#poor woman being tormented..

[meilas]

🧦❤️🧀

😒😒😒

[ozzgin]

Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

[barleyo]

*licks teeth and pins u against the wall* so uh...how bout one of those big bro leon fics, *I say with a glint in my eyes*

Purist.

Big Bro! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: *quivers and covers chest nervously* w-w-well, i-i guess i could write a— a little something... *eyes shift awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with a gulp* uhm... here. i, uh, i hope you enjoy... (some of the dialogue is inspired by the 2007 movie teeth :3)

Tags: incest (brother-sister)/(daddy-daughter mentioned), coercion, dub-con, religious themes, allusion to p in v/a /no real penetration mentioned, fingering (anal and vaginal f receiving), brief mentions of previous sexual assault/abuse

Wordcount: 2.1k

You spent the entirety of your mid to late teen years obsessed with God. With purity. With salvation. Your parents dragging you and your brother, Leon, to church must've eventually struck a cord with you. Ever since the youth pastor chewed up that bubblegum and offered it around to everyone, making the point that nobody wanted a tainted 'treat,' the idea of staying untouched seemed to just click into place for you. Your body was a sacred thing, not to be touched or looked at lustfully by any man. 

Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation, as the great St. Augustine said. Why not swear yourself to chastity? A bond of complete celibacy, of purity, promised by you to your Lord.

Unfortunately, your big brother didn't seem to feel the same way.

Leon was your exact opposite, in the way that he couldn't spend a night alone. While you would sit in your room, reading or studying like a proper girl, the wanton sound of a random female companion of his would rip through the paper thin walls of your parent's house. Every night, or what felt like it, he would bring home a 'date,' as you called them, though, he would sooner call them 'easy sluts.' 

You weren't easy. Leon liked that about you. Every crude joke he made at your expense, wether at the dinner table or in the brief expanse of the hallway near your rooms, you shut down immediately. You were too maidenly for your own good, and unafraid to show it. Oh, he really liked it. Not like those other whores he'd snatch up on the way home, were you? His boyish, smug grins did nothing to bring you, his darling little sister, to your knees in the way it did other women your age. 

Maybe that was why he did it— bringing those girls over. He knew good and well you could hear them— hear him— through the thin walls. He could tell based on the way you looked at him with scornful eyes the morning after as he accompanied the umpteenth girl of his to the front door, tactfully kicking her out with the promise of calling her back. Of course, he did no such thing, the womanizer that he was. He'd wink at you. Taunting you. 

Maybe he did all of this to tempt you, to show you what you were missing out on. Maybe he was sending you a message. An offer? No. The more likely option was that he just liked to tease you. Yes, that seemed more 'brotherly.'

It was another night. Another sleepless night of being tormented by the lewd sounds coming from your older brother's room. You could practically hear the individual squeak of every spring in his old mattress as he used whatever girl he had with him now. You heard her muffled voice. Poor girl must've had her face pushed into the pillow. Maybe she was ugly. Leon always let the pretty ones look at him while he sexed them up— you could tell because you heard their voices much clearer in the night. 

It was nearly melodic. Hearing almost every movement between the two. You could piece it together in your mind, and before you knew it, you had your eyes tightly shut, imagining the scene.

You pictured it in more detail than you thought the Lord would be appreciative of. You saw your brother's toned back with his tapered waist, his taut muscles clenching and coated in a slick sheen of sweat as he worked his hips against a faceless girl's heat. It was a dance. You seemed to imagine it more passionate than it sounded. Where the girl next door was certainly getting pounded, your imaginary girl was being treated tender and soft. Gentle strokes accompanied by a firm grasp. 

You were yet again reminded the next day of how much different your real brother was to the version of him your mind conjured up the previous night. Not nearly as sweet, that was for sure. 

You pushed into his room, not bothering to give him the dignity of a knock. That was another thing he liked about you. For how meek and God-fearing you seemed to be, you could be a real bitch to your dear ol' brother. He found it sort of funny, the juxtaposition between how you really were and how his lackadaisical manner made you act. 

"We need to talk about your girlfriends," you said, slamming his door behind you. The breeze caused by the door made a few of his classless pin-up girl posters swish upwards, hanging on for their lives against the black walls of his room by the tiny scraps of tape he stuck them with. 

"Don't have any," Leon said casually, legs spread and arms over his chest. He tossed a baseball up and down, catching it in his palm as he leaned his head against his headboard. 

You huffed and stomped over to his bedside to snatch the baseball. He let you grab it, shooting you an amused grin as you palmed the ball far too big for your hand. 

"Well, whatever you want to call them—"

"Let's just call them whores, yeah?"

"I'm not going to call them that," you spat, eyebrows raising into your hairline. "Your 'friends.' How about that? Your 'friends' need to stop coming around. I can't live like this. I can't sleep!"

"Awh, poor thing. Your grade in 'prissy bitch' class must be dropping now. Y'fall asleep during your stick-up-the-ass exam, college girl?" he asked, nose scrunching teasingly as he eyed you. He reveled in how your offended look grew. 

"Can you take anything seriously, you ass?" You dropped his baseball to the floor and kicked it under his bed, to which he mumbled 'bitch' and an additional explicative or another under his breath. "Last night was ridiculous. I didn't get a wink of sleep. These walls aren't nearly as thick as you act like they are."

"Oh, you heard that? What, it turn you on or something?"

You stilled, arms rising back to cover your chest defensively. It didn't turn you on, per se, but it did something, that was for damn sure. You weren't about to confess that to Leon, though. Not if you had a choice. 

"No, it did not 'turn me on,' Leon. Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does everything come out on instinct?"

"Instinct. So, Virgin Mary, what're you harassing me about now? You don't enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of random chicks getting smashed?"

He sat up straight, back flush to his headboard now as he turned to face you. 

You got a good look at his features. Looked a lot like your dad. Score! Perfect excuse, suddenly coming to mind.

"No, I don't. I'm sure daddy doesn't appreciate it either," you said, trying to guard yourself with the veil of your father. 

Leon snorted. "Well, I guess daddy dearest will just have to come tell me himself then, won't he? Seems like he's too drunk nowadays to hear anything," he said, voice nearing bitter territory. 

"Don't talk about dad like that," your voice taking on a more protective edge in your father's defense. "He's going through a rough time. He doesn't need your shit."

"And I don't need yours. This whole abstinence thing has your horse pretty high, you know." Leon shifted his legs over the side of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Most of the humor he had left in his voice had drained out, being replaced with a seriousness. "You aren't slick."

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyebrows pinching together. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, sis," he said, mocking tone lacing the nickname, "we both know who you're saving yourself for, and I've been real patient up until now. I'm not gonna wait forever."

You wanted to repeat yourself, you wanted to ask just what the hell he meant by that, but he interrupted your train of thought.

"You think I couldn't hear you listening like a little pervert? Hell, even before I started bringing girls home. I couldn't jerk off without seeing you peeking through the crack in my door. Like I said, you aren't slick. You act like you're all hard and saintly, but you're just a nasty pervert, aren't you?"

So many thoughts ran through your head. So many emotions. Embarrassment, for one, at the fact that he knew of your dirty secrets regarding him. Anger at how casually he was airing this information. A strange warmth, as well, at how he teased you. You should've been screaming at him, at twisting this around on him, but you couldn't. 

"I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, eyes dropping to your feet in shame. 

Leon just hummed in response, clearly not in dire need of an apology. In fact, he looked rather unfazed, like it was no problem for him at all.

"If you want to apologize, you can bring your little ass over here. Sit down, pervert."

"I don't know why you're acting so fidgety about this. You give it up to dad all the time, what's so different about me?"

Fuck. Leon really knew everything about you. This entire night was like having someone read your diary out loud to you, hearing every 'secret' you thought you had kept so well. 

"Shut up," you said, eyes clenched shut tightly as Leon curled his fingers up against your g-spot again. You bit back the urge to whine or moan. With how much he was teasing you, you didn't feel that he deserved the satisfaction. 

"Wonder what everyone would think. Daddy's good girl is good for more than she lets on, huh? Bet everyone already knows. There's no way a girl like you hasn't been taken before. Ain't a man on earth who wouldn't try it, y'know?"

You hated how that made you tighten around his fingers. Was that really what made you cum? Your brother calling you rapeable? The entire situation was so far out of your wildest imagination. A far cry from what the other girls he entertained had experienced, you were sure of that. 

Or, maybe, the way that he let your face upwards was what did it for you. Last you remembered, the rule was pretty girls faced up, ugly girls got flipped. Guess that counts for something. 

"I'm real fascinated by your pussy," Leon said after a few moments of silence. He was sitting between your legs, cock sprung free from his boxers as he kept his fingers plugged into your hole. He watched as your hole continued to kick and squeeze over his two digits. 

"I can tell. You won't stop lookin' at it," you mumbled, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your palms. 

"Not what I meant. Just meant it's pretty."

You don't know why you blushed at such a meaningless, near-objectifying compliment. A small part of you said that if Leon had seen so many in his life, and he said yours was pretty, then surely that meant something. You felt honored, in a weird way. 

"Bet it'll be even tighter around my cock."

"What? No, no, we can't do that, Leon," you said quickly, pulling away from his finger with a squelch. You tried to pull your panties up, but he stopped you. 

"Who says?"

You thought about it. You wanted it, sure. Really bad, actually. So, who says? Who said that you couldn't take a brief pause from chastity? You quickly told yourself what you said each time your father got a little too drunk a little too late a night and missed your mother a little too much. 

"Just be gentle," you said, exactly how you would on the nights where you looked a little too much like your mother. 

"Don't worry."

You expected to feel his cock swab against your folds. You expected to feel the eerily familiar pinch and stretch of being penetrated, but it didn't come. Your walls clenched almost eagerly around nothing. 

Instead, your eyes widened in shock at the feeling of a finger trailing around your asshole. Leon aimed his head forward and spat a fat glob onto your rim, rubbing it around to coat your hole. 

"Wait— Leon! Don't do that," you whined, feeling him finger sink in and stretch the ring of muscle. 

"You aren't a true-virgin anywhere else, sis. I wanna pop this cherry before someone gets to it before I do."

God, he was cruel. What was crueler was the way he prodded another finger into your hole like it was nothing. At least he had the awareness to spit again, coating the middles of his fingers in an attempt to ease the pain in your end. It worked, as well as spit could. 

His head dipped down and his tongue latched to your clit, giving it a few purposeful sucks before pressing a kiss to it too, piercing eyes looking at you from between your thighs. 

"Besides, anal doesn't really count, right? Isn't that what all you pure-not-so-pure girls say?"

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi, I'm not sure if you requests are open but I'd like to ask for a Lucifer Morningstar x oblivious! fem! reader. He met her when he visited the hotel and was immediately intrigued when Charlie told him that she was a a fallen angel. Later on he decides to court her but she is oblivious to his advances. Fluff! Have a good day/night!

Too Sweet~

Lucifer x Oblivious Kind! Reader

You were just so sweet and innocent, so kind and loveable. When in heaven, people compared you to an older version of Emily. Even though you had more life experience than the young Seraphim, you were still naive and careless about many things around you. From Adam’s insults and comments to even Sera’s darker tendencies, you saw nothing but the good in them all.

That's why you saw the good in her when Charlie came to Heaven to discuss her hotel with everyone. You saw the good in the program that she wanted to found. Unlike Emily, though, when Sera commanded you two to stop, you kept going, pleading with everyone to hear Charlie out. In turn, you were cast to hell with Charlie and Vaggie for insubordination.

Your appearance in Hell shocked most residents as you lay next to Vaggie and Charlie. A tall red man was grinning down at you, a cat-like creature had a grimace, and a spider was making a comical ‘O’ face. Sitting up with everyone as Vaggie went to explain to Charlie the hard news that was broken just before your fall, she was cut off by Charlie's overly nice voice. “Everyone listen up. The Hotel is in danger, and this poor angel Y/N was the only one on our side. She was cast down here with us after the news of Adam coming to attack in less than a month.” Surprise at your visit was quickly replaced with terror at the knowledge that the hotel was in danger. Charlie had locked herself in her room, tormenting herself with the knowledge that she had let everyone down. You, however, were being safeguarded by Vaggie. She intended to help Charlie as much as possible until she was ready to talk about everything, including keeping you safe from these sinners who walked amidst you. 

You liked everyone you met, though. Your first conversation with the spider named Angel Dust was entertaining enough. He got so confused and frustrated that you didn’t understand what he was saying to you. According to the cat Husk, you were just too innocent for Angel to handle. However, that didn’t stop a growing friendship between you three. They slowly taught you different things in hell, as you wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

Against Vaggies best wishes, she allowed such a bond to form her, taking pity on your situation you still hadn’t fully grasped. You rivaled the naivety of even the snake demon Sir Pentious, leaving everyone, including him, to protect you. The only demon you weren’t a massive fan of in the hotel was the Radio Demon Alastor. He asked so many tough questions you couldn’t discuss about Heaven. He always had an odd smile, and everyone warned you never to make a deal with him, especially since your pure angelic soul would amount to so much for him in the overlord world. 

That’s why when Charlie came downstairs, Vaggie worried and yelling about the deal the Radio Demon and her made. You felt so guilty since you knew Vaggie wasn’t there to protect Charlie, and you had Vaggie's attention solely on making sure you didn’t mess up. Guilt ate you up, so while Vaggie went and talked to a woman named Camilla and Charlie left with the Radio Demon to speak to his friend, you led the charge building defenses for the hotel. 

You had seen the Exorcists work before; you even trained with them a handful of times, seeing as Adam wanted you a part of his team. The only thing that stopped your addition to the Exorsits was that you were a gentle soul that could never kill. You would do what you must to protect your new family. You helped board up windows, aligned Sir Pentious's weapons for him, and even found some hidden weaponry in the hotel.

You may be oblivious and naive, but Adam gave you one thing in Heaven: warrior skills. With that said, as Vaggie returned from Camillas with a new spark in her eye, you were eager to learn from Vaggie how to take down your brethren. You believed in Charlie's dream and would not allow it to falter because of Sera or Adam. 

As Vaggie was training you and the other hotel residents to fight, a stampede of new sinners joined in, led by Charlie. With these numbers, you might stand a chance against the battle soon. You were so happy to see Charlie and Vaggie whole once again; it didn’t even register in your mind what sick joke Angel made about their ‘last night’ together. 

The execution day was upon you all, and the battle was fierce and intense; you gave it your all, fighting those you once saw as sisters. Your angelic wings allow you to fight high in the sky with them. That is when you saw another gorgeous angelic creature. It wasn't an executioner or Adam. It was someone far more beautiful, with six bright white wings and deep red feathers underneath. In your awe-struck moment, you almost missed a fatal blow from an exorcist. 

The fight ended with the beautiful creature you soon figured out was Lucifer, having shown kindness to Adam. Though the little demon Niffty ended him, you were still impressed with his grace and poise. He was one of the Archangels now fallen and ruler of hell. Your face was warm seeing him in his glory. As you guys tallied your dead and helped Charlie recover, you kept feeling your eyes drift to the king of hell.

You had never seen someone so beautiful and angelic, even in his demon form. You wanted to ask him many questions, but your fear of being weird or crazy overtook you. Sticking to Husk and Angel's sides, you helped with the rebuilding process, and your wings also gave you an advantage in the rebuilding stage. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone's eyes were also trained on you. 

Once the hotel was rebuilt and everything was said and done, Charlie took the time to introduce you to Lucifer. “Okay, dad, this is Y/N. She came from heaven with me and Vaggie after our meeting, which led to this. As you can tell, she is also a fallen angel.” The look on Lucifer's face was akin to fear and disgust in your mind. You didn’t mean to offend him with your presence. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious and excused yourself to return to Husk and Angel's party at the bar. While you walked away, Lucifer noted your wings and looks. He wasn’t disgusted by you; quite the contrary, he thought you were beautiful and worthy of heaven, not this place.

Lucifer took up Charlie's offer to move into the hotel. Not only to help out and gain more Sinners but also to be closer to you. The only problem was you couldn’t be any denser. He tried talking to you many nights sitting at the bar, yet you were so involved in Angel and Husk’s stories that he couldn’t get a word in. By the time the two would call it a night and head to bed, he would be too drunk to speak to you coherently, leading to you walking him up to his room and helping him get rest.

You were so oblivious and nice. He loved that about you, though. You always saw the good in everyone, and Charlie appointed you as a hotel therapist. As Sinners came to be redeemed, you could sit with them and talk about what they needed to do to heal. You could find the good in even Alastor, and that was impressive in and of itself. As Alastor noticed the king's interest in you growing, he couldn’t help but play games with the king's head. 

This would lead to countless heated battles that had you and Charlie seperating the two so they didn’t destroy the new hotel. You always took Lucifer's side and helped calm him down while Charlie took Alastor's. Charlie had 100% not planned this at all since she, too, noticed her father's growing interest in you. She is eager to see her father move on and be happy again. 

One fight led to a particularly rough love confession that led to an entire-blown relationship. After Alastor had paraded you around hell all day, Lucifer was boiling; how could you not see that Alastor was just using you to flaunt status? If anyone should have you on their arm walking around, hell, it was him. Thus, the battle between the two started. “Alastor, just what do you think you are doing taking the hotels Angel out on the town.” “AHAHA Lucifer, you make no sense. Angel is right over there, not on the town,” Static filled the area from his joke as a laugh track played. “You know precisely what I am talking about, tall and freaky. Y/N shouldn’t be going out there. It is dangerous for her.” You could practically see his horns protruding. 

“Oh, little man, I fear there is some jealousy coursing through you. Are you just mad she will humor me and my time while giving you nothing?” The static grew louder, and Alastors' smile only grew wider.

Slowly, you pulled yourself off Alastor's arm and made your way between the two. “Excuse me to the both of you; I can make my own choices, thank you very much. I may be naive and still learning, but if I am to be stuck here in hell forever, I want to know all that I can so I don’t end up hurt. Alastor, as much as I appreciate your time, you will stop antagonizing Lucifer immediately. Lucifer, if you want to take me out so bad, just do it.” Your eyes were fierce when you looked at both men. 

Alastor smirked and made his way to his tower, knowing your power as an angel had passed him, even in your innocent mind. Whereas Lucifer stared at you, shocked. You just asked him out; you asked him to take you out on the town. He was smiling from ear to ear, so happy at this admission. Your confused face, however, quickly altered his excitement.

“Luce? What is wrong? I am sorry if I was too mean.” Your words were so kind; maybe that hurt him the most. Knowing you didn’t mean it. You didn’t want him to take you out cause you liked him. You were just trying to defuse the situation. He felt his face drop, and he hung his head. Getting ready to go back to his room to wallow in self-pity, he felt two dainty arms wrap around him. “I didn’t mean to upset you; I am so sorry…” Your words cut him like a knife. He wished he was strong enough just to say it, not hidden in his guilt and depression over losing everything once. Yet your warm grasp and soft voice lit something deep within him. Slowly, he turned around in your embrace, pulling you firmly into him. 

“Y/N, you injure me so. You were flaunting your friendships with the others. Being so kind and charismatic with all that come and go from our home. How do you hold my heart as tight as you do when I swore off so long ago, loving once again?” He hoped you heard him well. He hoped you understood his plight and that he loved you. His heart sank at your words as he felt your arms tighten around him. “Oh, Luce, we are friends. I love being your friend more than anything. I am sorry if my yelling made you think otherwise. I will refrain from going out with Alastor as much.” How could you be so oblivious but so majestic and beautiful simultaneously? He pulled you away, looking into your eyes. Your faces were only a few inches apart.

“No, Y/N, listen to me, listen to the words I am saying. I love being your friend, too, but I love you. I want to be more than friends or best friends. I want to spend our infernal days locked here in hell as one. I thought I would only love Lilith and never overcome her love. However, as the seven years of her absence went by, I learned that the love I had then was long gone. That's when I saw you that day fighting Adam and the Exorcists. You are beautiful and light, and everything good I once wanted to share in the world with mortals. Please, Y/N, hear me when I say you are more Angelic than even I, and I love that about you. I love you.” He was red in the face. He hadn’t wanted his confession to be like this. He didn’t want it to be in the middle of the lobby.

Your eyes were wide as he saw your mind trying to process everything. A silent hush fell on the room. That is when he saw the most beautiful thing he had ever seen: your warm, bright smile directed at him and him alone. Soon, your arms were around his neck as you kissed his cheek, his face growing more red.

“I love you too, Lucifer; I didn’t know you had these feelings. I know I am a bit slower than others, especially because of my upbringing in heaven. I would love to live by your side, though. Everything makes so much more sense now why Charlie had been pushing me to spend time with you and all of Angel's jokes at the bar.” You had a lilt in your voice and a soft, breathy laugh at the end. He added everything to the list of lovely characteristics that made you what you are. He smiled wide and pulled you into him. “You missed.” As you went to question him, your voice died on your tongue as he placed his lips upon yours. The kiss was sweet, tasting like sugar and honey. The most divine thing either one of you had experienced. Some claps and wolf whistles let out as the lobby was filled with the inhabitants cheering you two on. This only fueled Lucifer's pride as he dipped you, causing a brief squeak to leave your lips before he claimed them once again. 

What could he say? Kissing you was just too sweet.

[libbyfandom]

Heartbeat

(((This one got kind of, I don't know how to describe it other than I made my own heart sink. Yikes.)))

Possible Triggers: To cover it, there's one explicit sentence about SA. And Mizu has a breakdown.

“My son told me he spotted that Onryō that was seen outside the village.” You hear an older man’s voice a couple tables away as he sits down.

A second one answers, “The guards said he had a woman with him.”

The first man speaks quieter, in a hardened voice. “Truly?”

“Yes. The poor thing was following so close to it. Do your u think she’s controlled by it?”

You take a sip of your tea slowly, staring out the window as the last of the sun’s rays pull away from the street outside.

“But Onryō don’t enslave people, only torment or kill them, don’t they?”

“Maybe this one desired the girl for worse things.”

There’s an eerie lull in the two men’s conversation, imagining the horror of a demon growing in strength and lust for evil.

Your eyebrows furrow, and you stop the condescending sigh that’s rising in your chest.

“How would it even do that?”

Out of the corner of your eye you see the second man lean closer to his companion. “Maybe he ate her heart.”

Your fingers tighten on your cup, your mouth forming a thin line from how your body is slowly tensing up in anger.

“Think about it,” he continued, painting the scene. “The heart chakra is the center of compassion, empathy, forgiveness. An Onryō?” He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “It’d tear it right from her chest and swallow it into his empty stomach. Instantly she’s tied to it forever, forced to follow the monster that has her heart and suffer it’s desires.”

You take a shaky breath through your nose, setting your cup down. Your stomach is tensing from the urge to find the nearest teapot and just upend the burning liquid over their heads with a impassive face as they scream and burn.

You’re about to stand up when a hand, slender but rough, wraps around your shoulder. A kasa blocks your side view of the men. A familiar pair of lips find their way to the spot behind your ear. “I’m done. Let’s get back to the room,” they murmur.

You try to tilt your head around her large hat to set your hardened eyes on the men again. You estimate if you could successfully make it over there before she grabs you.

“Don’t.”

You turn and look into blue eyes hidden by orange lenses.

“I’ve heard worse,” she utters plainly, glancing outside to see a passing guard. Her hand goes to the hilt of her sword.

The ends of her fingers trail down from your shoulder to press over your heart, feeling it beat under her touch.

A murmur. “Let’s go. Now.”

She guides you with a hand on the small of your back through the tables. You turn and stare with barely contained disgust at the men as you pass by, and it infuriates you when they don’t even notice.

Only a handful of steps away from them the first one blows out a deep breath. A low laugh. “Maybe if we follow the screams of a woman being savagely raped by a monster in the night we can kill it.”

Mizu’s steps slow to a stop.

Your lungs forget how to breathe.

Her hand wraps around your waist with the lightest touch.

The tearoom is so quiet. Your head slowly turns and see that the men are the last ones in there.

“Go back to the room,” her voice is so calm you feel an icy flush dart from your ears, down your neck and rapidly crawl over your spine. It’s that instinctual alarm when a dangerous being is near.

And now, after you felt your own moment of quivering anger, you’re forced to remember what true rage matured by decades of time looks like.

“Mi-“

Her grip tightens to a painful point, and you wince. “Now.”

Her thumb flicks the first several inches of her sword out of the sheath, the metal reflecting the red glow of candlelight.

Her eyes are staring straight ahead, but you know where her attention is now.

When you hesitate too long, she shoves you toward the door. You stumble, your head turning back to glance at the oblivious men. So unaware.

When you stare back at Mizu, her face is impassive. The candlelight in the tea house lights up the orange of her lenses, obscuring your ability to see her eyes anymore.

It’s just flames.

You’ve been pacing your room since you got back. The sky outside has lost the last traces of light.

The last time Mizu’s face was that eerily blank was months ago out in the woods. Ringo was off gathering herbs for dinner when Mizu sat beside you in front of the fire. She hadn’t said a word to either of you for hours.

Her hand had gone to your knee. “You asked me about my mother once,” she had started.

You hesitated, catching on to the weight of this impending conversation. “Yes.”

And then it all came out. She didn’t look at you once, staring into the fire the entire time. You don’t recall her even blinking as she laid everything out bare for you. Her hand clenched tighter and tighter on your knee as she spoke, her arm quivering.

There was only a few seconds between when she finished and Ringo appearing in the tree line again, shouting happily about what he found. You didn’t get a chance to say anything, her hand leaving your knee cold as she quickly retreated to the other side of camp without a word.

Your eyebrows furrow as you silently chew at your nail, your other arm wrapped around your middle.

‘Maybe I should go find Ringo.’

The two of you should go back and look for Mizu. It’s been too long.

You take several hurried steps toward the door when you hear the window slide open behind you, and the chill of the wind rushes in.

You turn, watching Mizu’s blood soaked body climb through the small window. Her sheath makes a muffled thump as she throws it into the room so she can heave herself in.

The blood soaked sheath leaves a short streak of red along the floor from where it slid to a stop.

Mizu’s feet settle on the ground, and she leans back against the open window with a neutral expression. It’s not like the one before, this one is her natural resting expression that isn’t devoid of life. A relief.

Her indifferent expression is normal. The blood soaking into her clothes is normal. The blood splattered across her face is normal.

Her red rimmed eyes are not normal.

She tilts her chin up at you and quirks an eyebrow as your gaze meets.

As if to say, ‘What?’

Mizu…

You silently walk closer, and you see how she leans back against the window as you do. Her bloodied hands clench around the windowsill.

Her eyes harden as you get closer, her jaw clenching. Warning.

But your eyes remain soft, open, unguarded. You reach out and cup the sides of her torso. Unafraid.

Your hands slowly smooth down her sides to her waist and back up. Back down. Again and again. Around her back where you’ve memorized each scar.

She silently, desperately tries to grasp for the last of her stoicism. But her grinding teeth begin to chatter, chest hitching with broken breathes. Her knuckles turn white with how hard she’s gripping the windowsill behind her.

You pry one hand off the window, and it takes several pulls on her wrist before she lets go.

Without breaking eye contact, you stare into her eyes as your hand guides hers to press against your heart. You fold your arms over hers, hugging her arm to your chest as your hand presses down on hers until she feels your heartbeat under her palm.

Constant and unwavering.

A singular, strangled sob tears from her tight throat and she’s crumpling. Tears burn down her cheeks as her form doubles over with the force of her soul finally finding the weak point to break the dam.

It’s you, it’s you, it’s always you and your love for her isn’t it?

Your hand still holds hers tight to your heart as you follow her shaking frame sinking to the floor.

Blood is soaking into your clothes at every point she touches you.

Her head is hanging down between her shoulders, heaving in air more and more and more until she unclenches her jaw and release an ear splitting scream so loud your own teeth clamp shut.

All you can do is hold her until the screaming stops.

When her muscles finally unclench, and her breathing is only a little ragged, you guide her down to lay on her back with her head on your lap.

She blinks up at you, exhaustion lining her wet face. It’s quiet again, so now you’re able to hear how your breathing is in sync.

Her hand, now cracking with dried blood, reaches up and curls around your wrist. Staring intently into your eyes, she guides it under her haori to her own heartbeat.

Blinking away your own tears, you lean over and press your lips to hers.

She closes her eyes as the weight of your hand settles there, and stays.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Sweet Prince- Legolas x Reader

Summary: Smut with no plot with a submissive Legolas

Word count: 962

Your tongue runs across the curves and points of Legolas’ elvish ears, the elf below you squirming and moaning as he holds onto your hips for support.

Both of you are bare as you straddle his stomach. You had been teasing the poor thing for the past hour, pinching kissing, licking and sucking his ears, chest, neck and nipples, everywhere except where he needed you most.

“And here I thought you were a prince and a mighty elvish warrior, meant to be stronger than the race of man. Yet here you lay beneath a mortal woman, moaning and panting like a little whore.” You laugh at your lover, smirking down at his desperate but pouting face.

“No elf has come across a mortal as powerful as you, my love.” He breathlessly moans out as you lightly trace his nipples.

“Perhaps, or perhaps you’re just a sweet little prince who likes being toyed with.” You continue to torment him, your hand now around his throat, pushing his head back further into the pillows below.

Bending down, you push your face directly above him, your lips barely ghosting over his. With one hand around his throat, your other slinks through his beautiful long blonde hair, tugging it to pull his head back even further.

Looking down upon your love, pushing your knees into his biceps to hold him down.

Legolas is extremely strong and could easily push you off of him and be the dominant one tonight, but he chooses not to. He likes letting you have control, likes giving over his power to you and letting you torment him.

“Is that it, little prince? Does his highness like being used? Do you like when I torment you, sweet boy?” You ask him sweetly, your fingers leaving his hair and gently rubbing at the tips of his sensitive ears, as your grip on this throat tightens.

Legolas is so worked up that his cheeks are flushing red and you can tell he’s trying so hard not grind his hips.

“Please…” Was all he could simply say, his desperation obviously breaking him.

“Aaaaww, such a sweet pathetic little thing. What are you begging for, little prince?” You continue your tormenting words and rubbing of his ears.

“I need you! Please! Please look after me! I need to be inside you!” He desperately begged you.

His hips now began to move slightly, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open, as the tormenting pleasure was becoming too much.

“Such a sweet and desperate little thing you are.”

Slightly loosening your grip on his throat, you finally place a sweet kiss to his lips. Legolas went to chase the barely their kiss as you pull away. Smirking at the handsome elf, you push yourself away from his body, shuffling down to line your soaking pussy us with his desperate cock.

Taking his cock in hand, you finally give it a few long and slow strokes. At the first touch of your hand, Legolas screams out a loud and desperate moan.

Sounds of pleasure-filled gasps and groans follow as you bring your pussy to rub against his rock hard cock.

“Is this what you wanted, my sweet boy? Wanted my pussy so badly. You still want to be inside me or is this enough?” You ask him, cruelly feigning ignorance.

“No, no, noooo. Please I need to be inside you! Please, I need you to squeeze me! I need to feel you. Please!” He begged breathlessly, a desperate puff leaving his parted lips are your hips began to slow their torture.

“Well only because you begged so nicely.”

Smirking down at your lover, you place a hand on his chest as your other lines up his cock with your wet entrance. You keep eye contact with him as you gently sink down onto his cock.

If you thought he was loud when you touched him moments ago, you were proven wrong with the volume of the animalistic and desperate moans that leave his lips now. Sinking fully down onto his cock, his head is thrown back and eyes are closed as he mutters blessing in Sindarin.

Once you are properly seated, you waste no time in placing both of your hands upon his chest and begin a fast pace of grinding and bouncing on his cock.

Finally opening his eyes, Legolas looks up at you as if you were an ethereal blessing, as if he was a mere mortal and you were a beautiful goddess.

His hands begin at your thighs, gently moving up to your hips, stomach and finally landing on your breasts. Your hands leave his chest as they rest on top of his own.

Your movements become faster as you take one of Legolas’ hands and move it down to your clit. Legolas lets out a sweet moan at feeling you and at the way his movements make you moan even louder.

“I won’t last much longer, sweet prince. Cum with me.” You pant down at your prince, your skin becoming flushed as you feel a sweet tingle make its way across your body.

The tension is your lower stomach becomes tighter and tighter, the more Legolas plays with you and the faster your hips move.

“I’m almost there.” He pants out, his brows furrowing with pleasure.

“Cum with me, darling!” You shout as you feel that tension in you snap and you’re driven into a state of pure bliss and ecstasy.

Legolas wasn’t far behind you, his hands now holding tight on your hips as he thrusts into you with a loud growl.

As you both begin to come down from your highs, your collapse onto Legolas’ chest. He holds you close as you enjoy the warmth of each others bodies pressed together.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hello! could you write about donna accidentally buying an asphoratic tea from a villager, and so when she brews and drinks it she becomes extremely aroused? she would become extremely flustered, but the reader eventually notices and helps donna with her “problem.”

also can you give her a g!p? thanks!

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

A curious "aftearnoon"

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, aphrodisiac tea

Word count: 4,445

Summary: Maybe that tea is not just a tea...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours :))) I love you all!!!

“How was the meeting?” You asked your girlfriend when she finally, after three long hours, walked through the door.

The woman in black, Donna Beneviento, shrugged as with a sigh, she pushed her veil away from her face so you could kiss her.

“I still can't get used to how good your kisses feel...” She whispered into your lips, with a shy smile, caressing your cheek.

Although it had been several months since you started a relationship with one of Mother Miranda's Lords, you could finally feel really comfortable with her.

Donna was a strange woman, tormented by her past, self-conscious about her face and her body. You never cared about those minutiae. You loved her almost since you met her. Blessed coincidences. Your relationship developed little by little and amid many difficulties, but some time ago it had completely stabilized, still putting aside your insecurities and showing the lady in black how good it felt when you had someone who loved you by your side.

“Well, I guess that's good,” you said amused, giving him another quick kiss.

“Why?” She asked curiously, with that innocence that made you melt.

“You know, Donna. Everything stops being exciting when you get used to it,” you explained, grabbing the lady by her waist and gently kissing her cheek, making her body tremble due to the contact.

“Well, then I hope I never get used to it...” Donna murmured, biting her lip, which made you blush.

“What's that?” You asked curiously, pointing to a paper bag the lady was carrying in her hand.

“Tea,” she answered, briefly, as always. You blinked several times, letting her understand that you needed a developed explanation. Poor Donna, she was still quite clumsy when it came to human relationships.

“Tea...” You repeated amused, pointing your head at the bag. She repeated the gesture, confused.

“Oh, well... Alcina recommended it to me at the last meeting so... I, I’ve stopped by the store and...”  The woman in black stammered. “I have, I have bought it…”

“Fine,” you said amused, getting closer to her ear. “Don't be nervous, Donna... It's not an interrogation,” you whispered, taking her hand and kissing it softly.

“If you had been away from me for so long I would ask you too,” she said, with a more serious tone.

“I know, I know...” You sighed, shaking your head.

“Do you want some?” She asked, displaying the bag and putting an end to that absurd conversation. You shook your head, placing a hand on your chest.

“Ugh, I think if I drink one more drop of tea I'll have a heart attack...” You said jokingly, moving out of the way of the Angie doll, who didn't seem to want to bother you that time. You knew how much she hated meetings with Mother Miranda. You couldn't blame her.

“I... I thought we could...” Donna said, a bit nervous. She probably interpreted those words of yours as a rejection, which you had to prevent.

“What I mean is that I don't want tea but... I'll be happy to accompany you, Donna,” you said, putting both hands on her shoulder to reassure her. The woman in black smiled satisfied and nodded.

“I'm going to make some,” she said, smiling and walking past you.

“I'll wait for you right here,” you said, winking at her.

After a few minutes, Donna sat across from you on the couch, in your little “tea and snuggles” corner. The aroma of that infusion was strange, but pleasant, like walking on a cloud, or at least that's the feeling it gave you.

“Well, so...” You said, leaning your back on the sofa and looking to have some conversation. “What evil deeds is the crow woman planning this time?”

“If she hears you talking about her like that...” Donna said, her voice dark. Fortunately, she had already gotten used to the little sympathy you had for Miranda.

“You would protect me, wouldn't you?” You asked amused, narrowing your eyes.

“With my own life, (Y/N),” Donna stated, taking a sip of her tea, tasting it slowly and giving her approval with a nod of her head. “Wow, it's delicious.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you said, nodding, breathing in the sweet aroma of the drink. “Did Alcina recommend it to you?”

“Yes, well... She told me that I should try it,” Donna said with a soft voice. “The next time I see my sister I guess I will thank her.”

“You were with her an hour ago,” you commented, sighing and leaning back on the couch. She suddenly shook her head.

“No, she has not come to the meeting this time.”

“She hasn’t? Human blood overdose?” You joked, raising your eyebrows. Donna laughed sheepishly, setting the cup down.

“Apparently she was very entertained with her new maid,” the woman in black explained, softening her expression and blushing.

“Oh, I understand…” You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t”

“You don’t? Why do you say so?” You asked curiously, at your girlfriend's unexpected response.

“People seem to be obsessed with sex,” Donna commented, blushing again.

“Well, people usually like sex,” you said, holding back your laughter at her attitude. “You don’t like it? Because your screams last night said the opposite,” you said in a sensual voice.

“Don't say those things, (Y/N), you know I'm embarrassed...” Donna murmured, looking down. You laughed at her reaction and bit your lip.

“Oh, come on, Donna. It's just you and me here,” you whispered, feigning confidentiality.

“Besides, when I make love to you, I don't do it just for fun, I do it because I love you,” the woman in black explained, picking up the cup again and bringing it to her lips.

“I know. But there are people who... You know, they do it just for fun,”  you said, sitting up, interested in that conversation.

“That's very unromantic. It’s rude” Donna said, shaking her head and making a strange face, looking at her cup.

“Maybe you’re right...” You sighed with a smile, which she returned to you, confused. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, yes. It's just… I'm a little hot,” she said, blinking repeatedly and running a hand over her forehead.

“Hot? We are in the middle of winter,” you said curiously, narrowing your eyes. Donna nodded, bringing her legs together, her breathing strangely heavy.

“Maybe, maybe the tea was too hot,” the doll maker murmured, shifting in the armchair uncomfortably and frowning.

You looked at her carefully. Something was definitely happening to her. It wasn't normal for Donna to avoid your gaze so much.

“Hey, you don't look good,” you said worriedly, standing up and running a hand over her forehead. “Donna, honey, you're sweating.”

“I'm fine,” she said abruptly, pushing your hand away. “It's nothing.”

A nervous breakdown? It seemed unlikely.

“Okay...” You murmured suspiciously, sitting back down on the couch, without taking your eyes off your girlfriend, who seemed increasingly nervous.

“What about you? I want, I mean, what...? What have you been doing?” She asked, clearing her throat, as if she were trying to distract herself. You stared at her again, trying to find an explanation for her strange behavior.

“Me? Bah, nothing interesting,” you said with a sigh, downplaying her nervous movements, fearing it was another crisis. “I've been doing a little cleaning. Seriously, the dust in this house is going to kill me. Oh, and I also tightened the screws on the bed. I'm surprised it hasn't fallen apart yet.”

“The, the bed... Screws,” Donna repeated, with serious difficulties speaking clearly. You nodded with raised eyebrows.

Her gaze seemed lost, but in reality, oh no, it actually wasn't. You lowered your head to see where exactly her eye was landing. The answer almost makes you laugh.

“Donna,” you said, amused. She didn't react. “Hey, Donna,” you repeated, snapping your fingers to get her attention. The lady looked up, confused. “Were you looking at my tits?”

“What? No,” she said, shaking her head, continuing to move in the armchair.

“Oh, of course you were,” you said, amused, with an evil smile.

“No, I... Well, what if I was? I like your ti… Your breasts,” she said embarrassed, crossing her arms.

“I was just asking,” you whispered, winking at her knowingly.

She nodded nervously, looking for somewhere in that room to fix her gaze, somewhere that wasn't your body. You, determined not to give her a hard time, stood up slowly, studying her gestures. Her hands clenched the black fabric of her dress tightly.

“Hey, are you really okay? You're very...” You asked lovingly, lifting her chin.

Donna gasped, as if the mere act of your skin coming into contact with hers was like an electric current coursing through her body.

“I'm…. I'm fine...” She murmured, looking away again. You stopped, studying her nervous look.

“You're burning,” you commented, your hand on her forehead again. “Do you want me to prepare a bath for you? I'm sure it's good for you.”

“No, no... I... No, I don't need a hot bath...” Donna said, shaking her head again, squeezing the hands even harder on her dress.

“I didn't say it was a hot bath,” you said amused.

“Of course you did”

“Of course I didn’t. Hey, Donna, honey, tell me what's wrong,” you said with a more concerned tone, crouching down next to her and taking one of her hands so she would stop grabbing her dress. The lady in black bit her lip at the contact and looked at you, unable to utter a single word.

“I was thinking...” She whispered in a low voice, taking her hand away from yours and bringing it to your hair, playing with it in a strange way. “I like to see you like this”

You frowned, even more confused.

“Like that? What are you talking about?” You asked, caressing one of her legs affectionately.

Her hand traveled slowly to your face, passing over your cheeks and then over your mouth, caressing your lips gently with her finger.

“I wonder how good my dick would feel inside your mouth,” she whispered with a hoarse voice, making you stay glued to the floor with your eyes wide open.

“What?” You asked, surprised and amused at the same time. She closed her eye tightly and stood up from the couch, embarrassed by her unexpected words.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean that,” she said, running away from you, who looked at her with curiosity and some excitement at that rudeness.

“Oh, but you said it...” You purred, sitting up and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Non l'ho detto,” she whispered softly, running one hand over her forehead while the other kept you away from her.

“You have, Donna,” you said mischievously. “What is it that…? Oh, wow...” You were speechless when your gaze lowered further, being able to make out the growing bulge under her dress. “Well, well, Donna…”

“I don't know what's wrong with me, (Y/N),” she finally said, playing with the black fabric to hide her erection. “I'm... I, I’m feeling...”

“Has the conversation excited you? I knew you were sensitive, but not that much,” you said, amused and worried at the same time. She shook her head, putting both hands between her legs to hide her embarrassment.

“No, I... Suddenly I got very hot and I looked at you and... No, I can't stop...” Donna stammered nervously, closing her eye to avoid looking at you.

“Come on. It's okay, Donna...” You said with an understanding voice, beginning to suspect that it wasn't a coincidence. Normally Donna controlled her arousal very well but this time she seemed unable to do so.

You scratched the back of your neck, thinking about the reason, the factor that could have caused that. Your eyes traveled to the table, where the empty cup of tea rested.

“Wait a moment,” you said, picking up the cup and looking at the dregs it had left behind, smelling them carefully. “This tea…”

“The tea?” The lady in black asked, approaching and taking the cup from your hands.

You, who didn't take long to realize what was happening, couldn't contain your laughter, which, as expected, made Donna deeply angry.

“Can I know where the fun is? It's not funny, I... It, it doesn't go down...” The lady in black protested, looking at you offended.

“And I don't think it'll go down, darling,” you laughed, picking up the cup again. “See this? It's an aphrodisiac. I should have realized it as soon as I smelled it.”

“An aphrodisiac?” The lady in black asked.

“Yes. An aphrodisiac is…” You began to explain.

“I know what an aphrodisiac is,” Donna interrupted with a stern tone. “I’m not a fool.”

“I didn't say you were,” you said, leaving the cup on the table and putting your hands in surrender. “I think Alcina played with you, huh?”

“But I don't...” Donna stammered, huffing and raising a hand to her forehead. “Maledizione!”

“Well, well, it's not that bad...” You said, massaging her shoulders to make her relax, trying not to make fun of poor Donna anymore.

“Isn't that bad? You know how…? How hard it is?” She asked, turning suddenly and looking down at the bulge in her dress.

“I see,” you said, lowering your tone, with a dangerous gleam in your eyes, lowering your hand down her chest until you reached exactly where you wanted, making Donna step back when she noticed your hand right there. “Relax. I'm sure we can solve this.”

“I don't know how,” Donna murmured, gasping with pleasure at your naughty caresses, which gently ran over her erection. “(Y/N), I... Your hand...”

“You like that?” You asked in her ear, making her cock tremble in your hand, eager to get out. “Come on, my love, let me help you.”

“Help me...” Donna moaned involuntarily as your caresses increased in intensity, making her entire body tremble. “Gods, (Y/N) your caresses are... I feel them... Much more...”

“Oh, that's good...” You purred, taking her hand and leading her back to the armchair, sitting her on it with a gentle push. “Let me help you with that, huh?”

“Please, please...” The woman in black asked you, ashamed of having to do it. “I can't stand it, it almost, it almost hurts...”

“Shhh, calm down... I'll take care of you, right?” You whispered, approaching her lips and kissing them slowly, letting those overwhelming sensations make her tremble.

With the same gentleness, you climbed on top of her, with your legs on either side of her hips, making contact with her erection, which caused an involuntary moan from the brunette, who began to move to increase the friction.

“Don't make me suffer...” She sighed, burying her head in your chest and lowering your hips even further. You gasped from the contact, and from your girlfriend's slightly uninhibited attitude.

Donna used to be extremely romantic and cautious when it came to being intimate. That affection, those kisses and that delicate way of treating you drove you crazy but seeing her that way, terribly excited and anxious, sent a sudden moisture between your legs.

“Tell me how you want me to solve this problem, Donna...” You whispered in her ear, letting her hands squeeze your breasts until they were out of your dress and her hot mouth took care of your neck, never stopping rubbing against you, not even a moment.

“I don't know...” Donna murmured, pulling hard on the buttons of your dress, making them fly through the room. You laughed, unbuttoning hers, feeling her extremely hot skin against yours.

“I can use my hands, my mouth, my body... I'll do whatever you ask me, honey... I want to take care of you...” You whispered tenderly, biting her earlobe. She pulled back for a moment, looking at you with a bright, anxious eye.

“I want... I want...” She murmured between gasps as you took advantage of that moment to remove the sleeves of her dress and carefully lowered it, releasing her eager erection with a gasp of relief from the woman in black.

Your hand grabbed the trembling length and began to massage it carefully, taking your time to see the great effect that tea had on Donna. The woman in black moaned at your gentle up and down movements.

“You're so hard, tesoro,” you murmured, knowing that it would only excite her more. She closed her eye, ashamed. “Mm,” you moaned, staying for a moment on the tip that was already beginning to shine. “Come on. Tell me what you want…”

“I want...” Donna gasped, joining her hand to yours, increasing the pressure on her penis, forcing you to stay there. “Cazzo, (Y/N), I want… Voglio la tua bocca…” She finally said with a broken voice, joining the movement of her hips to your hand.

“You want it? You want my mouth on your...?” You murmured, removing your hand and placing soft kisses on her hot skin, burning with desire.

“Yes, (Y/N), I want it, now...” She said with a stern tone, pulling your hair lightly so you could look at her face.

“How impatient...” You joked, kissing her quickly and descending little by little under her completely lost gaze, blinded by desire. You had never seen her that way and it didn't bother you at all. You should thank Alcina…

You knelt on the wooden floor, rubbing her legs as you kissed them, making the wait unbearable, making her moan in discomfort while she herself began to massage her erection.

“That's cheating, my love...” You said jokingly, resting your head on her lap as her movements grew in intensity.

“Well then stop... Stop playing with me and...” Donna gasped nervously, masturbating without any qualms. The sight before you was exciting, but you weren't going to let her do it anymore.

“No hands, Donna,” you said, grabbing her wrists and placing them on either side of her hips. “I told you I would take care of this.”

“Hurry up, (Y/N)... It hurts...” She protested, with a slightly innocent tone, writhing on the couch.

“Calm down...” You whispered before leaning and kissing the glistening tip slowly, enjoying the taste of her arousal as one of your hands grabbed it to keep her lenght right where you wanted it.

“Gods... Your kisses are...” Donna gasped, increasing the friction with desperate movements of her hips.

You smiled as, little by little, you went down, surrounding her erection with your lips and moving your tongue slowly, not leaving an inch of skin unlicked. Her hand rested on your head, making you hold on, not daring to stop surrounding her, hugging her with your mouth.

Your hand began to move too, picking up a harmonious rhythm along with your mouth, slurping, licking and kissing all the arousal out of her. Her moans increased, without a trace of her usual shyness, grunting as your tongue ran over the tip before going down again slowly, unhurriedly, but increasingly intense.

That exciting situation caused you to moan against her skin, making her entire body start to shake.

“(Y/N) no... Don't stop now... I...” Donna stammered, gripping your hair tighter, making your speed increase before, with a muffled moan, her hips ground against your body and you noticed how heat flooded your mouth. “Oh, Gods, I, I'm so sorry...”

Her apology made you raise your eyebrows and laugh in amusement, wiping away the remains her seed had left in your corners, resting your head on her lap.

“Don't apologize, Donna...” You purred, climbing on top of her again and kissing her tenderly and warmly, heat that began to become unbearable for you. “I love your flavor…”

Those obscene words made her laugh nervously, tasting herself in your mouth, with her hands hugging your half-naked body, with her kisses becoming wild again.

“Are you feeling better, honey?” You asked tenderly, studying her still confused expression, even with that sparkle in her eye. She looked around for something to look at, as if she were terribly embarrassed by what had just happened.

“No,” she said, sighing, grabbing your face in her hands and kissing you in a messy manner. You laughed, lowering your hand to corroborate her words. Her erection had gone down for a moment, but didn't take long for it to rise again, making you look at her, biting your lips.

“Wow... I had never seen this before,” you commented amused, caressing her hard penis again, maybe less hard, but hard nonetheless.

“That damn tea...” Donna muttered, caressing your back erratically. “I want more, (Y/N)”

“More tea?” You teased, kissing her neck and unhooking her bra skillfully and discreetly, running your hand across her bare chest, making her moan again.

“No. I want more of you,” she said with a serious tone, pushing you so she could grab you by the legs and lift you up with a strength you had rarely seen.

You held onto her waist with your legs as she carried you to the other couch, letting you fall onto it as she got rid of the rest of her clothes.

“Don't make me wait, Donna...” You said putting on a good girl's face as you pulled down your underwear, throwing it to the other side of the room. When your hand reached the fabric of your dress, hers held you back from taking it off. Her eye continued to shine with hunger and desire as she positioned herself between your legs, pressing your wetness with her erection.

“Don't take it off...” She whispered in your ear. “I like to see you like this… Helpless…”

“Who are you? What have you done with Donna?” You asked jokingly, pleased by Lady Beneviento's lack of self-control.

“Shut up...” She said, holding your chin firmly in her hands. “I want… I need to fill you, (Y/N)... I need it so bad…”

“I know, honey...” You said in an understanding tone, knowing that it was the tea that was talking and not Donna, or at least the part of her that you knew. That slightly more dominant side of your girlfriend was quite funny.

“I can't take it anymore...” She growled as, with a small movement, she entered you without warning, making you moan in surprise, but pleased, very pleased.

“Oh, Donna...” You moaned, closing your eyes to help your body get used to her size.

She moaned too, grabbing your legs and starting to move slowly, enjoying like never before the feeling of your body hugging her erection, wanting to feel the slightest movement, the hug with which your walls worshiped her body.

“So... Tight...” The lady whispered, in a low tone, probably thinking you hadn't heard her. She was so clouded and distracted by her desire that she didn't realize that you were enjoying each one of those words.

“Just for you, Donna...” You said in a seductive tone, matching her slow movements with your hips, feeling how your moisture ran through her body, how yours fought to keep her dick from leaving it.

“Just for me...” She repeated, stopping for a moment, probably to not get carried away by desire, by that cursed tea. “I can barely… I can barely move… It hugs me so well…”

“Move, Donna... I need it,” you moaned when her movements were barely perceptible. Your body quickly adjusted to the intruder and your arousal helped it to slide easily as her thrusts resumed.

The obscene sound of your humidity and almost desperate moans began to be the soundtrack of that room. Donna seemed impatient, overcome by the pleasure she was feeling, that she was making you feel.

You scratched her back, arching your body involuntarily and stealing a kiss whenever you could, to which she smiled contentedly. At no point would you let that tea blur the love you felt for her, the love she felt for you.

The doll maker caressed your legs, slowly raising them and grabbing them over her shoulder, moving her hips gracefully, knowing that your bodies couldn't be separated, didn't want to be separated.

“Donna... I'm so close...” You moaned, biting your knuckles to contain your excitement. She smiled and closed her eyes, intensifying her thrusts. The tremors of her erection inside you told you that she wasn't far from her second release either.

“Turn around,” she said, pulling out of you before a wave of heat washed over you. “Turn around, please…”

You looked at her hungrily, moaning at the lack of her body in yours, but you obeyed. She raised your hips slightly, exposing you in a terribly arousing way and entering you again with a guttural moan.

“Just like that, just like that, tesoro... You’re taking me so well...” She moaned, bending down to insert her dick deeper, as far as it could. You couldn't stand it and it didn't take long for you to tense your body, making your muscles squeeze Donna even more, who gasped from the shock, letting herself be placed on your back while she filled you with her heat.

You both stayed in that position for a few moments. Donna rested her head on your back, still not leaving you, enjoying the feeling of her wetness on your body, not letting it to come out.

Her breathing was now more normal and the pressure inside you decreased enough to realize that the effect of that tea had ended, fortunately, or rather, unfortunately...

“Donna...” You sighed, realizing that her body was trembling against yours. Carefully, you turned around. Lady Beneviento was unable to look you in the eyes, embarrassed by her actions. “Hey, Donna…”

“I'm so sorry...” She whispered into your chest, pulling out of you and hugging you tightly. “I'm sorry, cara mia...”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, gently stroking her black hair, playing with it with your fingers. “It seems that you are feeling better now…”

“Yes, I... No, I haven't treated you well,” she said with a tone of regret, letting you hug her tenderly, giving her the warmth that was now missing from her body.

“Are you kidding me? I had a great time,” you said with a smile. She looked up for a moment, but looked down again, embarrassed.

“I, I felt... I was so... I couldn't think clearly,” she said, apologizing again, her body shivering from the sudden cold.

“It wasn't your fault, I know you're not like that, Donna,” You said with a reassuring tone. “Besides, I liked it. It has been... Different.”

“Alcina...” She hissed with a dark voice, snuggling closer to your body, letting your hug comfort her.

“It doesn't matter, Donna, really...” you whispered, patting her back. “Hey…”

“What?” She asked curious.

“Can I have some tea?”

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon comes to comfort you.

Warnings: drama, angst because of reasons; fluffy though because we love writing fluffy Aegon. Long post.

***

What a strange bond you and the lord Aegon share. As the daughter of Ser Gwayne of House Hightower, you were raised as part of the Targaryen family since you could remember—but comparison, implicitly as it was, was always there.

You always aimed to please so what else could you do if not doing as told? You were raised to be like your royal aunt but your sweet nature prevented to emulate her flaws. Indeed your wit was as sharp as knife and your tongue could ricochet when provoked, but only your looks could tell what were you doing amidst an incestuous family.

Nevertheless, against all odds you did get well with them. How could it not be? You were raised with your cousins, but it was Aegon who climbed your walls and knocked them out.

Though he’s expected to marry his sister, it’s you whom he follows everywhere. There are whispers at court, but, as you told your aunt once, where there are tongues, words will be spoken.

Yet… now you are a young woman, in an age close to marry. You have no dragons to ride and all you can brag is about winning Aemond over poetry competition.

At times you are next to Helaena, but you feel outshone by your sweet cousin.

What is this, what is this that torments me so?

You have demons to fight underneath your mask of duty and you do not like when they crave their claws on your flesh. So today you withdraw, certain that no one is going to notice your absence.

When you do so, melancholy has you on its trap. You are swallowed by it, there staying whilst your footsteps automatically sway out of their view. You dissociate, rewinding the times you disappointed every one you know.

Perhaps what is worse is the day Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon’s betrothal is announced. You found yourself wishing to be in her shoes, the perfect Princess.

Disgusted by mundane sentiments you are suffocated when confronted by your imperfections. You need some air. Perhaps the gardens will offer some solution.

Barefoot, your Hightower curls are blown off your head the more you run into the labyrinth of green towers of leaves and pomades. Tears roll out, uninvited, as if the grip around them is now loose. Because at the center of this rarely visited labyrinth lies a cold stoned bench where you sit and burst into silent, painful tears.

*

Even a merry prince as himself needs some moment to himself. Regardless of how fearful he is of loneliness—which is usually mistaken as a moment of fragility—, Aegon feels in the air that not all is well as it should.

It takes no more than a few minutes to notice the lady Y/N Hightower’s escape of the court. He sighs. Thus the recollections begin as the silver haired Targaryen royal retraces your steps.

I remember well, my lady, when we bonded. It was odd that someone laughed at my sarcastic remarks; that a relative would appreciate my fierceness, or even compliment my efforts in reading messy words.

Whenever I was faulted for not being hard working like Aemond, or when envy consumed my poor soul for being overshadowed by Rhaenyra, you stood for me. You held my hand, dismissed my fragilities and reassured me I was as good as any of them. You encouraged me flying with Sunfyre when I was anguished before the Strong boys. You never failed to surprise me, a deed few—if any at all—accomplished.

But I was so selfish…. When you fell, where was I? When you wept, where was I? When your strength was shaken, I failed you. I blinded myself because I supposed you and Aemond were too bright to burn. I whored because the idea of you led me to believe I was unworthy—as my mother often remarked that she found our friendship rather unusual, uncommon, unmatched: you, the perfection; me, the broken man.

Indeed she has been correct in her judgement. But reason often tormented me because I am too weak to surpass myself. Where there are obstacles, I see an invitation to encourage my sins; where there are defiances, I convince myself I lack capacity to overcome them.

I am not brave. No, my precious lady. This errant prince is unworthy of your affection. Nonetheless… I will rescue you. You will see that I am capable of loving, even if this means to admit I cannot be loved.

The sight of you in complete distress makes him rush his steps. Part of him is relieved to see you haven’t done anything imprudent, but another prays anxiously for whatever deity that he is not the cause of your atonement.

“Goodness!”, you almost cry out when you see Aegon. You stand quickly, trying to recompose yourself. “A-Aegon! I mean, my lord cousin.”

You try desperately to omit your distress, to conceal your anxiety, but Aegon sees through you. The prince holds your wrists and pulls you against him.

“Don’t. Don’t do this, Y/N.”

Still holding a hand over your right wrist, he releases his free hand to gently brush away your eyes, after lifting your chin so he can read the pain in them.

“We’ve already surpassed this phase, haven’t we? It’s long gone since that day where… well, where we had mutual accusations of distrust”, says he, pleased to make you chuckle lightly.

“True. We are not children anymore”.

The distance is short. Shorter than what usually is. You can smell his scent, which only infuriates your racing heart.

“Then why are you running away?”

You sigh. Something about his long gaze at you, at the kindness behind his lilac irises, at the soft smile on his lips… is enough to disperse your insecurities.

“I am not running away.”

It’s a weak protest, a lie that Aegon knows what it really means. He once used it to shy away everyone who dares to approach him. For some reason, this old tactic never worked with you. It is only natural that it has no success with him as well.

“You are not well. What troubles you, my sweet? Always the dutiful daughter, always the merry one of us all, the prideful daughter of Old Town.” He strokes your cheek once more. “The stories we created, the past I was part of… cannot be just that.”

“We forged a very good bond, didn’t we?”

“Indeed.” Then a flash of hurt crosses his gaze for a moment. “Is it what it is, though? A good bond is what we have?”

And just like that you set yourself free of his touch. Where there was warmth, now there is cold.

“I cannot… Do not make me say what I may regret. Leave me to my pain, to be tormented by my delusions.”

“I may be many of the things I am accused of. However, to be careless is not one of them.” Aegon takes you by your arm, forcing you to turn at him. “Tell me I am only a memory, that we are nothing.”

“I was always yours, cousin. But you were never mine”, you burst out what’s been killing you. “I am not Helaena. Nor a Targaryen can I be considered! What am I? Who am I? Somewhere along the lines I became what is expected! But I lost myself in the process.”

“I will not sacrifice us for duty!” He holds you against him, your frame tied in between his arms. You find the same anguish in his eyes, the old desperation that equals yours, an entire ocean of profound sentiments that invite to an inevitable drowning.

Cupping your cheeks with his hands, he stares back at yours.

“It pains me that I am not able to take away your suffering. Miserable is the man who cannot uphold a sword to battle his damsel’s torments. For years I accepted that I failed before the world. But when it comes to you, Y/N, I am not afraid of the dark. I am not that fucking cunt. You never left me on my own. Unworthy as I am, hardly magnanimous as others might suggest to make me their jest, you remain.”

“I am a sinner, Aegon. Filth with…”

He covers your mouth, impeding words to come out of your disgraced soul any longer.

“For years we repressed it. Nay, Y/N. Do not make us miserable anymore. I shall make you mine at the cost of all.” And yet when battles seemingly obstinate at the cost of your breakdown, he holds you close. “Come here. Let us leave this world, uh? I know exactly what you deserve.”

You stay there for a moment, taking his words as what you need to hear. What you need to heal. Aegon is your balsam, and this is touching in many ways.

The rogue prince, rejected by all of those who, by blood, are moved by this familiar pretense of loving him, is someone else’s solace. You, often the strong one, so sensible and reasonable, rely on his feeble, meek prince whose divinity is nothing but a mask.

Thus you stay. And he loves you more than he can admit.

*

Sunfyre seems to smile at you when Aegon gleefully takes you to him.

“Come now. He won’t bite you!”, your rogue prince beams at you. He extends his hand at you. “Do you honestly think this is a privilege I give everyone I know?”

His golden scaled dragon seems to huff as if to say: “Indeed, my lady. Do you honestly think I would allow anyone to ride me besides Aegon?”

You giggle softly. Aegon sees you blushing, the idea of enjoying a privilege few would ever do makes you suddenly shy. Your face is adorably pink, a great sight to behold when adding to it your loose curly red hair.

“Well?”

“I do not mean to keep you waiting”, you take his hand, enjoying the warmth of your fingers locked. “Thank you for having me, Sunfyre.”

The winged creature looks at you pompously, a very adorable sight that makes you smile.

“How can one not smile before the most beautiful dragon there has ever been?”, says Aegon, resting his face against Sunfyre’s forehead. “Heavens know this is just… unmatched.”

“You have a very strong bond with this one”, you observe, smiling.

“He understands me like no other”, Aegon smiles as Sunfyre confirms him with its own way of showing tenderness. “We belong to each other.”

“Indeed. I am pleased he takes you as who you are. It is what it should have always been.”

“Come now. Let us fly!”

You take the hand offered even though you are not dressed for the occasion. As Sunfyre opens its wings and begins to fly, his hands around your waist ensure you that you are safe.

“You may be Targaryen in your own way, Y/Nickname”, Aegon whispers in your ear. “But I prefer you being Hightower. It has a better ring to it, hasn’t it? Lady Y/N Hightower.”

You giggle like a little girl. Oh, once upon a time you dreamed of this moment. It is unique, indescribable. He is so close to you, carefree and merry.

His arms around your waist as he leads the way when pulling the reins of Sunfyre, at the same time letting it be leaded by this beautiful golden winged creature.

Wind blows your hair, messing it all the way as you fly higher and maybe a choked sound comes out of your throat. Adrenaline runs in your veins and for a second you fear you are about to fall.

“Trust in me, my lady! You are safe with me!”, Aegon chuckles quietly.

You can only nod. Despite the fear, you trust your guts, and delegate all the power to him. Aegon’s face is close to yours so he can read your expressions, the subtle change in your countenance quite clear. And yet when you relax, when your shoulders are light again, he knows the value of your trust.

Taking the opportunity to surprise you, he is bold enough to press his lips against your cheek.

“Oh, Aegon!”, you blush, batting your eyelashes timidly.

“Are you enjoying this adventure?”, Aegon looks so content like he hasn’t been in years.

When your gazes meet, you forget that he is promised to another. You are led to believe he is delegating his heart to your possession. Against reason, you nurture hope.

“More than I deserve. Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Anything for my lady”, and even up in the skies he takes your hand and presses a kiss on it.

This time Sunfyre flies slowly, stable as it is up in the air. It is when Aegon takes his time to enjoy it with you.

“Aegon…”, you hesitate.

“Yes?”

He waits. When he does so, eyes are locked in a long gaze. He notices the color that paints your irises, the red that paints your curls, your long nose and heart-shaped face. Sweet features that mirror the kindness within. Your lips tremble and the prince is eager to hear those words.

Those three words that he too is eager to pronounce, tasting them for the first time in a lifetime of rage and frustration.

“I am scared to speak my mind.”

Aegon puts a hand over your chin, his callous hand moving higher to cup your cheek. To fight away the remaining shadows of your heart, right at the twilight, he knocks his pride down when choosing to be the one to say what must be said.

“Y/N Hightower, throughout these years my cold heart has been endeared to a new sentiment of a kind I never experimented before, often judged to never feel it because I was deemed unworthy of it. The root to my heart has been uneasy, I know, and yet you took it with the bravery of your gentleness.”

As the words come out so naturally, you blush deeper. You’d look away if he doesn’t make you stay and see the truth in his gaze.

“You, the very center of my heart, have grown more than a companion, a cousin, someone with whom I share blood. Nights grow cold without you, I sinned hopelessly because I thought…” Aegon sighs, impatient with himself. “All of this is to say that I love you.”

To his surprise, you cup his face with your hands and lock your lips with his. Right as the sun starts to go down, as the colors of twilight begin to paint the skies, every doubt is solved, every shadow dissipates.

It is a peaceful kiss, perfectly paired even if it starts sloppy. Sunfyre hums happily as if to put a soundtrack to this moment where Aegon Targaryen is genuinely happy for the first time in years.

“I love you, Aegon”, you rest your forehead against his. “Whatever it comes, never forget how endeared you are.”

He cannot argue when you say in such a sweet manner. You convince him that with patience and time, love flourishes.

And you stay like this for a while.

***

Aegon’s eyes are glued in you. Today you are dancing with Princess Helaena by her side at a feast that honours the king’s name day.

“Lady Y/N must be a witch”, muses Aemond out of the blue.

“What for?”, Aegon casts a frown at his younger brother. “Do not dessacralize her name like this, Aemond.”

“Oh. So you are far more smitten than I have assumed”, Aemond raises his eyebrows. “And here I was presuming you’d make her one of your mistresses…considering whom you are betrothed to.”

“Assume what you want. Lady Y/N is not a mistress, no.”

His brother cannot believe his ears. Is this an scandal in the making?

“You cannot be serious. Aegon…”

“What? All I can do is displease others as it seems. They are not content when I do as told. It is time to take my life with my own hands.”

“This will not end well.”

“We shall try and see.”

Aegon stands impatiently and moves to where you are. He knows all eyes are set on him: courtiers hold their breath when you come at his meeting. But what do they know when love is clear in the eyes of the Cupid’s victims?

Helaena, who knew from day one where this would go, smiles to you and excuses herself to Aemond’s side—which only served to leave Alicent astonished, but not entirely displeased since she likes you.

What indeed comes out as a shock is that Aegon has eyes to no other but you.

“We are making it obvious”, you murmur.

“Let it be so. I have no shame in showing my affection for you.”

“Aegon, but you are promised to another”, he sees the pain it comes when acknowledging this fact.

Hands are held and bodies dance when he says calmly:

“Betrothals are often brokered. It happens under uncertainties until marriages are certain.”

You cast him a long wide gaze.

“You cannot be serious..”

Aegon smiles at you in a way few have seen it. The dance comes to an end and he bows before you, lingering a kiss on your wrist without parting gazes.

“I am most serious in my intentions, lady Y/N.”

***

You are occupied with embroidery, lost in your thoughts by the time the queen comes to meet you.

“Y-Your Grace, my aunt”, you dip to a gracious curtsy, blushing as you do so, aware of the reason why she suddenly came to see you.

“No need formalities, child”, she gives you a small smile. “I came to talk to you. I believe you know why.”

As you mutter some answer, Queen Alicent is reminded of herself. You could have been her daughter had she been married off to a nobleman of a house like Tyrell. Not only that but some traits you possess makes her lament how she wasted her youth being a puppet to serve her father’s ambition.

Painful remembrances. And yet… you are tracing a better path than she ever did.

“I am not angry at you, dear child. I should have assumed any of this would result. To be honest, your grandsire was hoping to marry you to Aemond, seeing how similar you are.” Alicent smiles, clearly judging otherwise. “Well, Helaena was closer to Aemond than you in any case.”

“I have nothing to say against lord Aemond, my queen, but it is true that I am closer to lord Aegon.”

“I neglected to consider your sentiments in these matters much as mine were discarded by the time… Oh, never mind. It does little good to dwell in the past”, she now takes your hand. “Aegon surprised me for the first time. He is strongly decided to make you his wife.”

“Oh”, you cannot disguise your surprise. You have to put a hand on your heart as if to prevent you to pass out. “He actually means it!”

Queen Alicent chuckles at your reaction.

“I was shocked too myself, but the king and I are happy to see a change in his comportment. For which on behalf of the crown I thank you and officially welcome you to this disfunctional family, dearest Y/N.”

You laugh quietly. For the first time in a long time your demons are defeated and you taste a safe victory. This is not about comparisons anymore, nor to be gushed by insecurities. Aegon has helped you heal in many, many ways.

***

A few moons later…

“I thought I was not born for happiness”, you confide him right after you landed with Sunfyre.

Since the day Aegon and you were married, the king granted the newly weds a household so you could enjoy your privacy. Ever since this day, Springhall has been your home.

“Why would you say that, Y/Nickname?”, he holds your arm against him as you two walk side by side back inside. “Stealing from me the typical phrasing effect?”

You chuckle quietly.

“No, I mean every word I said. When circumstances forced me to acknowledge my feelings for you, Aegon, I never thought you’d correspond. I felt as if I loved a star too high to grasp.”

It is your way with words that move his heart. It is how these echo the sincerity with your devotion that bends a prideful man like him. Aegon stops the pace and turns you around.

“It pains me that you have gone through difficult months, withdrawn to a heavy pressure of expectations your mother and father laid on you. Even more that I disappointed you with my wayward manners”, he takes your fingers and kisses each for a long time.

Summer breeze blows his hair, and you seem to notice this day he is not dressing dark shade of green, but a light one instead, which matches yours.

“We tend to get lost in our way when we are not properly guided, I’m afraid. But I cannot excuse my past, when I was given the chance to write a better future. Your unending loyalty to me, Y/N… Gods. I could list to all of your virtues that charmed me… In fact, let me do it.”

He keeps his words. Your self esteem has never been higher. A man like him to praise yourself in this manner… Oh, how many skeptical persons would have mocked this possibility?

To be loved like a fair damsel in these stories you read is a reality you’ve thought impossible. You knew your dreams were prompted to be sacrificed by the duties to serve your family, but alas! The impossible is now possible!

“What a joy you give me to be your wife”, you say more tearful than you know.

“You are my heart’s queen, my heart’s gleam, light of my life, my sun and stars. I am devoted to you until the last breath of this body.”

You take his hands and plants a kiss on each, holding his fingers firmly as you look at him with a spark in your gaze.

“My best beloved, I could not find happiness elsewhere but with you. My soul rejoices when yours is close to mine, when day and night I can love you right. Oh, you light my life and lead the way to Seven Paradises!”

“My poetess!”

And saying so, he kisses you under sunlight.

***

• Epilogue.

Prince Aegon’s marriage has not only proven to be a great surprise to many and a true delight to all, but in many ways it was scandalous too.

Specially because he formally abdicated of his rights to the crown to spend his lifetime with you. By giving these to his younger brother, Aemond, well… Ser Otto Hightower might have to adjust his plans. And your sweet demeanor makes it difficult to be blamed for such a decision. Besides, you found in your father a good supporter at court so all is well that ends well.

Before the great series of events that are coming, you give Aegon a number of children to occupy yourselves to. These are:

1. Aegon, named after his father.

2. Rhaena, his twin.

3. Alysanne.

4. Daena.

5. Daeron.

6. Jaehaerys.

7. Maekar.

8. Daenys.

And two miscarriages. What is intriguing is that by the time King Viserys’ death, you and Aegon are found living your lives quietly in Essos.

So when war comes, Aemond starts to question himself.

Where is Aegon? Can he be counted on for this war? Or should he better be left in his domestic affairs?

But these speculations run out of this scope. Besides, it’s not as if Aegon and Y/N Targaryen would pose any danger to Aemond and Helaena’s inheritance… Right?

Whatever it is, some things are better left unsaid. And you and Aegon content yourselves with this very peaceful scenario…

[notintattooine]

if only for a night

pairing: padmé amidala x anakin skywalker x fem!reader 

warnings: 18+, polyamorous relationship, sexual content (ffm). not proofread bc i overthink <3

a/n: this was shorter and sluttier than intended...i actually took months to finish this....anyway!!! enjoy!!!!<3

inspo credits to @bimbo-baggins17 <3 you made me realize i could absolutely post this :)

the gilded elegance of the senate meeting room felt like a dramatic contrast to the sterile meeting areas the council seemed to favor. you’d been trying to focus on anything but the ethereal beauty of the woman in front of you, senator padmé amidala. she was really impressive…… with a wonderful taste in windows, you thought to yourself. you’d (really) tried your best to listen to the discussion occurring but found yourself drifting into a daydream. finally, master windu suggested beginning preparing a celebration that was to be thrown later. you’d practically shot out of your seat- anything to regain the sense of control you 're supposed to have instilled into your being. (maybe that’s why you and anakin got along so well) 

of course the jedi goodbyes had begun, pleasantries engaged back and forth until obi wan finally put you out of your misery. accomplishing this by dragging you and anakin out, or (rather) trying to persuade the two of you to join in. padmé was talking about the celebration as she finally made her way over to the three of you, catching you first.

“and y/n, you’ll be there?” her voice had a slight hopefulness to it as her soft amber eyes met yours. “you’ll join anakin and me, won’t you?” the last part was low enough for only your ears to catch as she grazed her forearm against yours. her perfectly glossed lips pressed up into a smile as she placed her hand on the small of your back to lead you toward anakin. it was as if she’d electrocuted you, excitement trickled through every nerve in your body as you approached. 

anakin’s gaze shifted to something less friendly and more…playful as you two approached. his grin widened and his body language softened, welcoming you and padmé into his personal space. “we were hoping you’d join us?” 

“oh- of course” you managed to get out, flustered by the attention from the hottest couple in the galaxy. “i would love to.” 

-

“you’ll join anakin and me, won’t you?” padmé’s question had gripped your mind since it left her  lips. would you join them? it was risky, taboo, maybe even wrong. of course you would.

your mind seemed to be elsewhere while you laid out a dress from your closet, running your fingers along the silky fabric. deciding to put it on, slipping it onto your figure, you turned to the mirror. a smile crept upon your face as you admired the dress and its delicately embroidered lace details. it was rather flattering in the way it ruched and flowed in all the right places- it had been a birthday gift from padmé years ago. the color matched the sea foam green waters of naboo and brought fond memories of your youth along with it. fleeting moments of confessions in castle corridors and years of forbidden longing. 

-

you’d managed to make it to the celebration, eyes scanning the crowd of jedi for a set of more familiar faces. as you did, a metallic hand placed itself on your lower back. anakin smiled down at you, eyes traveling over your body.

“care to grab a drink?” his signature smile graced his face. “padmé will be here soon.”

you followed him to the bar, his hand sitting comfortably on your waist. you took a seat next to him before he ordered.

“two of my usuals.” he smiled, holding up two fingers. “thank you.”

you shrugged as the drinks arrived, hoping his taste in alcohol was as decent as his taste in women. you held the glass up to your lips before taking a sip.

you grimaced “oh stars-  anakin, what was that…. jet juice?”  his lips upturned in amusement. “not a fan?” he mused, wiping at the droplet that fell from your lip. 

“anakin, stop tormenting the poor girl,” padmé’s amused voice called as she approached, her figure resting gently against the bar counter. “you’ll scare her away.” 

-

“you sure?” padmé asked again as anakin’s teeth grazed your collarbone, intrusive thoughts winning as he sunk his teeth into the flesh. eliciting a yelp from you, swallowed by padmé’s kiss.

“never been so sure about anything.” you pulled back mumbling against her lips. switching to suck slightly on her bottom lip as you reconnected. 

anakin’s deft fingers slipped under your dress straps, urging it off. he gawked for a second, marveling at the sight of your nipples hardening against the cool air mixed with the aching in your core. mischief crossed his face as he attached himself to one of the nubs, licking a stripe then biting and repeating. your hands were searching for his hair as padmé slipped her tongue into your mouth. anakin tugged at the perked flesh, eliciting a moan that was straight of a holopad midnight porno from your lips. desperate for relief, your hips bucked, getting the message, anakin shoved his knee between your legs to part them. staring at you like he was going to consume you, he used his metal arm to bunch your dress up to your stomach, his fingers lightly grazing over the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“oh padmé, come look at this.” anakin grinned, looking at his wife. “she’s fucking soaked.” 

padmé smiled widely, “we’ll take care of you, y/n. won’t we ani?” anakin nodded in agreement. 

before you knew it padmé had her hips positioned over your face, your mouth watering at the sight. anakin aligned himself with your dripping sex, reaching to grip your hips as he began to sink his length in. holy shit. you could die right here right now. whining almost pathetically as he sunk in, your mind went blank only brought back to reality when you remembered the brunette above you. padmé let out a shaky moan as your breath fanned on her pussy. without warning you began, licking a fat stripe from her clit to her entrance and back. 

“maker mae, you taste fucking divine.” you mumbled into her, flattening and curling your tongue as she began rocking her hips. 

anakin watched, his dick growing impossibly harder at the sight of you devouring his wife. he removed a hand from your hips to rub your clit, to prepare he brought his fingers to padmé’s lips to wet them. you involuntarily clenched when you heard her mouth release his fingers with a pop. the mental image of what you heard was enough to make your eyes roll. anakin had set a brutal pace after entering you, the squelching of how wet you were would be embarrassing if you didn’t feel so wanted.

“oh she liked that.” anakin chuckled, shooting padmé a cocky grin. “gripping me like a fucking vice.” 

padmé’s grip on your hair combined with anakin’s grip on your hips had you reeling, no wet dream or dirty fantasy could amount to the real thing. you’d gotten off to the fantasy more times than you could count. you were here, padmé’s wetness dripping down your chin and anakin’s dick so far in you, your brain hurt. 

you worked at padmé’s pussy, sucking on her puffed clit before tongue fucking her and repeating. she was on the brink of tears with how fucking close she was, all she wanted was to see you fall apart on anakin. 

“y/n.” she warned, “y/n im close,” her hips were slowing but she was trying. you moved your hands to her thighs, bringing her impossibly closer to your mouth. moans from how close anakin had you were spilling into her. 

“me too.” you mumbled, nose bumping her clit over and over. with a cry she came, releasing on your tongue. you let her ride it out, peppering kisses to her thighs. 

anakin was fully slamming in and out of you, the heaviness of his balls, slapping against your pussy. you had your nails dug into padmé’s thighs, still lapping at her when your orgasm hit you. white hot pleasure sent you collapsing into the bed, completely limp as anakin fucked you through it. 

as you recovered, padmé held your face in her hands, peppering kisses against your face. anakin sighed, breaking you out of your haze. he was still painfully hard, his tip angry and leaking.

“oh ani.” you sighed, rolling over onto your stomach, “should we help him?” you turned to padmé. she grinned, gripping his length in her hand, looking towards you.

“spit on it.” she said, “please y/n.” anakin answered , looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows and eyes watering. who were you to deny him?

with a grin, you spit into padme’s hand, before lowering yourself to play with his balls. with a smile graced upon your swollen lips you grinned up at him. he looked ethereal, his curly brunette hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his lip pulled between his teeth. padme worked his cock.

"switch" he panted, "want to fuck your face." he grabbed your chin.

with your pupils blown and drool pooling in your mouth, you obliged. you relaxed your throat the best you could, gagging as you tried to take all of him. he make a makeshift ponytail with your hair, his balls slapping your face as he fucked your throat. his hips started to stutter as padmé kissed him, the lewd noises of their makeout make your thighs clench together. you pulled out all the stops, gagging, drooling and moaning all around him. you knew you had him when he pushed you to the base of his cock, the coarse hairs tickling your face. he came with a cry, spilling down your throat.

you eased off him, resting back on your heels to take a second to catch your breath. padmé pulled you up to her, "you gonna share?" holy fuck, of course you would. you tapped her cheek signaling for her to open up before making a show of spitting his cum into her mouth.

anakin growled. his eyes wide and his mouth agape. he really was the chosen one. as if it couldn’t get any better, padmè lowered her face back to yours spitting it into your mouth. “swallow.” she said, hand gripping your chin.

anakin pulled you into them until you were a pile of limbs, soft kisses being peppered along your skin. “you were great baby.” he said, nuzzling his face into your neck. “so good for us.” padmé agreed, kissing the tip of your nose.

it was nice to be theirs, if only for a night.

[delirious-donna]

Don’t Touch [Gojo Satoru]

an: since I reworked Nanami’s version of this (link here), it seemed only fair to give Gojo’s drabble the same treatment.

pairings: Gojo Satoru x female reader

warnings: sensory deprivation kinda (touch), reader is a tease, Satoru gets a lil subby (barely), NSFW throughout

Masterlist

Gojo Satoru was a beautiful man, a good man but a silly one too. If you levelled a challenge at him, especially one he felt certain he would win, then nothing would prevent him from accepting your terms. Would the overconfident sorcerer ever learn?

The pout decorating his lips was simply irresistible—dewy and perfectly kiss-swollen. Celestial blue eyes blink slowly, long white lashes brushing against his blush-tinted cheeks as you dip your head to suck that delicious bottom lip into your mouth once more.

You were naked from the waist down, tormenting the man below you with each languid roll of your hips. The friction from his straining zipper was more than enough to send tiny jolts of pleasure humming throughout your body, fissures of bliss erupting along your nerve endings, but it wasn’t what he wanted, and you knew it.

Satoru’s muscles tense and bulge all at once, the tendons in his neck strain from his desire to free his hands, and he could—in a heartbeat—but his desire to please overrides it.

It’s jarring experience. An alien sensation to the powerful man that is accustomed to being entirely in control of literally everything in his life. However, the truth aches in his pounding chest, his heart beating to a new song orchestrated by the woman he loves above all others. Satoru has been turned into putty by your sheer force of will, and worst of all, he likes it…

“I can feel you wriggling ‘toru. You know the deal,” you purred whilst your fingers card into his lustrous snow-white hair, twisting until you can coil around the roots and tug. Smiling when the breath in his throat catches.

His hands were practically numb from where they lay beneath his backside and you weren’t lying, they did twitch for release. Despite his insistence that you could lock him up if you really wanted, this was an endurance test for him, and not for a pair of cheap handcuffs or the tensile strength of a tie never worn.

“You’re the one not playing fair, princess, just sink onto me already.”

You chuckled at the desperation lacing his plea, petulance invading his tone only to be schooled into some semblance of obedience at the last second. Favouring to ignore his plight, you pressed wet kisses to his bare chest, sucking love bites into his collarbone and neck only to watch them bloom into purple brilliance. Of course, you paid extra attention to his rosy nipples, flicking the perky peaks with the tip of your tongue before offering a firm tug with your teeth.

His pectorals twitched and his head flopped back against the couch, the most desperately pitiful whimpers tumbled from his mouth with little restraint. Satoru’s hips arched up to remind you of what you were currently perched upon. His poor aching cock pulsed against his thigh, desperate for attention, desperate for any kind of touch. Anything was better than being trapped behind his pants, and if he couldn’t touch you then he definitely couldn’t touch himself…

Why had he agreed to this? Why had he grinned like a deviant little devil thinking he could best you when touching you was the highlight of his day, his life? Satoru panted through the myriad of his jumbled thoughts, his mind turbulent and disarrayed. He was being denied the pleasure of caressing your curves, of detailing the little marks that made you unique. He’d willingly accepted the worst form of torture.

“Why don’t you say please, ‘toru? If you ask me nicely, I might take pity and fuck myself on your beautiful cock, hm?”

As if to emphasise the point, your weight rises from his lap only to drop back down with force. A strangled grunt pulled from the depths of his chest in response, cheeks no longer pink but ruddy and sweating.

“Princess, babycakes… love of my life, please—I need you—need you so damn bad!”

You were good on your word. Humming in appreciation of his anguished but heartfelt plea, your hands work deftly to unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. The damp stain coating the front of his pants was impressive, slick coaxed from your core in hot need of relief that only Satoru could give to you.

The tip of his finally freed cock was an angry purple, slit oozing pearlescent precum and very sensitive to the lightest touch. He was long, curved and so deliciously thick near the base, you could practically feel the stretch before you even moved over him to notch at your fluttering pussy.

“This what you want, Satoru?”

He didn’t know if he’d be able to keep the no touching rule going when you sheathed yourself fully, moaning directly into his ear. The itch to grasp you by the hips and teach you a lesson for teasing him so mercilessly by forcing you up and down his dick until you were the whimpering mess was rampant.

In the end, he behaved—barely.

“Ah, fuck… I-I’ll get you… shit… back for this. See how you look with… oh my god… with my blindfold tied around your wrists!”

[icycoldninja]

Sorry for all the requesting 🥺😭 This is gonna get dark!

May I please request headcanons for the Sparda boys + V reacting to their female S/O being kidnapped and tortured over a long period of time and they have to deal with the physical and mental aftermath when she’s finally rescued?

Ay, it's no problem. Here ya go, and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V X Fem!Reader kidnapped and tortured headcannons

Warning: As the title implies, there is some dark content coming up with themes of torture involved. If you are uncomfortable with these themes, DNI!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

¤ Dante ¤

-Oh boy. First it was his brother, and now his girlfriend? Whoever dared do this to you is in for a world of pain.

-He doesn't wait around long enough for the kidnapper to send him footage of what was being done to you; the moment he realizes you're in danger, he's hopped on his motorcycle and is looking towards your location which he discovered with his demon instincts.

-He finds you tied to a chair with barbed wire, bloodied, broken, and sobbing. While looking upon your battered and bruised figure, honestly feels like crying himself.

-Oh, his baby, his poor, poor baby. He loved you so much and never, ever, in his wildest dreams, would have wanted to see you hurt like this. He nearly Triggered right there and then, but he held himself back for your sake. He didn't want to terrify you any further than you were now.

-He got you out of that horrible place as fast as he could, his limbs shaking nearly as violently as you were when he carried you out of the kidnapper's hiding place.

-"Hey there, badass. You can relax now, it's all gonna be OK now that I'm here."

-The moment you guys returned to Devil May Cry, he fed you as many green orbs and Ibuprofen tablets as he could without overdosing you. He didn't want you to feel the pain anymore; he wanted you to be smiling and happy again.

-Once the medicine kicked in and you were comfortable enough to sleep, he held you. He refused to let go of you. He clutched you as tightly as he could, tears silently running down his face. How could he allow this to happen?! How could he let you get hurt like this? What kind of devil-hunter extraordinaire was he if he couldn't even protect the only woman in the world he ever truly cared about?

-He was going to spoil you with attention and affection even before you woke up. He wanted you to heal from this, and wanted to be the one to help you heal.

-You are so precious to him, and now he's going to show you just how much in any way he possibly can.

-Expect long, loving cuddles, big hugs every time you walk into a room, and words of affirmation whenever you look down.

-He'll also tenderly treat your wounds and wrap them himself, telling you how strong and brave you are to have survived all that pain every time he does so.

-This whole incident was a massive fright to him; now he's going to hold onto you so tightly, there's no way he could ever lose you again.

■ Vergil ■

-He is so, so, scared, but he refuses to show it. Vergil remembers what it was like to be brutally tortured at the hands of Mundus, so he is enraged and horrified when he finds out the same has been done to you.

-He can't stop himself--and won't. Whoever did this to you doesn't deserve that mercy. He Triggers, and sails away to find you, doing so in a sheer matter of minutes thanks to his demonic instincts.

-He bursts into your kidnappers' hideouts, roaring. He hears your anguished screams and flips into overdrive a second time, literally tearing through the walls as he frantically searched for you.

-The noise scared you, making you think it was the kidnappers returned to torment you further. However, when you saw the hulking, icy-blue devil crash through the wall, your fears were put to rest.

-The moment he saw your battered, torn form bound to a chair with barbed wires jutting into your flesh, he nearly blew up the building and all that was around it.

-There was so much anger coursing through his veins, you could feel it emanating from him, even as he gingerly undid your bonds and scooped you into his massive, scaly arms.

-"Do not cry anymore, Precious. The nightmare is over now. I am here. You are safe."

-He portaled you out of there with the Yamato and immediately took you to the hospital to get your wounds treated.

-He also refused to leave your side for any reason, insisting on staying and watching the doctors work, even if what they were doing was unsettling; he'd seen and been through much worse.

-The entire time, Vergil sat by your bedside, either staring at you intently, or holding your hand. He didn't want to let you go, and most certainly didn't want you to leave his sight.

-The moment you awoke, the first thing Vergil told you was that he loved you. He sounded out of character, considering this was something he rarely ever said aloud, but he was so afraid of losing you, and the PTSD of Mundus's torture was returning to him--he wanted you to have what he never did when he was recovering: comfort.

-He stayed by your side until you were discharged from the hospital, and after that, drove you home, only to wrap you in his arms and cuddle you till you both fell asleep.

-You both would undoubtedly be having nightmares about this for weeks, but for now, at least you were safe in Vergil's arms.

□ Nero □

-He found out what had happened to you in the worst way possible. He received a video from the kidnapper.

-It depicted the kidnapper, who wore a mask to obscure his face, using a crowbar to break your arms and legs while you were suspended by your arms from the ceiling.

-Nero lost it; his pseudo devil trigger Triggered and he was out the door in an instant.

-He doesn't possess the demonic tracking abilities of his father and uncle, unfortunately, but he manages to find you after a good half hour of searching.

-What he walks in on is disgusting. You're begging for mercy, sobbing and screaming under the pain your various broken limbs were causing you, all while your kidnapper laughed.

-Nero wanted to tie this motherfucker up and give him a taste of his own awful medicine, but he had bigger priorities: you.

-He freed you, shushing you when you screamed out in pain, promising he's gonna get you all patched up faster than you can think and that everything is gonna be ok.

-"You can rest now, baby, I gotcha."

-Once he takes you back to Devil May Cry, the entire Sparda clan and their friends are by your side in seconds, with Nero at the forefront. They heal your wounds in seconds and Dante makes corny jokes to lighten the mood.

-Then, they leave you and Nero alone to converse in private. It's a good thing they did, too, because almost as soon as the room was empty, Nero burst into tears, trapping you in a hug and sobbing into your shoulder.

-You ended up crying along with him; the two of you just bawling into each other's shoulders.

-Nero promised to never allow something like this to happen ever again, and spent the remainder of the night lying next to you with his arms and legs wrapped your you like a giant koala on a beat-up tree.

-You were very thankful for this because honestly, you didn't think you could survive this stressful, traumatizing night without having Nero snoring by your side.

● V ●

-V was texted a sickening video by an unknown number, and the moment he opened and watched, he collapsed.

-The kidnapper, standing offscreen, was repeatedly striking younin the face, chest, hips, and other areas with a spiked bat before kicking you in the stomach and shutting the camera--or whatever he used to film the video--off after releasing some unhinged laughter.

-V was terrified. He had no idea how to find you from this meager information, let alone save you.

-Still, he was determined to try, and so, gathering up his cane, he limped along, Shadow at his side and Griffon doing reconnaissance a few feet away.

-After some time, they found you, lying on the floor in an unbelievably deep pool of your own blood, yet still fully awake.

-V would have knelt there and cried, but he forced himself to swallow the tears and lift you to safety.

-Oh, Wanderer...what have they done to you?"

-He brought you to Devil May Cry and patched you up to the best of his abilities, using as many green orbs as he could get his hands on.

-Though your physical words may have been healed, your mental wounds were anything but.

-You were in so much shock, you were shaking from head to toe. V saw this and wished there was more he could do to help, but for now, he would hold your hands, kiss your cheeks, and rest his head in your lap while you told him anything and everything you needed to get off your chest.

-He read to you, too, his soothing voice doing wonders to ease your anxiety and calm you to a point where you could sleep.

-As V watched you slumber, he made a silent pact to always protect you, however he could, for as long as he could. He never wanted to see you go through something like this ever again.

[rippersz]

2. Lover’s Blood

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October Challenge Day 2: Lover’s Blood

(Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader Smut) (Period sex; Oral sex)

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“Well don’t you look ravishing,” she breathes, voice dipping into the sweetest purr as she slides her chin onto your shoulder and slowly winds her arms around your waist.

The feel of her clothing against your body, bare and damp from the shower you just stepped out of, is a little uncomfortable - but you find that you simply don’t care when she slowly pulls you back into her front. Letting you lean on her so she can get a better look; not even bothering to meet your gaze in the mirror and instead paying more attention to the beauty that is your nude form. All for her to admire. All for her to have.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, trying to hide the growing smile that pulls at your lips.

When she looks at you like that, eyes dark and focused, committing you to memory, tense with the desire to feel and touch, the cloying sensation of being wanted tends to cloud your judgment. She’s very persuasive, after all. And very talented with her fingers. And her tongue. And you watch, entranced, as the slim beautiful soft planes of her palms glide over your stomach and press into your skin. Gentle. Kind. Caressing and loving because she can’t ever get enough of you.

“Mmm, pot calling the kettle black, darling.” The little rumble in her throat, whispered right next to your ear, makes you shiver.

“I um- I-” you take in a quick sharp breath as those red lips go skating up and down your neck - hovering over your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface, before she ends her torment and starts pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I-…”

“Hm? You…?” Her voice is tilting, teasing, fading into blissful silence as her mocking hangs in the air and her mouth continues to leave bright red marks along your skin.

“Um-” There’s something you have to tell her, you know, but your mind is currently running around in one big flustered circle. Your eyes can’t remove themselves from the mirror. They trace her every move - even as she meets your gaze over your shoulder and keeps you there, tightening the arms that have made their home around your body. “There’s um- I have to- um.” You really just cannot remember. It was something crucial though, something that would stop the- oh.

Devilishly tapered fingers, perfectly manicured, dexterous and long, slowly tighten their sudden hold on your nipples. Twisting, tugging, all so slight and gentle, bringing your body forward to try and ease the tiniest edges of pain.

“Larissa-” you gasp, seeing how her brows set over her eyes. Is that a smirk on her lips? And a blush on her cheeks?

“What is it, my love?” Her mouth moves against your skin, huffing soft breaths to make you shudder. “Cat got your tongue?” And she takes that moment to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, her long pink tongue a delicious contrast to your heated body, forcing your lips apart in awe.

She’s slow, so slow, as she smiles. The sharp edges of her teeth revealed behind sweet red lips.

You swallow.

You have to remember, you know, before this escalates. It was something to do with- to do with-

“Oh shit,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as your arms rise and you push your forehead into your palms. “You’ve gotta be fuckin kidding me.”

You remember, unfortunately, and with that, your libido takes the hint and starts to cool. Larissa’s lips pull away instantly, and you watch through the gaps in your fingers as she straightens to her full height. There’s a frown on her lips.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Oh her compassion is so lovely, always so lovely, but the poor woman will most certainly be let down. Cursed by your body. You tsk at yourself and shake your head, letting your hands drag down your face before flopping at your sides.

“No,” you roll your eyes, “it’s just- I started my period yesterday.” And you give her an apologetic look, saying ‘I’m sorry you can’t fuck me senseless’ with just your eyes.

But Larissa doesn’t see that. In fact, she doesn’t see the problem at all. She blinks, instead, and tilts her head slowly. Then her blue eyes narrow and you fear, for just a moment, that you offended her somehow.

“I’m not a coward, darling.” It’s said so succinctly, with such dear confidence, that you can’t help but giggle. Your body jumps in her hold, making her pull back with a look of stern believability. You watch, amused, as her arms cross over her chest. “I’m not,” she states again, firmer this time.

You give her a placating smile.

“I know you’re not, my love, but still. It’s… just, no.” You can’t help the way your nose wrinkles.

Menstruation is normal, of course, and if Larissa were on her period, you’d have no qualms - but you’re not entirely sure if your lover is being truthful when she says she’s not ‘cowardly’. It’s not her obligation, after all. Sex can always wait.

Larissa disagrees.

“Why is it ‘just no’, sweet girl?”

Oh you love it when she calls you that. All combed whispers and coveted lust… god it’s like a shot of adrenaline through your veins. But it’s not enough to sway you.

“Because it’s like… gross? I dunno. It’s not gross, but you don’t- you don’t have to do that Larissa. We can wait.” You turn around to place a hand on her arm, appreciating the muscle that hides, then give it two gentle pats. “Plus I should probably get dressed. I’m gonna bleed everywhere.”

And Larissa almost lets you go when you move to walk past her. Almost.

“What if I want you to bleed everywhere?” Is the quick thing she says beneath her breath before whirling around and tugging you into her arms again. Her body is warm. Strong. Prepared to cushion you as you go stumbling back into your lover’s hold. “What if I don’t mind it at all?” Larissa whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin behind your ear.

What if she doesn’t mind it at all?

You pause.

What if she…. Hm. What if she doesn’t mind it at all….

“Larissa,” you go to warn, overlapping her hands with your own. “You’re skating on-”

“On thin ice?” She finishes, smirking at the helpless grumble you get in response. “How thin, darling?” And her hands dig into the softness of your belly, squishing you with relish. “Enlighten me. Please?” And she adds the smallest whine onto the tail end of her words; so softly and gently and wonderfully, you can’t help but feel so weak when she talks to you like that.

Evil woman. Evil woman, indeed.

“It’s j- I- I mean-” You try to speak, you really do, but then her warm palms start to rub circles onto your tummy and her nose starts to press against your neck, until she’s nuzzling you, and all you can do is let your eyes shut in complete bliss.

“If you don’t want me to, tell me no,” Larissa whispers, serious and true, as she starts to push you forward and walk you toward the bed.

The pace is slow on purpose, giving you time to turn around or walk off or stop you both in your tracks, but you find yourself melting into your lover’s hold and forgetting about why you tried to deny her in the first place.

“Are you sure, baby?” Comes your soft murmur as your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Before she responds, Larissa grips your hips and moves to turn you around. Your eyes meet, both full of unveiled lust and unbelievable want. She looks like she’s on the edge of finding treasure; wide-eyed and secretly excited. It’s adorable. And hot. And you glance down at her lips without trying to hide it.

“There’s not a single week out of the entire year,” Larissa inhales, moving her hands to the small of your back and pulling you flush against her curves. Her head bends. Her lips fall over your neck. “when I do not want to ravage you.” Her voice dips, low and accented and velvety and you feel the need to let your eyes roll back, but you keep yourself in check. She always tries so hard to get you to blush - and once again, she’s succeeded.

“Kiss me.” But she’s already there, two steps ahead, leaning up to capture your lips in a soft indulgent press.

Warmth curls in your abdomen, matching the ebb and flow of Larissa’s tongue as it flits in and out of your mouth; running over your teeth and pulling little whimpers from the back of your throat. She loves to take her time. She loves to tease. She loves to dance around your tongue and drag spit across your lips and smile when you give her the needy little sounds she wants.

She loves to unravel you with her mouth alone - and that seems to be her mission for the evening as she walks you backward and stops when your legs hit the side of the bed.

“I’m going to get a towel,” Larissa breathes against your mouth, eyes still closed and body swaying you both ever so slightly. “When I get back,” you watch with wide doe eyes as her lashes flutter open and her dark blue gaze starts to appreciate the blush on your cheeks, “I want to see all of you. Is that okay?” She speaks softly, eyebrows lifting and furrowing all at once as she double checks for consent.

The thought is still somewhat strange, but you know that you can always change your mind no matter how last minute. And it’s not like it’s terribly unsanitary. And as she said herself: she’s not a coward. So you nod, give her a clothed mouth smile, and respond with a soft “Yes. That sounds nice.” She rewards you with another quick kiss before she’s turning around and heading toward the en suite.

—

Your lover is unforgiving. A complete maniac. So devoid of any sense and only interested in satiating her own hunger. Keeping her arms wound around your thighs, using the brunt of her muscle to hold you as she wants to: spread out and helpless. Legs bent at the knees, hands grasping the sheets; her own palms press into your hips and hold them down. Pinning you in your spot as you writhe for mercy.

But she’s never been very merciful.

No, she’s only ever been wicked.

Swirling her tongue around your clit, building you up until you’re begging her to fuck you properly, only to cut off your cries with the harsh flicking of her tongue against the sensitive bud; sending you into a round of shakes and shivers. Hips trying to buck up into her mouth but never getting close enough. You’re so wet, she has trouble finding any real friction, but that doesn’t matter. She just uses her mouth.

“F-fuck! Plea- oh god- please!”

Plush lips wrap around your clit and suck, sending a burning heat through your veins. It’s overwhelming. It’s enough to make you huff and hyperventilate and shed a few tears. When you look down at her, head heavy and eyes threatening to close, you nearly cum on the spot.

Larissa’s staring at you from her place between your legs, the lower half of her face stained red and wet with your slick and blood as she presses her lips to your venus mound and lets her tongue loll out onto your clit. Dragging it up up up in slow strokes; never minding the taste of metal in her mouth or the womanly smell of your desire in the air. Nothing but your pleasure matters. Her fingers dig into your hips. Her throat rumbles with a deep moan. The corners of her red lips lift up into an unhurried grin; full of leisure. Entirely smug.

Finally satiated.

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Menstruating is normal!!! Period sex can be sexy!!! Everyone needs to consent!!! I support women’s sexual health!!!

Hope this was okay. Idc if it’s late. This is MY challenge and I’m a BUSY woman. :3 - Rip x

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[sserpente]

Happy Ending

Synopsis: Out of all people you could have been assigned to for your lifeguard training, it had to be Billy Hargrove. You hate the guts out of his cocky and flirty demeanour and during your lessons, Billy has no mercy and it shows—muscle cramps torment your entire body after another intense training session, and (un)fortunately, Billy takes notice and offers to give you a massage. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Request from anon. You asked, I delivered! But hear me out… what if he gave RC a seductive massage beforehand? ;-)

Words: 2654 Warnings: pure, shameless, and filthy smut

“Ugh…” You groaned, rolling your shoulders. Your lifeguard training was killing you. You’d be as stiff as a piece of log by the time you’d made it through the final exam. That’s how you’d end up saving drowning folk. They’d just use you like a piece of wood.

But you were determined to push through, if anything to prove a point. Billy Hargrove aka the pain of your existence, was pushing you to your fucking limits. Out of all people you could have been assigned to… well, technically, it had been a fifty-fifty chance. But boy, would you have preferred Heather over him.

Billy was a cliché on two legs. A cocky boy from California with abs, a womanizer, and a classic jock—not to mention he preferred to resolve disputes with his fists. You knew what he stood for and what his intentions were with the women he wooed and you hated yourself for being insanely attracted to him. Nothing good would come out of giving in to his recurring flirting attempts. He knew exactly what he was doing—knew about the effect he had on women and he was bathing in it. His ego was too big for his head, that was for sure; and the fact that during your lifeguard lessons, Billy repeatedly had his hands all over your half-naked body didn’t exactly make things easier for you.

You groaned once more, attempting to stretch a little. You had absolutely no idea how you had survived the past hour.

“You okay?” Billy came walking into the changing rooms, still wearing nothing more than his red swimming trunks. He was chewing on gum, a sly smirk playing on his lips when he noticed your struggles. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yeah… just tense. Muscles cramps.”

“I wasn’t going too… hard on you, was I?” He asked, playfulness playing in his voice. Damn him.

“No… I’m just not used to excessive workouts every day.” You realised your mistake, or rather, your poor word choice, the moment he started grinning.

“Oh, you’re not?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, stop it already. I hate you, remember?”

“I can help you, you know,” he said, unimpressed by my complaint and clearly still amused.

Raising your eyebrows, you glared him down suspiciously. “Oh yeah?”

Billy nodded. “I know a few… massage techniques.”

Your eyes widened and you took, no, jumped a step back.

“Absolutely not!” Billy’s hands slowly gliding all over your body, kneading away the knots? That… that sounded horrifying, it sounded… really hot. Which was why you could, under no circumstances, agree to it.

“Come on… Are you scared it could be… good?” He leaned in close and you cursed internally. Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I’m afraid of, for Fuck’s sake.

“No. I just… I don’t need you of all people to massage me, Billy. If I need to release some tension, I’ll go to a professional.” You winced, again slapping yourself mentally for your poor word choice. Billy chuckled.

“Follow me.”

You didn’t know why but you did. Billy led you to the lifeguard office in the back of the building. There wasn’t much in here—just some equipment, first aid kits, a surprisingly neat desk, and a low treatment table for injured pool guests.

“Lie down, stomach down.” He pointed at the treatment table. You hesitated. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. So why the fuck did you move toward it and did as you were told?

“Is it just your shoulders and your back?” Billy went to grab something from the sink area—you could only assume it was some sort of massage oil. You doubted this was part of the equipment here, he must have brought it himself at some point.

“Yeah…” you croaked out.

You tensed, staring at the wall and avoiding his gaze at any cost when Billy slid the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders and then proceeded to pour some massage oil into his hands. He rubbed them together, the soothing sound sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine, and then… you felt his hands on you.

Billy’s fingers were surprisingly soft and yet, they went to town firmly. A moan escaped your lips when he located the knots and began to massage them away.

“Told you I’m good,” he purred. You groaned by way of a response. Because the fucker was right. It felt amazing. He felt amazing. Billy knew exactly what he was doing—you didn’t even protest when, after a while, he pulled your swimsuit down further to reveal the entirety of your back. Up and down his hands went, exploring your bare skin and working away all of the tension his training had caused in the first place.

You could get used to this. You could fall asleep to this. Fall asleep and dream of Billy’s hands further down… no, stop! That’s exactly what he wants to achieve!

You were about to protest and opened your mouth when he travelled south with a start, testing the tense flesh on the back of your thighs. He tsked at you when his thumbs rolled over the knots and tense spots.

“I don’t think you were completely honest with me, doll.”

“I’m fine…”

“Flip over,” he suddenly said.

You ripped your eyes open, only realising now that you had closed them. You were naked from the waist up. If you turned around now, you’d give him a full front-row view of your tits. He wished, huh?

“I’m good, Billy.”

“Flip. Over,” he repeated. His voice was darker now, almost a little intimidating and… taunting in the most delicious and fuck, sexual way.

Grunting, you pulled your swimsuit back up just enough for it to cover your breasts and rolled on your back, meeting his blue eyes and staring daggers at him. He only chuckled.

“You’re really cute when you’re pretending to be angry.”

“I’m not pretending. I am angry.” Angry at how good it felt. Angry at how good he made you feel.

Billy smirked and poured some more oil into his palms. Next thing you knew, he was working your thighs so thoroughly that you tensed up in order not to wriggle around.

“Relax, babe…” Ha, easy for him to say. You had no doubt that he was enjoying this, perhaps even more than you were. Especially when his thumbs moved toward dangerous territory. Again and again, he grazed your inner thighs just a little too close to where you kept claiming he didn’t have an effect on you. A circumstance that was getting harder and harder to deny because fuck, you were growing wet. You could already feel the heat pooling between your legs, your breathing quickening.

And before you even knew it, your legs fell open further, inviting him in. It was over there and then. Fuck it. Fuck him, literally. You could only hope he had locked the door behind him. He won. He fucking won.

Your lips parted as Billy’s hands took the invitation. You bucked your hips the moment his thumb brushed directly over your still clothed clit, your nails digging into the treatment table, though this time, he didn’t tell you to relax. Instead, he did it again. And again. And again.

For a brief moment, he paused. And then, when you didn’t protest, he slowly pushed the thin stripe of fabric out of the way to reveal your glistening pussy to his greedy eyes. You were panting at this point, lost in the pleasure he was promising you without even speaking a word.

His fingers were slippery with the massage oil, his left thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped when you felt him push two fingers inside of you. He fucked you languidly, savouring every single second and you bucked your hips and arched your back, meeting his thrusts, silently begging for more.

You almost flinched upon hearing his seductive voice again. “I think that swimsuit needs to go, doll. It’s in the way… and we wouldn’t want to get massage oil all over it, now would we?”

Biting your lower lip, you hummed in agreement. All of a sudden, you did not mind him seeing you topless anymore at all. Quite on the contrary—it turned you on even more knowing that you’d be lying before him completely exposed, all his for the taking.

Billy did all the work for you. He removed his fingers from your pussy and chuckled when you whined at the loss. He then hooked his fingers into the hem of your swimsuit, pulling it all the way down—at an antagonisingly slow speed—to your ankles. You kicked them off, unable to hide your trembling. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this aroused, except, perhaps, this one time you’d been unable to fall asleep and instead decided to masturbate to the thought of Billy fucking you. Shit, you were a goner. A complete and utter goner.

“Jesus, I knew you’d look even hotter without the swimsuit.”

You moaned in response, still unable to meet his gaze. You kept your eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when his left hand cupped one of your breasts as if they’d been made for him. His other hand returned to your slick cunt. Sweet, wet noises echoed through the otherwise empty room as he fingerfucked you all the while the hand on your breast kept teasing your hardening nipple. By the time he moved on to the other breast, you were breathing heavily, a warm knot tightening in your stomach—fast.

And yet again, you had to admit… Billy knew exactly what he was doing, working you toward what already felt like the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. His voice alone almost tipped you over the edge.

“Do you wanna come, babe?” he rasped.

“Please…” You barely recognised your own voice at this point. Begging Billy Hargrove for an orgasm… you’d most definitely lost your marbles.

But before you could slap yourself for your horny stupidity, you fell. Billy made you see stars, his fingers working your cunt like an instrument and hitting all the right keys. You clenched around his fingers, drenching them in your juices as your toes curled and you came hard.

He made sure help you ride it out before he released you, wet hands gliding all over your bare body. He massaged your breasts for a little while until you came back to your senses, your eyes still closed in pure and utter bliss. You didn’t protest when he tilted your head and stroked your neck.

For just a brief moment, he stopped touching you. Then, you felt something hard pressing against your parted lips. You didn’t care what you were, didn’t care that he was a player and would move on to the next girl after this. You didn’t even care that you were supposed to hate him. You wanted Billy and you wanted him now. His cock in your mouth seemed like a good place to start.

Moaning with relish, you closed your lips around his tip and sucked gently, testing the waters. You’d given a couple of blowjobs before but with him, you felt the odd need to impress with your skills. The results were almost immediate. Billy sucked in air audibly when you took him deeper, tongue darting forward to tease his slit. He pushed forward slightly—surprisingly patient, he let you take him inch by inch at your own pace until you rolled over to taste him properly.

You were done for the very moment you tasted a salty drop of precum on your tongue. Accompanied by another moan, you started bopping your head up and down, your left hand busying itself with his tight balls. You released him with a smacking noise, right hand covering what you could not take, and suckled on his tip like a popsicle before licking over the entire underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…” Billy threw his head back just when you opened your eyes. Pleased with his reaction, you repeated the motion and then took him in your mouth again, faster this time. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting forward now and slowly taking control. You let him. You let him fuck your mouth until your gag reflex hit and your eyes were watering and yet, when he pulled out of your mouth, leaving your lips swollen and tingling, you made a disappointed noise.

“Where?” was all he said. You bit your lower lip and nodded toward the desk. He didn’t need to elaborate on his question. You knew exactly what he meant and quite frankly, you were too far gone to back out now.

“Condom?” you breathed out as you slid off the treatment table and approached the desk naked, your limbs still trembling a little from your intense orgasm earlier.

“Yeah…” You figured he went to grab one from his bag stored away in the corner, always prepared for a quick fuck with a girl he’d wrapped around his finger for sport. As much as you attempted to force yourself to, you couldn’t complain about it. Not right now. Not when you were desperate for him to finally fuck you and get that remaining tension—the tension between the two of you—out of the way.

Billy didn’t disappoint. His blue eyes were dark with lust when he returned to you without his trunks and quite an impressive erection still glistening from your saliva under the thin latex of the condom. He flipped you around so your hips hit the edge of the desk and bent you forward, fingertips ghosting over your spine.

You shivered, your lips parting to beg him to put it in already when he knocked all air from your body. Billy sank himself into you with but one eager thrust, a groan escaping his lips in the process. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you in place for him as he began to fuck you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge back in so forcefully your breathing became uneven.

Your hands reached for the opposite edge of the desk to hold on to something, your legs almost dangling in the air. On your tiptoes, you kept your arse lifted to meet his hungry strokes. Hunting his own pleasure now, you could all but let your eyes roll the back of your head. He was fucking you so good… Billy hit all the right spots inside you and his stamina… fuck, all of the other guys you had been with would have creamed their pants long before you could have brought your lips anywhere near their dick.

It felt good… it felt so good… oh god.

“You gonna come for me again, babe?”

You nodded and hummed in response, too dazed for a coherent answer, feeling yourself tightening around his hard cock right before you exploded a second time. Pleasure coursed through your body, filling you from head to toe.

Billy grunted. He fucked you through your climax relentlessly, stilled only moments later when his own release overwhelmed him and he emptied himself into the condom. Shit, for a second you wished you’d have asked him to fuck you raw just so you could feel him coating your walls with his seed. You whined when he withdrew. But there was always a next time. You’d make sure of it.

You were certain now that you didn’t actually hate Billy Hargrove. You had hated how much you had wanted him.

“I think I’ll need a… ‘massage’ after every training session from now on. Your lessons are so exhausting,” you said, panting.

Billy helped you turn around and stand up straight, naked bodies pressed against each other. He grinned, his lips ghosting over yours. “You know what, I think so too, doll.”

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

[scuttlingcrab]

So it's pretty obvious that Raphael would be a massive fan of luxury items. How would he react to Tav being able to make certain luxury items from scratch (such as lotions, massage oils, perfumes, soaps, etc.) and is really freaking good at it.

Maybe he learns this little fact about Tav when he receives a bundle of custom luxury items from one of his warlocks and it has a note which says, "To: Raphael. From: The mouse. A 'thank you' for the food." (assuming Tav filled a plate of food during the group's first encounter with the fiend)

Thank you for this awesome prompt. I took a liberty with this one, wanted to try something that maybe a writer hasn’t done before re: what luxury item Tav would make Raphael. I also referenced a few characters from my other stories. Marin, the composer from A Night at the Symphony and Dolofina, the warlock, from A Warlock is Born. I couldn’t resist! Hope you enjoy! And send on the next prompt if you haven’t already! :)

Summary: Raphael receives an unexpected gift from Tav.

Warnings: Mild violence/torture

––

A Perfect Fit 

(Image via violadesdragons)

The screams were like music to Raphael’s ears.

The torment that resonated from each shriek, every wail that echoed into his House of Hope, if directed well, could create a symphony that would feed Raphael for weeks. A melody almost as magnificent as Marin’s concertos. Raphael mastered what buttons to push, what minute threads to pull, to achieve perfection.

Every human was an instrument in their own right. They had a unique cord, an unsung talent, that Raphael knew how to excavate and mould. He had spent millennia fiddling with mortals, experimenting with different techniques to inflict pain or even less conspicuous means to really persecute his poor unfortunate pets. 

Nevertheless, Raphael despised it all. Torturing these creatures was so below his station, another idle role he had to play to keep up appearances in this never-ending farce to reach his objective, to reclaim the Crown of Karsus. He longed to see the players of his saga, his glorious ascension, leave the dark confines of the wings and enter the proscenium for all the planes to see.

Raphael listlessly looked up towards his current unfinished task, a withered mortal impaled on rusted spikes. No matter how hard Raphael stared at this rat, how tirelessly he worked his mind to calculate new methods to inflict agony, all Raphael could do was muster an apathetic groan in response. 

He was almost relieved to hear footsteps approaching the dungeon, identifying the bouncy gait of one of his warlocks almost immediately. Dolofina. 

Raphael smiled to himself, letting out a shallow breath as the doors slowly creaked open. He snapped his fingers, and another spike appeared, slowly lifting to meet the others.

“I do hope you have some interesting news for me. And think hard on your answer, or else I might swap you out with poor Boris.” 

Raphael turned to greet Dolofina, the whimpers of the tortured human slowly rising as he approached her. She stared back at him without any emotion, unmoved by the threat. He taught her well.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but a woman was insistent you receive this. She wouldn’t leave Korrilla alone until she confirmed we’d deliver it to you.”

Dolofina lifted the basket in her hands with a sigh, offering it to Raphael. 

“Pah! Which insolent creature is it this time? If it’s that damned–” 

“She only referred to herself as the, and I quote, ‘little mouse.’”

Dolofina seemed perplexed at the name, rolling her eyes as she waited for his response. Raphael’s mouth parted, his eyes instantly becoming more animated at the mention of her.

“Could she be crawling to me already?” So fast, and such a pity. He had been looking forward to a tussle.

Raphael gingerly picked up the basket, holding it in his hands and carefully inspecting every inch as if it was an ancient relic. What a simple little offering, merely a straw woven basket. Its contents were hidden under gold wrapping paper and held together delicately by a red bow.

“Don’t worry, we’ve already inspected it for traps.”

Raphael gave Dolofina a flat stare. 

“Do you think the creature would be so daft?”

Dolofina shrugged.

“I am merely a mortal, what would I know?” 

There was a hint of mischief in Dolofina’s eyes as she smiled back at Raphael, so pleased with herself. He growled, pointing towards the threshold of his dungeon. The skin on his human disguise hissed, verging on transformation. 

“You have overstayed your welcome. And might I remind you, I am your master. I can terminate our agreement whenever I see fit, be it from the smallest lapse in your performance. You know what that means for your future.”

“Yes, master.” Dolofina responded through tight lips. She promptly made her leave, but not without slamming the doors behind her. 

“Must every creature under my employment be so thickheaded?” Raphael whispered, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose. 

When Raphael was sure his boiling blood had cooled, he proceeded to focus his attention on the basket, now weighing heavy in his hands. It would’ve been a shame to have accidentally incinerated the gift with his temper, which was nearly uncontrollable in recent months, without even knowing what was inside.

Raphael started with the bow, carefully untying the knot. Once it was removed, he brought it to his nose, slowly taking in its scent. Cloves and roses. Oh how he relished it. Raphael placed the bow in his pocket and removed the wrapping paper. He discovered a small envelope sitting on top of a golden gift box. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through his veins as he opened the letter. 

To: Raphael  From: The Mouse  Thank you for the food. Please accept this gift in exchange for your hospitality. If the measurements are not sufficient, perhaps we can schedule a fitting. You know where to find me.

Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving the letter floating in the air beside him as he continued with the box. His fingers, usually so calm and still, twitched with excitement. 

Raphael gasped, removing a single doublet from the box, its red colour as dark as blood. The silk melted in his hands, the article of clothing sparkling against the roaring flames of the dungeon. Gold and silver markings were intricately embroidered throughout the jacket, infernal designs suiting Raphael’s tastes. The cuffs of the doublet were adorned with devil tails that swished and curled on a constant loop. 

“My, my, the little mouse has been busy indeed.”

And what artistry! It had been ages, no centuries, since his eyes fell on such an alluring piece. Is this what it would feel like once he held the Crown in his hands? 

Raphael snapped his fingers, the doublet now on his person. He sighed, oh it fit him perfectly, as if that creature knew Raphael’s body like the back of her hand. He raised his arms, bowed, did every possible movement that could come to his mind in that instant, and yet could find no imperfections. 

Raphael was a generous devil, perhaps often too generous. He wasn’t opposed to receiving such luxurious gifts on occasion, but it was dangerous to play with his food. He considered for a moment being harsher to his future clients. The little mouse had a long road ahead of her if she was to help Raphael get what he desired. She needed to focus. No more distractions. No more gifts. 

And yet… 

Raphael clapped his hands and a mirror appeared before him. He gave himself a little spin, grinning. It was a suitable doublet. Cursed creature! Perhaps he could make other uses of these tadpoled yet. What was that mortal saying he heard so often? Ah yes, all work, and no play… 

Raphael was pulled from his thoughts at the howls of the tortured mortal, still impaled above him. Raphael’s cheeks burned, he had been sloppy, overlooking that he was not alone.

He angrily snapped his fingers and the mortal combusted. Their screams died with the flames, leaving no signs of their previous existence as the ashes fluttered away. A waste of a soul, Zariel be damned. She’d never even notice it was missing. 

And with that, Raphael stormed out of the dungeon, proudly wearing his new doublet. 

[m-ilkiee]

"Within a span of one month, (name) (last name) has been physically, emotionally, mentally and sexually assaulted by two out of three Sano brothers because their egos couldn't handle being called out on their horrible treatment. Unfortunately for the poor woman, the mental strain took a toll on her and she attempted to take her life. She survived after desperate attempts to resucitate her and was rushed to a nearby hospital, where she was treated. One would think the Sano brothers would feel some form of guilt for pushing her towards the edge but no. In fact, this was just the beginning of the horrors (name) will experience in their hands." Layla's commentary podcast on chapter 1 and 2 of "Monsters"

Welcome to Monster's first ever poll! I have teased this since last month, but unfortunately, I haven't had the energy to do so. If you haven't read the last chapter, I'd advice you do so before we continue.

So, we've seen the two brothers in action. We've seen how manipulative Manjiro can be to bend the truth to fit his ideal and we've seen how cruel Izana can be, to make sure reader stays silent. With the two of them already made their move, the stage is set for the horrors yet to play out.

However, I am curious, the two of them went to such great lenghts to make reader miserable. Mikey gaslit Reader until she had no will to do anything and Izana reminded her of a past she would rather forget. Mikey broke her heart and Izana put cracks in her spirit, both different ways for the same goal, silence. so who do you think did was far worse and why?

(If you're too shy to comment or reblog your answers, my anons are wide open.)

(As I promised, I've decided to add something extra! Blind items! These are to add more context and shed more light on parts of the story I couldn't get in. Blind Items are submitted by an anoynmous side characters and if you can guess correctly who, I'll give you a special shout out in the next chapter!)

#1 Blind Item: Bruised Ego

"When reader came newly to school as freshman, the boss(Izana) had an actual interest in her. It even got to the point that he wanted to invite her to one of our parties to know her better. Unfortunately, he found out from (name)'s roommate whom he was hooking up with at that time, that (name) thought he was scary and preferred Mikey. This hurt him and made him want revenge to teach her a lesson. This is why he has all her past information at his finger tips, because he wanted to torment her since she unknowingly rejected his advances. He only paused because Emma later became friends with her and kept it in case. I know this because I travelled to (name)'s hometown to collect some of these information." - Submitted by an upper echelon in Tenjiku