyes, by your voice, by your smile. His brother had no intention of sending an invitation for you to come to Old Town, but he had infiltrated his thoughts and lightly manipulated him to send the invitation, which you declined, disappointing the prince. It would be cruel to him to admit that he saw your sister’s illness as optimal because now you had no choice but to join them in Old Town. “Oh, sissy,” You fretted as you saw her lying on the bed, pale and had a damp cloth on her forehead. 

“Thank you for taking care of my sister so diligently,” You said to Prince Daeron, who gave a nod and a smile. “Of course, it’s a pleasure she’s here,” You smile at the prince you suspect would be your brother through marriage soon enough. “I shall give you two privacy— if you are in need of anything, do not hesitate to ask,” you smile and nod, watching as Prince Daeron reluctantly removes his gaze from your sister. “He is completely in love with you; I’m quite certain of it.” You smiled at your sister and took her cold hands in yours to warm them. “I’m so glad you’re here; I feel such a terrible imposition.” You laugh, “Please, the prince seemed thrilled that you are here being ill.” You smile, and your sister shakes her head. 

“I’ve come to know of something the other day,” She said, piquing your interest as you thought she would share gossip. “Apparently, your invitation was sent for by Prince Aemond,” Your sister smiled, but you did not mirror it. “He is the one who sent you an invitation— he wishes for your presence.” Your sister further explained as she saw concussion in your eyes. “What for? To insult me once more?” You say bitterly. “Oh, sissy, you cannot let one’s transgression sully your entire image of them. People are bound to make mistakes— I’m certain Prince Aemond did not mean what he had said.” You rolled your eyes and stubbornly shook your head. “It does not matter if he is the one to send the invitation or not— my only purpose of coming here is to see how you are.” You said, and thankfully, your sister no longer brought the subject up. 

Days passed as you were in the presence of the Princes as you waited for your sister to recover. You found yourself engaging in more arguments than conversations with the Prince, whom your sister said was the one to send you the invitation. If not engaged in lively arguments, both of you would simply catch each other’s eyes. Gazing at each other silently, secretively until caught. 

You were in the parlor with Prince Daeron, playing a round of cards, when his brother came in with a book. “You waste your time with the frivolity of gambling,” You feel yourself frown but quickly take hold of your expression, turning to the younger prince whose turn it was to disagree with his brother. “It is just a bit of fun, brother. Not everything in life must be overly serious. Come, join us,” Daeron said and discarded in the middle of the velvet table. 

“I’d rather read of civility than play cards and be at the threshold of a scoundrel,” Prince Aemond stated, his eye flying to you. Resisting the urge to smirk as the furrow in your brow returned as well as the pout on your plump lips. When your eyes locked, he raised his brow in question. “Anything to share, Lady Tyrell? Any musings or disagreement you’d wish to discuss with your prince?” He hummed, tone almost teasing. You knew he was baiting you, and if you had more energy that day, you’d happily take it, but you shook your head. “None, Your Highness.” You say, slightly disappointing the prince, for the only opportunity he had to speak with you and keep your attention with him was through your arguments.

When supper came, you entered the dining room expecting two princes, just like the other nights. But only the One-Eyed Prince waited for you. You quickly curtsied as he stood, “Where is Prince Daeron, your Highness?” You inquired as you were assisted to sit by one of the footmen. “My brother says he wishes to retire early tonight— it would be just us… if that is agreeable with you. If not, then say so, and I’ll take my supper in the servant’s quarters.” You looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out why he was still challenging you. “I am completely fine with any arrangement, my prince,” You say and proceed with the overly quiet meal as the prince and you shared no word but only stare at each other— challenging gazes that neither fell victim to. 

The following morning, your sister had recovered enough for the both of you to head home. No anger wanting to impose and overwelcome your stay with the princes. “Prince Daeron, I do not know how to thank you,” You hear your sister say in gratitude, “You’re welcome anytime you feel the least bit poorly,” You bit back your smile as you followed your sister to the carriage. “Prince Aemond,” You cursed stoically— only doing it as he was a prince, and it would be impertinent not to note his presence. You turned to Prince Daeron and let a smile slip your lips, curtsying to the prince you hoped to be your brother in marriage in the near future. 

You raised your leg to step foot in the carriage but were slightly startled as you felt someone take hold of your left hand, assisting you in boarding the wheelhouse. You turned to the prince, who took hold of your hand. Aemond quickly savored the surprise in your eyes and how your plump lips parted before relinquishing his hold of your hand and returning to the keep without another word, stretched his hand that touched yours as an unfamiliar tingle consumed it. 

It was not a week later that you returned to Hightower, where another ball was to commence. You and your sister walked, arms linked, you wearing the green of your house whilst her the yellow, both of you had flowers adorned in your hair. “Will this perhaps be the night you will finally be a prince’s betrothed?” You teased and laughed as your sister’s cheeks bloomed with color. “Do not get my hopes up, sissy; it has been three moons since the Prince had first started courting me… in all honesty, my faith is running thin.” You frowned and shook your head. “Do not speak as such, sister. He is in love with you— I am quite certain of it,” 

You straightened your back as you neared the hall's threshold, the hosts standing before it to welcome their guests. “I—I’m so pleased you’re here,” Prince Daeron told your sister whilst your gaze was traveling the room, distracted and trying to ignore the challenging yet indifferent gaze of a lone lilac eye. “And how are you tonight, my lady?” Prince Daeron asked, but you were too preoccupied. “My lady?” He called once more, and your sister elbowed your side. “Are you looking for someone?” Prince Aemond drawled, and you shook your head at his inquiring eye, glancing over to where your gaze was. “No, not at all,” You said and quickly curtsied to enter the hall, an eye following you as walked away. 

Aemond tried to refocus his gaze to anywhere or anyone else but he could not. It had been steady on you since the moment you arrived, watching you whilst you were chatting with a group of girls you had known since childhood, when suddenly you were approached by a young man from house Redwyne, and a gnawing feeling in his gut announced itself as he saw a smile bloom into your pink lips as you gave your hand to the young man who escorted you to dance. Aemond’s hold on his chalice tightened as he saw you giggle with the man who spun you around and dared to keep his hold on your waist. The prince saw red as he watched the man dip down and whisper something in your ear, earning a sweet, bashful blush on your cheeks. 

The prince dug his nails into his palm, quickly moving to the sea of dancers to take your partner's spot before anyone else would have a chance to dance with you— before anyone else would have a chance to hold you. “May I have the next dance, lady Tyrell?” The prince asked the moment the first song ended. You looked around the room as most eyes were on you, a peculiar scene as the stoic prince, who seemed to detest dancing and preferred to stand by the side, asked you for a dance. You licked your lips before answering, “You may,” You quietly said. 

“Did I just agree to dance with Prince Aemond?” You whispered to your sister, who had a teasing smile on her lips. “I dare say you will find him very amiable, sissy.” Your sister smiled, and you shook your head. Stubborn and still holding a bias against the second-born prince of the realm. “It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity!” You rambled but could not help but laugh at your fate. Your sister joined along and pulled you towards the dance floor as the second song was to start, and two princes waited for the two of you. 

You were stood across the One-Eyed Prince. His stance is still stiff, and you began to wonder if he’d be any good at dancing. Aemond bit his tongue as you curtsied before him, your dress and lowered stance giving him a slight view of your bosom. He clenched his jaw and willed any thought of impropriety may leave his thoughts and body. 

“I love this dance,” you say as you circle around the prince, his eye following your every movement. Aemond would note that they would waver upon his gaze if it were anyone else but not you. “Indeed, it is most invigorating,” he answered, slightly cringing to himself if that was the proper response. There was another moment of tense silence between the two of you, you sighing as you were starting to grow accustomed to it, but in all honesty, you’d rather talk that night, even if it were with him. “I believe it is your turn to say something, my prince.” You say and feel your lips twitch upward as you have the devilish thought to tease him.

“I talked about the dance; now, you ought to remark on the size of the room or the couples present.” You say as you feel his hold on your hand tighten ever so lightly. “I am perfectly happy to oblige you, my lady. Please advise me of what you would like most to hear,” You let a smirk slip your lips at his sardonic response. “That reply will do for now,” You said as you focused on the dance. But you could not truly do so because it seems your whole being was intent on focussing itself on the prince. The way he stared you down, the way his lithe body gracefully glided with the dance, the way it felt to hold his hand. It would shame you to say that after the dance, your body felt alight, and the beat of your heart ran almost alarmingly in your chest. 

You excused yourself from the crowded room, finding calm outside in a marble gazebo. The structure barely lit and only illuminated by the light of the moon. You rested your back on the cool pillar, hoping it would ease the inner heat that torched your body. You closed your eyes and tried to control your ragged breathing and raging thoughts of the One-Eyed Prince. 

“Lady Tyrell,” You jumped in your spot, eyes growing wide as you were startled by the prince's presence. “My prince,” You breathed out, uncertain why he had followed you. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do.” He began to speak rendering you more confused. “What… your highness, I—“ He shook his head and dared to step forward. You stared at his eye, lilac darker in the dim light. 

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell I admire and love you.” Aemond watched you as your lips parted and your fine eyes filled with utter shock. “Most Ardently.”

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears A Suit

part Ⅰ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder. Hot devil's son. Sexual harassment? Michael Langdon.

Summary: Y/N is a purple at Outpost 3 and gets interviewed by Mr. Langdon.

A/N: I will go to hell for this and I am not opposing if he will be there too.

After 18 months at the underground Outpost life was as dreadful as being killed by a bomb explosion. Or worse. A bunch of snobs and shallow cowards. It was clear as day, that it was just a matter of time before everyone was at each other's throats. 

It wasn’t the Outpost itself or the fact that we are the last human beings on this planet that made everything so depressing. It was boredom. A hole in my head. The only bearable person here was Mr. Gallant. Without his company at the dining table, I could have stuck a fork into my neck.

That evening Ms. Venable announced to us about a visitor. The agent of the Cooperative. Even though she remained calm as usual I sensed a note of fear in her voice. So it means this new man has great authority. I was grateful for any kind of entertainment, even if it meant a bloody revolution. After 18 months with the same people, fresh meat is always dainty.

Ms. Venable ended her speech when a tall man with long blond hair entered the room. He had a dark aura. The aura of power.

“My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative,” he said, circling our table. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

I glanced at the other residents of the Outpost. They all looked tense and nervous, especially Ms. Venable. She seemed almost afraid of him. Only Mr. Gallant seemed as amused as me. We glanced at each other and I immediately understood what was on his mind. After all, he had a good taste in men.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His speech was persuasive, words sharp and his blue eyes pierced into all of us. Such an ability to capture everyone's attention was making me delighted.

He stopped at the head of the table and continued. “The three other compounds have been overrun and destroyed.”

“What happened to the people inside?” asked Timothy worried. 

“Massacred,” answered Langdon and I think I caught the shadow of a grin on his face.

I bit my lip to stop myself from chuckling. I had to admit, this Langdon was a very attractive man. And Mr. Gallant was obviously admiring his appearance too. But there was something about The Cooperative representative that made me feel uneasy. It was as if he was hiding something. Something very bad. 

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe… The Sanctuary,” he said, placing his hands behind his back. “I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call ‘Cooperating’. Simply, I will determine if you belong.”

I remained silent, analyzing the situation. Everyone seemed wary and looked at others with distrust. Only Coco didn’t have enough brains to remain silent and tried to openly express her dissatisfaction. Fortunately, her tirade was abruptly suppressed.

“I volunteer to go first.” Mr. Gallant raised his hand. 

“And so you shall,” Langdon said threateningly, looking us over. He had a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I had a feeling that he already knew who he was going to select.

“The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won’t be kept in suspense forever. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” I felt his gaze on me and barely restrained myself from looking away. 

Langdon left the room and everyone immediately started to argue. A bunch of morons, all of them. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, observing the conversation. Everyone began to share their suspicions and guesses, but of course, they were all too wrapped up in their own fear to notice the whole thing. The Cooperative looked at us as laboratory rats and no one seemed to see that. Pathetic. 

I let out a sigh of annoyance and left the room.

                                                      ✦✦✦

I ran into Malcolm in the hallway an hour later and looked at him questioningly. 

“Oh, darling, I almost had a heart attack." He came closer and started whispering "I'm a bit scared of him. He is definitely hot as hell, but twice as evil."

I chuckled. "Well, that's quite a review. Did he tell you anything new?"  

Mr. Gallant leaned even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He asked me a lot of personal questions...I mean really personal."  

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

“Like my sexuality for example. And my nana. And other… things. Pretty intimate. I felt so uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it cool.” 

My eyebrows furrowed in interest. So these "Cooperating" sessions were, indeed, quite unique. It seemed like Langdon wanted to know every minuscule detail about each person. I began to wonder what kind of "personal" questions he would ask me. I also began to wonder why I was so looking forward to the moment. 

“I felt like he was trying to rip out my soul.” Added Malcolm in a whisper.

I smirked. "Well, that's quite a dramatic way to describe it." Malcolm chuckled nervously but I had a feeling that he wasn't exaggerating. Langdon was certainly not the type of man that you could fool easily. He could see right through people.

But something was intriguing. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of uncovering the depth of Langdon's scrutiny. 

 "I guess I'll have to brace myself for my turn then," I said nonchalantly.

“Good luck sweetheart.” We kissed each other on the cheek and went in different directions.

I slowly walked to my quarters, lost in thought. I was feeling an inexplicable mixture of excitement and curiosity. The thought of being examined by Langdon, being exposed under the watchful gaze of his sharp eyes, was somehow appealing. God, I have to stop.

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss these thoughts. "This is ridiculous," I mumbled to myself softly.

Suddenly I heard something. Something like a scream perhaps. I stopped and looked around. There was no one except me in this dimly lit hall. And then this sound again. More like a whisper now. Millions of whispers. My head began to spin slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Silence. Everything went quiet. I turned around and flinched as I saw Langdon behind me.

“Mrs. Y/S, I’d like to talk with you next.” 

I looked up at Langdon with a surprised expression, silently cursing myself for being so lost in my thoughts to the point of not noticing him coming closer. His presence was so powerful that it still made my heart flutter even now.

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. 

Langdon didn't bother answering, simply gesturing for me to follow him. I walked behind him through the maze of halls and rooms. 

We finally reached the entrance to what appeared to be his cabinet. Langdon stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Entering the room, I noticed how dark and ominous it felt. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with old leather-bound volumes. The main source of light was a fireplace.

Langdon gestured for me to sit down on the armchair across from him. I lowered myself gently, straightening my purple dress. 

He studied me, wanted me to be nervous, wanted me to crack. I knew this game. I have played this game with many different powerful men, who think they are Gods because they have dicks. I never lose in a game like this.

His eyes searched my face, trying to find any sign of weakness. But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.

I leaned back in my seat, a small smirk on my lips. "I see you're expecting me to be quivering in my boots," I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Langdon chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. 

A silence fell between us, and I held his gaze without flinching. Something about his demeanor made my heart beat a little faster, but I was determined not to show it.

“I prefer conversations to be effective, Mr. Langdon.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my remark, a smirk forming his lips. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Straight to the point, are we?" 

He studied me for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Well, I can appreciate a straightforward woman," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "It makes the process much more efficient."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never faltering. "Ms. Y/S," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a sinful whisper. "Allow me to ask you a personal question."

“Ask,” I replied.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes were laser-focused on me, and I could practically feel his gaze trying to pierce through my soul. 

"What do you fear the most?" he asked, his tone almost gentle.

I was caught off guard by the question and made a mistake. Langdon noticed the slight flicker of surprise in my eyes. He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may have mastered the art of bravado, but everyone has a weakness," he continued. "And I'm here to find yours." 

I watched him back and after crossing my legs answered "I fear being surrounded by idiots for the rest of my life." I needled.

Langdon raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, don't you?", he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

He leaned back in his seat, studying me closely. "Being trapped in a group of lesser minds for eternity may be torturous, especially for a woman of your... intelligence."

“For a man of your power, it’s a pity that you use flattery as a term of manipulation,” I said, tilting my head in a mocking manner. 

Langdon chuckled, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Ah, so observant," he said, still maintaining his smirk. 

He leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not just using flattery, Ms. Y/S. I do recognize your intellect. But don't mistake my compliments for manipulation. I simply use the tools at my disposal."

“Huh.”

Langdon chuckled again, clearly appreciating my dry response. "You have a sharp tongue," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It may be your unique feature or a pathetic attempt to hide your fear.”

I could feel a flicker of irritation at his words, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Langdon was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "Or perhaps you're simply not used to people who don't cower easily in front of someone higher in rank."

He stood up from his seat and started circling me slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the room. “Be careful, Ms. Y/S. Your bold attitude is admirable, but at some point, this can play a cruel joke on you.”  His gaze burned into me as he studied me from every possible angle.

“I appreciate the warning,” I said coldly. “I don't fear intimidation tactics.”

“You are a brave woman.” Langdon's voice was suddenly close behind me, his breath lingering on the nape of my neck. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I had to suppress the urge to turn around and look at him.

“A little too brave, some would say.” he continued, his words almost a whisper. “Tell me, Ms. Y/S, is it hard to be the smartest in the room? To be forced to communicate with idiots?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made me nauseous. But I still refused to let him see any sign of weakness. I sat up straighter in my chair, lifting my chin.

“It can be... annoying at times,” I admitted.

“It is irritating how arrogant the upper class is, isn’t it? Especially toward women.” I felt the touch of his fingers on my arm and I barely restrained myself from snatching my hand away. “The world before the bombs wasn’t that much brighter than this one, was it? They all mistreated you, and never took you seriously… Does the idea of them having everything infuriate you?”

His words hit a nerve, the subtle truth in them cutting through my defenses. Yes, the world before the bombings was far from perfect, and I had my fair share of disappointments.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had managed to hit a weak spot. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what makes you think you're any different from them?”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing along my skin, tracing patterns against the fabric of my dress. His nonchalant arrogance was both infuriating and strangely enthralling. 

“Oh, I never claimed to be any different," he responded, his voice low and husky. “But I will say this - I appreciate intelligence, especially in women. I can see your potential.”

“Potential,” I repeated, struggling to keep my tone even. “For what, exactly?”

Langdon ignored my question. His hands, now both on my arms, crawled up to my shoulders. “Have you ever thought about punishing them? About finally showing what you are capable of, so they would never think you are only ‘pretty face’ again?” His breath tickled my ear. “Have you ever thought about making them scared of you?”

His hands on my shoulders were deceptively gentle, yet they seemed to burn against my skin through the fabric of my dress. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered his words, making my breath hitch in my throat. 

I felt a strange mixture of anger and... excitement at his words. The thought had crossed my mind more than once if I was being honest with myself. To show them ALL how strong and brilliant I truly was. To shuffle a knife into someone’s throat. I remained silent. 

“I sense this force in you, Y/N.”

His voice seemed to fill the space between us, wrapping around me like a dark, intimate spell. He leaned closer, his chest almost pressed against my back. His hands remained on my shoulders, his fingers gently massaging my tense muscles. 

There was something about his voice, the way he said my name, that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through me, past the cool exterior I had been trying to maintain. He knew about the anger, the desire, the fire burning within me.

“I can tell you have a dark side,” he murmured, his voice deep and low. 

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Yes, you do.” His hands continue to stroke my shoulders gently. He was amused by my denial.

“You don't have to play coy with me, Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I can feel it radiating off of you. That simmering anger, that burning desire."

Langdon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You want... power. And I can promise you that.”

His words were a seductive murmur, weaving their way into my mind and planting thoughts of power and revenge. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push, what desires to awaken within me. 

"Power," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was swimming, both alarmed and intrigued by his proposal. I felt like I was hypnotized. "Why… What’s the point?"

Langdon chuckled softly, noticing the effect his words were having on me. He stepped away from me, his hands finally leaving my shoulders. He walked around the chair, standing in front of me again.

"Because, my dear," he began, "I've observed your potential. Your intelligence, your resourcefulness, your strength. You're not like the other people in this house. You have ambition. And ambition can lead to power."

He tilted up my chin gently, so I could meet his gaze. "And I can help you achieve it." His thumb traced my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his finger brushed against my bottom lip I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He smirked and leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from mine.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Did my touch... unsettle you?”

With a swift, almost graceful movement, Langdon sank to his knees in front of me. His hand found its way to my knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress.

“I think the interview is over,” I said, trying to stand up, but he pressed on my knee, not letting me get up.

“I will decide if it’s over or not, Ms. Y/S,” Langdon smirked at my silence, slowly running his hand higher up my thigh. He could clearly see the effect he was having on me, the slight tremble in my body.

“What?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “No witty comeback? No clever quip? Seems like you're losing your grip.”

"Losing my grip?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hardly. I am just amused by your behavior." Even a blind person would see my bluff and feign confidence.

“Oh? Really?” He stood up a bit, leaning closer to my face, almost whispering in my mouth. His proximity was intoxicating, his breath hot against my lips. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, the desire coursing through my veins like a current. He slowly brushed his lips against mine and I felt a touch of his tongue on my bottom lip. 

It felt like drugs. It felt better than drugs. His tongue teasingly tracing along my bottom lip sent a shiver down my spine, making my legs tremble beneath me. It was overwhelming. I have never felt like this before. In that very second I could do anything for this man.

Suddenly he stopped and looked me right into my eyes, smirking satisfiedly almost like he read a thought that just got in my mind.

He stood up, turning away from me and I bit my tongue not to moan in disappointment. 

“We’re done for today, Ms. Y/S. It was a pleasure talking to you,” He said, opening the door for me. Smirk remained on his face, but Langdon seemed very calm. As if he didn’t just kneel and almost kiss me two minutes ago. 

I needed a few seconds to understand what had happened, so I blinked and then quickly stood up walking toward the door.

“Hope you have a good night, Ms. Y/S,” he said watching me and I can swear, as he was saying that, his hand slid to cover his groin and he definitely wanted me to notice that. 

“Good night, Mr. Langdon,” I mumbled and left the room. 

What the fuck has just happened?

part two

[gladiatorcunt]

- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

[beegomess]

B.Z. || Fuck, I love everything about you

Summary: A silly argument and your pride keep you apart during the holidays. Your solution was to tease him until the last minute. Warnings: Smut, +18, teasing, oral sex.

Requests open!

Blaise had never acted that way. Throughout the relationship, you have never spent so much time without talking to each other. However, now things were different.

It all started with a silly argument on the train back home on the summer vacation. It was a good few weeks without exchanging a word, which was totally out of the ordinary for you. This situation made you think that he would break up with you as soon as they arrived at the station again.

The fact that you thought you were not wrong in the discussion contributed to the fact that you did not go to him either, and the pride between you became an increasing barrier.

With the return to school approaching, the expectation of seeing him again cheered you up and made you anxious. You couldn't help but think about what could happen. Would he say anything? If so, what would you say? Would I treat you normally? It was impossible to predict, and these uncertainties tormented you.

On the day of the return, he was there, walking on the train behind Draco, with his haghful posture and distracted look. You felt your heart tighten when you saw him, but soon looked away at Pansy, who was waiting for you at the door of the train. She smiled wide when she saw you approaching, but the forced smile and slightly worried eyes made it clear that she knew that her romantic drama still persisted.

- Haven't they solved it yet? - It was the first thing she said when she hugged you. During the holidays, you had told your friend about the fight, and she assured that Blaise would soon go back, after all, he was completely devoted to you.

- No. - You answered quietly, feeling your voice choke. Separating yourself from Pansy, you followed her into the cabins.

- Let's go to another cabin. Come. - Parkinson pulled his hand firmly, leading it through the agitated students who filled the corridor. The sound of laughter and conversations seemed distant as you let yourself be carried away, lost in your own thoughts.

Upon entering an empty cabin, Pansy closed the door and pulled the curtains, creating a small refuge from the chaos of the train. She sat in front of you, her eyes shining with curiosity and concern.

- Tell me everything. - She said, the soft and encouraging voice.

You started telling her detail by detail, from the little discussion on the train to the prolonged silence that followed. I watched her reaction to each word, noticing how she frowned at times and nodded slightly on others, always keeping her eyes fixed on you.

In the end, Pansy smiled as if the answer was obvious, which left you intrigued.

- What is it? - You asked, feeling your stomach turn with anxiety.

- When you told me they had fought, I thought of something a little more... seriously. - She mocked, a soft laugh escaping from her lips. You couldn't help laughing either, although the concern was still there.

- That's serious! - You exclaimed, but Pansy just laughed in response.

- I didn't know Zabini could be so stubborn with something so small. - She commented, and you rolled your eyes, a smile trying to form on your lips. - Ah, Y/N, come on. This is something very simple to solve. - She said, the confidence in her voice was almost contagious.

- I won't apologize, I wasn't wrong. - You argued, crossing your arms in defense. Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

- You won't apologize, just use some of her feminine gifts. - She cast a malicious look, arching an eyebrow in a suggestive way.

- Pansy, we are not exactly the kind of couple that solves problems with sex. - You answered, your voice a little firmer, although the idea made your face warm up slightly.

- It's okay, but look, this is not something serious to the point that you deny what sex it would solve, wouldn't it? - She smiled, leaning a little forward. - It always works for me.

You reflected on that, your mind coming back the last time you were together, before the fight. His touch, his intense look... maybe Pansy was right. Maybe pride could be put aside for a moment, just enough for you to reconnect.

- I don't know, Pansy... - You comment, feeling insecure, but Pansy insists, your determined gaze.

- Just try. Soon he will be after you again, apologizing for things he didn't even do, and you will thank me. - Parkinson gave a wink, a convinced smile on his lips, finally convincing you. - Let's start right now!

- What? No, he's with Draco there. - You argue, trying to imagine the embarrassing scene that would unfold. But Pansy was already getting up, a determined expression on her face.

- You're not going to climb his lap or anything like that, Y/N. - She rolls her eyes, as if the idea was too obvious. - You're going to innocently sit next to your boyfriend with your short skirt.

She fakes an innocent look as she begins to rummage inside her bag, her agile fingers pushing books and jars of potions to the side until she finds what she was looking for. With a victorious smile, Pansy removes a uniform skirt a little shorter than the one you usually wear, displaying it as if it were a rare piece.

- Wear this. - She orders, extending the skirt to you.

You take the hesitant skirt, watching the fabric while your mind imagines the scene: you entering the cabin, Blaise looking up when he sees you, the short skirt attracting your attention. Your heart rockets just thinking about it.

- Pansy, that's crazy. - You murmur slightly excited, but a part of you already feels tempted. Pansy always had a way to push you out of your comfort zone.

- Trust me, Y/N. - She says, her eyes shining with excitement. - It's going to work.

You change your clothes and finish dressing, feel a little exposed, but a confidence that Zabini would give in to this was something that encouraged you.

- Now, let's go. Merlin, I can't wait to see his face. - Pansy smiles, guiding you back to the hallway.

When they finally reach the cabin, you see Blaise and Draco talking. Blaise looks at you immediately and, for a moment, his gaze is fixed on the skirt. You enter the cabin, trying to act as naturally as possible, although the heart beats hard in the chest. When sitting next to him, the warmth of his body so close makes a shiver run through his skin. The environment seems to vibrate with the proximity, every detail becoming sharper.

You greet, the voice calm and familiar, as if nothing was happening. You cross your legs slowly, allowing the skirt to rise a little more, leaving your thighs on display.

Blaise responds with a stuffy "hi", but you notice the tension in your body. His gaze deviates from his eyes to his thighs scattered on the seat, quickly returning to his face as if he didn't want to be caught looking.

While the conversation flows between the friends who enter the cabin, you remain calm, apparently oblivious to the effect you are causing on him. Draco, Theodore and Lorenzo talk about the holidays, laughing and exchanging stories, but Blaise seems distant, the look getting lost in you at every opportunity.

Pansy sat in front of you, watching everything with a malicious smile. She realizes the impact of your strategy and gives you a slight nod of approval. You keep the conversation casual, playing with friends and smiling, as if you didn't notice the way Blaise struggles to concentrate.

He adjusts his posture several times, clearly uncomfortable, trying to focus on others, but his eyes betray the attention that is on you.

When you lean slightly to pick up a candy from Draco, which was at the tip of the front accents, Blaise almost loses his composure. Your eyes follow the movement of your waist, and you notice at a glance the swallowing of him dry.

You pretend not to notice, keeping your expression carefree. Inside, he feels a mixture of triumph and anxiety, waiting for the moment when he will finally give in and take the initiative to solve the situation between you.

With every laugh shared with friends, the tension seems to increase, creating a silent game between you and Blaise. He knows that you are there, more present than ever, and you feel that, soon, he will no longer be able to resist.

During part of the trip, you leaned your head on his shoulder and fell asleep, your fingers delicately intertwined around his arm. The familiarity of this gesture brought a silent relief to his heart. Despite the stubbornness and silence between you, you knew that he still loved you and took care of you when necessary.

Feeling the soft heat of his body against his, Blaise looked down, watching his legs slowly relax in his sleep. Worried that relaxation could expose more than necessary, he took his coat and carefully covered his legs, adjusting it to ensure that you were comfortable and preserved.

He couldn't help but appreciate the proximity, the feeling of his body resting on his. Every beat of his heart seemed to echo in the silence of the cabin. The torture of not having seen you for so long consumed him, and now, with you there, wearing the shortest skirt possible, as if everything was perfectly fine.

Blaise observed his calm face, the features softened by sleep. He allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, studying every detail, from the eyelashes that rested on his cheeks to the slight movement of his breathing.

The arrival at Hogwarts was marked by the familiar buzz of students getting off the train and heading to the castle. The night was cool, and the moon shone brightly, illuminating the way to the carriages pulled by testralliums. Blaise and you went down together, but the tension between you was still palpable. You, however, kept happy, talking excitedly with Pansy and the other friends.

Upon entering the Main Hall, the environment was illuminated by thousands of floating candles, and the long tables were already full of hungry students. They sat at Slytherin's table, you on one side, Blaise on the other, and the friends around. Dinner started with the sound of laughter and conversations echoing through the hall.

While you laughed and talked to Pansy and Draco, Blaise seemed quieter, focused on his plate. He looked at you from time to time, a mixture of frustration and fascination in his eyes. Every laugh of his seemed like a reminder of how much he missed you, and the tension he carried bothered him more every minute.

You, on the other hand, were completely at ease, smiling and having fun. The presence of your friends, the familiarity of Hogwarts and the proximity of Blaise, even if tense, gave you a sense of comfort.

In a moment, while you laughed at a joke Pansy told, she leaned over to you and whispered excitedly:

- I said it would work. - she said, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

You glanced at Blaise, who looked away quickly, trying to disguise it. A malicious smile appeared on your lips, and you went back to talking to Pansy, satisfied with the progress.

- He's still not apologizing for things he didn't do. - You mock and Pansy laughs discreetly, approaching you again and whispering.

- That's just a matter of time, believe me!

The dinner continued, and although Blaise was still tense, you knew it was only a matter of time until he finally broke the silence. You felt that, little by little, pride and stubbornness were giving way, and the inevitable proximity of Hogwarts would do the rest.

[...]

In the days that followed, Blaise thanked Merlin for not wearing those short skirts that made him lose his mind so much. Of course, your beauty always caught his attention, but it was easier to ignore when you wore ordinary clothes. However, he underestimated his determination.

You realized that it seemed perfectly calibrated with the persistent distance between you, that instability you caused on the train had already dissipated. This required a new attack on your part. Blaise talked to you only when necessary, and, well, you were partners in most classes, which made the teachers put you together in most schoolwork. You decided that you would use this to your advantage, ready to make him beg for you.

In the Potions class, you approached him with a provocative smile, sitting next to him and letting his soft and sweet perfume invade the space between you. When preparing the ingredients, you leaned a little more than necessary, while your hands moved gracefully over the materials.

During class, you made a point of "accidentally" letting your knee touch his under the table. Every little physical contact made your heart accelerate, and you saw the internal struggle in your eyes, trying to maintain your composure.

- Is it okay if we do this lesson in my dorm? - You ask with a calculated innocence.

Blaise's dark eyes finally meet hers, a mixed expression of frustration and understanding crossing her face. He knew exactly what you were doing, and the tension between you was palpable.

- Why don't we do it in the library? - He suggests, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

You tilt your head slightly, an innocent smile playing on your lips.

- Well, because we're boyfriends. What's the problem with being in a more comfortable place? - You insist, the mischievous look fixed in his eyes.

Blaise hesitates for a moment, the conflict evident in his expression before he finally gave in with a resigned sigh.

- All right, in your dorm then. - He agrees.

The smile you give you is full of satisfaction, knowing that once again you managed to break your defenses. The class continues, but the expectation of what is to come hangs between you, making every second more intense and electrifying.

[...]

The way to his room was a constant battle for Blaise to keep calm. His steps were heavy, and he took a deep breath at every moment, trying to focus on the pride that was still present. The hope of finding Pansy in the room and avoiding more provocations on his part was the only thing that gave him some relief.

When he finally arrived at the door of his bedroom, he hesitated for a moment before turning the handle. When he opened the door, what he found made his heart accelerate instantly. Your dark eyes fixed on you, still in uniform, but with an appearance that provoked an avalanche of emotions.

The shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of your skin, and the skirt, already a little shorter due to the position you were in, seemed out of place, almost as if you were trying to adjust to your body. You were lying on the bed, with your legs bent and your back resting against the headboard, a relaxed and provocative look on your face.

The scene in front of him was enough to cause a whirlwind inside Blaise. The effort to maintain control and not give in to provocation was visibly challenging. The atmosphere was charged, and the desire he tried to repress seemed almost palpable. He forced himself to enter the room, his face a mixture of frustration and desire, while trying to deal with the impact of the vision in front of him. The way to his room was a constant battle for Blaise to keep calm. His steps were heavy, and he took a deep breath at every moment, trying to focus on the pride that was still present. The hope of finding Pansy in the room and avoiding more provocations on his part was the only thing that gave him some relief.

- Hi, love. - You said with an innocent smile, a mischievous glow in your eyes that made Blaise shudder. - Sit down.

- I thought we were going to do the job. - Blaise replied, trying to keep her voice firm as she approached the bed and left the books on the mattress.

- I'm already doing it. - You wave the book in your hand as you sit on your heels with the intention of getting closer to your boyfriend. - Aren't you going to sit down, dear?

- Y/N, I know exactly what you're doing. - Blaise threw a severe look, trying to maintain seriousness, but his voice would betray his internal struggle.

You pretended not to understand, your smile just increasing.

- What is it, B? - You get too close for him. Your puppy eyes and the nickname that only you could use almost melting it completely. - You seem very tense.

- Don't pretend innocence with me, dear. - Blaise murmured, trying to keep his gaze steady while you ran your hands gently over his back. - I know you very well.

He sat at the end of the bed, as far away as possible, but you didn't hesitate to shorten the distance. The touch of his hands against his back caused him to look away to the side, struggling to pull himself together as his resistance began to give in.

His lips reached his neck, his nails scratching him slightly as they move the collar away to make room for his soft lips.

- I want you so much, love. - Your hot breath hits the skin of his neck in a whisper, making him shiver. - Please...

Blaise's breathing gets heavier, turning her body to you abruptly, grabbing your waist with a certain force and looking deep into your demonic eyes now.

- The things I would do to you if I had simply apologized. - His voice was lower, and his face very close to yours made his heart beat in anxiety.

That would be terrible for you, it was difficult to deny your boyfriend when he was so close to your body after so many weeks, just settling for memories. But he would beg even more if you focused on your initial plan.

Anyway, he started kissing her himself. A warm kiss with a wide longing. His well-known hands finally ran through his body, going directly to his skin below the fabric of his blouse. He smiles during the kiss when he hears a small sigh coming out of his lips in response to the chills he caused you.

Blaise pulled your body to sit on his lap, and so you did. Her legs were placed next to his, while her warmth approached the place where her boyfriend's pants became tighter. His hips moved, crawling over the hardness below you, making him moan muffled during the kiss, while the hands that were on his waist went to his thighs, climbing under his skirt.

- Damn short skirt. - He curses next to your ear while taking light bites on your neck.

You just smile in response, raising his face again to face his beautiful brown eyes even darker by desire. After a few seconds of admiration for her beauty, her lips come together again.

You start to get up, mentioning that you would move away, but Blaise's hands are faster and pull you with all their strength against you again. You smile and break the kiss to whisper.

- Don't you want me to apologize to you? - His provocative look gave him the answer he was looking for, smiling in reaction as he saw you kneel on the floor in front of him at the end of the bed.

His nails scratched him slightly on the fabric of the dress pants he wore, as he climbed his hands to the leather belt around Blaise's hips. He just watched his movements, completely devout and hypnotized, as Pansy assured.

When you finally opened the zipper and button, his hips lifted slightly so that you could pull the fabrics that surrounded you to get where you wanted. After releasing him, his hand went immediately to him, observing with bright eyes the way a transparent liquid was already forming on his tip.

His tongue dragged slowly along his entire length, leaving him more and more agitated and anxious to have you around him. Your eyes never leave his, just to capture the heavy sighs he gave when you put him whole in your mouth at once.

- Shit... - Blaise curses, bringing his eyes to you again, taking a hand to your hair, pushing you against it faster and faster.

Your movements don't waver even for a moment. You know him so well... Well enough to know that he was closer than ever now. The choking on his throat was just more fuel for him.

However, when he was about to pour himself into you, his mouth releases him abruptly. Blaise's confused eyes and face face his body to get up. His face had a victorious smile as he approached him, pecking his lips quickly.

- What? You didn't think I would really apologize, did you? - Your mischievous smile challenged him, leaving the boy in front of you frustrated and angry.

- What... What do I do with it? - He refers to himself.

You simply shrugged with an expression of someone who said "Solve you".

- You should get dressed, love. Pansy will be here soon. - You say as you enter the bathroom, knowing that you left him more possessed than ever.

You just heard him slamming the door of his room with more anger every second. In the hallway, Pansy found him with an unfriendly face, with decided steps as he closed his belt. A low laugh was given by her when she remembered that her plan worked out.

_______________________________

A/N: Dear friends, I hope you enjoyed it. I didn't find many imagines about Blaise, and I love him too much to leave him out. Anyway, I apologize for any translation errors and I would like to take this opportunity to ask you to send me more requests for imagines and headcanons. Let your mind flow without shame, I'll wait for you in my inbox!!

masterlist here!

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[aemondwhoresworld]

caption this :

[evanchantingpeters]

M' kay... I'm not drooling, you're drooling over Evan's hands! He's gonna be the end of me and my ovaries... Bye.

[i-love-it-loud]

I love that everyone on here has decided that Sihtric is Cregan Stark OR the guy from Vikings Valhalla is.

I will say I am bias towards Sihtric, I loved The Last Kingdom. I mean they already casted two people from that show *cough* Aemond *cough* Helaena soooo a third wouldn't hurt....

[j-eryewrites]

All of You

MAIN MASTER LIST

ANON Request: Okay I can't have enough Sherlock angst so maybe just some feels or kidnapping or something like that. Thanks for your great work <3🙇🏼‍♀️ 

ANON REQUEST 2: I love your fics 💕💕 if requests are open, could you do one with BBC Sherlock in which the reader is kidnapped? (but they both have not confessed their love for each other yet, and the kidnapping perhaps prompts Sherlock to confess. idk up to you!) i just l o v e your Sherlock one shots!!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Haunted house, drugging, weapons, canon typical violence, kind of OOC Sherlock, cursing (Let me know if I have missed anything)

Author's Note: So, I got two requests A WHILE AGO and they were so similar I just decided to combine the two of them. (Requests are still not open, I’m just getting to the ones I never got around to writing to.) As for requests, I will be opening them back up once Arbitrary Lives and A Sinner's Redemption have concluded, so start thinking of some request ideas!!

The irony of the situation did not evade you. Sherlock’s latest case involved a serial killer. A serial killer who they were looking for at an abandoned haunted house attraction. The home wasn’t actually haunted, it was just a place years ago that would host a scary Halloween amusement park. However, that information did little to ease your nerves. What made things worse was that Sherlock suggested to split up. You, John, and he would all go separate ways to search for the killer. 

Immediately, you had declined. You've seen too many horror movies with John to know that splitting up was the worst thing you could do. Not to mention the experiences you’ve had working with the consulting detective for years. Never split up, that’s what you told yourself, yet here you were, by yourself, walking down the dimly lit halls of the gigantic house. Your mind ran a-wire with the thought of how many hidden rooms and passageways that could be kept in the walls. That image alone terrified you. 

With each step you took the house creaked and groaned. If that wasn’t a big neon sign blaring to the killer that you were there, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t but wince as the whole house squeaked with your latest step and at that point, you weren’t sure why you were trying to be quiet. 

Muttering curses under your breath you lowered your torch and turned around. You wanted to find Sherlock or John. Their presence made you feel safer and all you wanted to be right now was safe. Your body shivered as a chill crept up your legs to the back of your neck. The waves of nerves tickled the minuscule hairs on your body and if this was a horror movie eerie music would be playing. 

“Why did the killer have to be in a haunted house,” you whined as you approached the stairs to the bottom floor of the home where you last saw your tall consulting detective. 

Looking down the wooden steps you searched for the bright light of Sherlock’s torch. There was no light to be found. You sighed and pulled out your phone trying to be smart about this. The bright screen of your phone illuminated your view darkening everything behind and in front of you. Your fingers danced across the screen as you pulled up Sherlock’s contact. You pressed a button. The screen flashed with Sherlock’s name and your phone buzzed. But before you could speak or before Sherlock could answer, everything went black. 

There was something so insightful about being knocked out: the darkness of everything, the pain you felt in the back of your head like a soundtrack, and the erasure of all feelings. It was almost impossible to feel terrified about the haunted house when you weren’t even conscious in the first place. It was oddly peaceful and quiet, something you haven’t known in a long time since working for Sherlock. You weren’t sure how you became unconscious in the first place. As you lay in the darkness, there was one thought floating around in your mind. Shit. 

____

“You’re finally awake,” a hoarse voice cooed. 

A harsh light crept into your view causing you to wince. You longed for the darkness that you were encased in moments before. Soon your eyes adjusted to the bright light and began to take in your surroundings. 

First things first, you were strapped down to a table. The straps were extremely tight leaving you with barely any room to breathe. You gulped and began to twist underneath the straps. If you could move in the first place. 

The voice tsked before laughing. “It’ll be a while before you can move. The paralytic works fast.” Your eyes widened and you began to whimper. “Don’t worry, you can still scream.” 

That when you saw them, your captor and the killer. Dauning a medical mask and surgical wear they leaned in close and sniffed you. You closed your eyes at the proximity, wishing that they wouldn't be real if you couldn’t see them. “I can smell the fear coming off of you. It’s intoxicating,” your captor chuckled. 

“No…” you whimpered. Your voice was barely audible. 

The killer pulled back away from you. “No?” 

In your mind, you could go two ways. The first option, go with the idea that your “no” was terrified and try and plead with the killer. It was dignified and kind of cowardly but it was what you wanted to go with. Second, you could play it off cool. Well, as cool as you could while being strapped to a table with the killer’s face hovering over you. You could fight back. Taunt him and maybe provide Sherlock and John with enough time to try and find you. God, you hoped that they’d find you and that your brilliant consulting detective could solve the case. Now that you thought about it the second option seemed more plausible. 

“No, he’s going to find me. He’ll beat you. That’s what he does,” you muttered. Your voice still trembled as you delivered this line, but your eyes conveyed your determination and belief in what you said. 

All enjoyment from the killer’s face vanished and a darker expression replaced it. The look they were giving you would have paralyzed you if you weren’t already drugged. Their breath was scalding hot as they breathed into your ear. “He’ll never figure it out.”

You scoffed. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? He hasn’t even figured out that you’re gone.” They pulled down their medical mask to flash you a wicked grin. “This house has so many rooms. Twist and turns. You’ll be dead before he finds this room. 

You paled. All hope of playing it cool dissipated. You were terrified: Breath evaded you, your heart beat faster than it ever had before, your blood ran cold, and tiny beads of sweat encased your body. 

“I’m right.  You can even see him here,” the killer pulls up video footage of the house. In the middle of all the split screens, you can see Sherlock and John searching. A tight pain in your chest formed at the sight. “You know that your dear detective is too enamored with the case to remember that others exist. It’s a game and he wants to win, even if it means some of his teammates get left behind.” You can’t help the tears that pool in your eyes causing them to laugh. “It’ll be too late when he realizes it and the closest thing he’ll have to you again are the organs that will be in the bodies of others. You’ll be de–”

“Wrong.” 

You sobbed upon hearing that voice. It was Sherlock. He was here. He had come. The killer whirled around to find Sherlock standing with a gun in his hand aimed at them. 

“How…” the killer said. 

“Should’ve checked your cameras, then you would have realized they were on a loop,” the comforting voice of John spoke. 

The killer’s jaw clenched. 

“John,” Sherlock said. “ Get Y/N.” 

John snuck out behind Sherlock and carefully moved over to you. His eyes scanned over your distressed figure as his hands began to fiddle with the straps. 

“It’s alright, Y/N,’ John whispered as he untied the woman. 

“I can’t,” you shook your head. “...I can’t move.” 

John’s eyes filled with worry as the killer chuckled. “She’s paralyzed. I wouldn’t move her if I were you.” The killer turned around to look back down at you. 

“If you move one more centimeter there will be a bullet lodged in your head,” Sherlock growled. 

“You wouldn’t,” the killer hissed. 

“On the contrary. I like to win my games, even if it means that the rules are bent.” Sherlock’s eyes were glaring at the killer. 

Suddenly a muffled voice came from above. It was Lestrade. “Sherlock?”

“Down here, Gary!” 

Time seemed to move superficially fast as the police entered the basement.  However, time stilled the moment Sherlock retrieved you. John tried his best to pick you up but with the combination of his size and your apparent unmoving state, he found himself useless. Instead, Sherlock stepped up. With limp limbs and a stiff body, Sherlock lifted you off the cold and hard metal table. His gentle hand cradled your head as your body curled into him. He carried you as if you were the most precious and fragile things in the world. His secure and stable arms wrapped around you, pulling you immensely too close to his body, but you did not mind. He was warm and you were cold. He was safe and you were scared. Sherlock was exactly what you needed, and he was there. He was always there for you. 

Soon the blaring lights of the police cars filled your vision, concealing the ambulance waiting for you. You hated you couldn’t cling to Sherlock as he passed you over to the EMTs. They scanned your body checking for injuries and asking you questions while they did so. With each response and your insistence on your perfectly fine well-being, the EMTs grew more and more concerned. They wanted to take you to the hospital, but that was the last place you wanted to be: being strapped down to a table, with an IV in your arm, the medical masks, and scrubs. It was all too much too soon. The fear in your eyes was apparent at their conclusion, but before you could open your mouth to display your concerns, Sherlock spoke.

“She’ll be coming home with me.”

“But sir, she’s still drugged and paral–,” the EMT began. 

“If you just used your eyes, you would see that the hospital is the last place she wants to be,” Sherlock interjected. 

The EMT briefly gazed over at you before recognizing the truth in Sherlock’s words. 

“She still needs to be checked on after th–”

“I’m a doctor, I can make sure everything is alright,” John chimed in. 

You looked at John and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” your hoarse voice whispered. 

John smiled back. The EMT looked between the three of you and sighed placing her hands on her hips. “Alright, I’ll sign off on the paperwork and she’s free to go.” 

The moment the paperwork was signed, you were whisked back to Baker Street. Sherlock never left your side as he carried you into his and John’s shared flat and placed you down on their sofa. Mrs.Hudson had brought up tea and snacks in an attempt to get something into your stomach. However, the idea of shifting your body to raise your arms and extend your hand to retrieve the cup of tea and biscuits seemed too big of an ordeal. You were exhausted. Instead, you found the weight of your head too much to bear and collapsed onto Sherlock’s shoulder. With one look, John and Mrs. Hudson ushered themselves out of the flat. 

Your body was still trembling as the mental scars still flashed vividly in your mind. 

“You’re safe,” Sherlock hummed in a soothing voice. His gentle arms came up to wrap around your torse encouraging a wave of stillness to course through your body. You weren’t sure of what to say. So many ifs running through your head, so you settled for a thank you. 

Sherlock responded by pulling you closer. “I’ll always find you.” 

A watery smile appeared on your face. It was a smile that you forced as tears crept into the corner of your eyes. “Well, if you hadn’t made it in time, I would have given you my skull. That way you’d always have me on your mantel.” You tried to laugh. It was a poor attempt at a joke and you weren’t really sure why you were making it. You just did. 

Sherlock pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. You tried to look away, but his firm hand cupped your chin directing your gaze at him. “No. I don’t want your skull. I want you alive and safe. Anything less and I’ll never be satisfied.” 

His eyes seemed to glow as you stared into them. The gorgeous blue lulled you in like a siren at sea. You couldn’t turn away as he brought your face closer to wipe away the tears that had fallen from your face. 

“Okay,” you said in a hushed tone.

Sherlock seemed content with that answer and pulled you in to brush his lips against your forehead. He wanted to do more but now wasn’t the time. He wanted to whisper his heart and soul’s greatest secret into your ears and breathe it into your skin. He wanted you, all of you, but for now, holding you close, your heart thumping against each other, and the peaceful melody of your breath against his neck was all he needed.

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the Sherlock One shot tag list! Feel free to reblog or comment, I love hearing from readers.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair

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[coldgardengentlemen]

Okay I may or may not have gotten so fed up with the lack of Mr. House fanfics that I wrote one myself but I've never written fanfic before and I'm scared to share it 🫣 also it's very smutty, let me know if you guys are interested in this.

Prewar! Jelous! Robert House x Reader

Content warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, mild arguing, spanking, dom and sub dynamic, hair pulling, degration, humiliation, crying but nothin too intense, use of sir by reader, sex, house calls himself daddy, fingering, oral sex (female recieving), piv sex, light choking, cigarette play, human ashtray, readers head goes burrrr when someone touches their ear, allusion to sugarbaby lifestyle, overstimulation, orgasm denial, aftercare, porn with some plot

Ahhhh! I'm actually so nervous. Basically, the reader makes Mr. House jealous during a party and fifty smut ensues 🫣

[rosiesatombomb]

Mr house/Jane/Reader relationship hcs

Gn reader, sfw, Mr house polycule

Sorry if this was short!! I couldn’t exactly figure out what all to write 💔

Requests still open!!

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

Mr house and Jane are a package deal

Mr house dosent strike me as the monogamous type

Even when he was alive he had rumors floating around about him and multiple different women, I do not think he could be exclusive

Jane doesn’t mind, she likes the extra company!

Mr house doesn’t care whether or not you want to set up romantic dates, it’s up to them and Jane

Jane loves to set up romantic dates but it’s a little difficult to figure out how exactly to,,do it?

Mr house and Jane don’t eat and they can’t exactly do typical romance stuff

Mr house suggests basically setting up a dinner table in front of his monitor and just,,having dinner in front of it

You guys all basically talk about things while their partner eats

Jane will usually come up with typical date ideas and purpose them to her partners to see if it’s something they’d like to do

Mr house is a homebody and just likes to stay up in the lucky 38 and Jane likes the idea of going on picnic dates out in the wasteland

It’s hard to show typical physical affection to the both of them but you guys figure it out via new technological advances to the securitrons or something of the sort

[experimentalmonster2015]

young mr house hugs you!!

A brief and gentle pat on the back, A cologne that smells like expensive wood, A direct and confident gaze, A firm but brief embrace, A firm handshake that lingers for a beat too long, A practised smile, A raised eyebrow as mr house says, "It's been a pleasure" A smile that is warm and genuine, yet calculating, A suit jacket that is tailored just a little too well,

[lesbian-deadpool]

Y/N: Afab? No. I think some firefighters are alright.