#shows up to try n get raven to side with them

[queenimmadolla]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

  Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

  You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

  Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

  It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

  “Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

  “Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

  “It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

  “Branzino.”

  “It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap. 

  “Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already. 

  Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion. 

  He was so proud and in love.

  You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

  “She was stretching.” He correctly deduced. 

  “Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

  Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

  “Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

  Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

  “Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

  “No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

  “Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

  “Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

  “I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

  “And since she’s craving it─”

  “She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

  Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

  The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

  “You read it in a book, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ask your doctor about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

  You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

  “Branzino in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s what she wants!”

  “It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

  You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye. 

  “Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

  Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you. 

  That damn fish was so worth it.

[peachdues]

a glimpse at some soon-to-come Hashira interaction and a wee predicament in Compass

CW: slight reference to/implied roofie-ing • protective Sanemi • violently protective Sanemi • bad boy/gang AU • slight mention of throwing up

“Y/N?” Sanemi catches you right as you stumble once more. He brings you in against him, keeping you upright with his body as your knees give way.

“Y/N. Hey, hey.” He lightly slaps your cheek, cool and clammy under his touch.

Your eyes have rolled back and you’re muttering and moaning incoherently under your breath, but you manage a single, whimpered “Sanemi.”

“I’m here, I’m here, baby’. I’ve got you.” Sanemi loops your arm around his shoulders, allowing you to fully sink into his side. His other arm anchors itself around your waist. “What happened? Did you drink something?”

You mumble again, your head rolling heavily into his shoulder.

He sidesteps with Iguro, blocking him while keeping you in his arms.

“The diner on 12th street. Tomorrow night. Seven.”

And Sanemi knows, by the way his fellow Hashira’s eyes widen — marginally so — that he’s struck a chord.

Good, Sanemi thinks. Let him know that he has leverage of his own; an ace in his back pocket, should Iguro decide to test the limits of his patience.

His raven haired companion only responds with a tight nod that Sanemi returns before he turns toward your apartment building, and carries you inside.

“We’re home, baby,” he soothes, cheek pressed to your clammy temple as he carries you toward the door.

Sanemi doesn’t let himself think about the mental slip he’d just made, by telling you that you were both home; as though he has some claim to your apartment. As though he deserves to, especially after he failed to be with you tonight, when you needed him most.

He sets you down only for a moment to rummage his pocket for the key he’d had made to unlock your door, before he lifts you back up into his arms and totes you inside.

He makes a mental note to check your jacket for your own keys, as well as your wallet — to ensure they’re still on you and haven’t been swiped by whomever targeted you, lest they think it wise to return.

Some brutal, violent part of him dares them to try; let them come for you again. His reputation is brutal enough as applied to the lowlifes he’s tasked with breaking; let them see what he can do when someone he loves is threatened.

He’ll show them a monster.

But first, he needs to get you situated.

He makes for your bed, resolving to strip you free of your clothes and find one of the sweaters or shirts he knows you’ve swiped over the last few months when you begin squirming in his arms.

“Throw up,” you moan, pushing weakly against his chest. “Gonna — up —“

With lightning speed, Sanemi whips around and makes a beeline for your bathroom. He barely has time to set you down in front your toilet and flip open its lid before you’re retching into the bowl.

Sanemi sighs and settles in behind you, his hand gathering your hair together and sweeping it back, holding it out of your way. His other hand rests solidly against your back, occasionally rubbing soothing circles in between your great, shuddering gasps.

At some point, he helps you peel your sweater off of your sweat-dampened skin, leaving you in nothing but your bra and jeans as you continue heaving your guts into the toilet.

Sanemi leans forward and presses his lips against your sticky shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

You moan in some vague attempt at a response, though he’s not entirely sure you’ve heard him. You only rest your cheek against the cool porcelain of your toilet, your eyelids heavy as your breathing eases.

When an hour passed without you vomiting up your insides, Sanemi decides it’s likely safe to try and move you to your bed. He would be concerned by the heavy way you rest in his arms, dead to the world, if it wasn’t your steady breathing.

Once he’s stripped you of your jeans and underwear and found you his worn, white and black sweater to wear, he strips himself down to his briefs and climbs into bed with you.

You don’t move, even as he slides his arms under you to bring you to his chest , still too worried that you may throw up at some point in the night and be unable to roll to your side. But Sanemi basks in the temporary relief of knowing you’re here, warm and safe in his arms.

Whoever did this to you should be grateful Sanemi can’t unglue himself from your side right now. He will kill them regardless, and it will hurt; of that, he is certain.

But if he’d had the chance to hunt them down right then, Sanemi was fairly sure there would be no mercy. No where they could run, no where they could hide, where Sanemi would not hunt them down and make them pay.

Annnd Iguro knows about her

[rrinkyoo]

구원

and only then can i see my eternity.

♫ now playing – love… wave to earth

in which you experience your first kiss w/ haikyuu boys

includes: kageyama, tsukishima, akaashi, suna, kuroo, & iwaizumi

a/n: requested by anon! ty guys so much for all your amazing request! it may take me some time but i promise to reply to as many as i can! :)

KAGEYAMA TOBIO ౨ৎ

kageyama would be so awkward

i feel like he'd be the type of person to put so much thought into it to make ure it's absolutely perfect and make it tomewhat unforgettable. he's a very determined person, on and off court, so think he'd approach the first kiss in the same manner.

but then again, he's awkward. the days he spent planning to get it right going to complete waste due to his nerves, and he's barely able to mutter out a complete sentence.

the sun set long ago, and the sound of cicadas and screeching of sneakers from inside the gym were the noises y/n heard. it was almost a daily routine for the freshly new couple to walk home together. y/n would wait outside with a couple of snacks for the both of them, he'd take his share and walk them home while occasionally rubbing his hand against their own, then they'd go their separate ways for the night.

usually they'd engage in a casual conversation discussing their day, but kageyama had been oddly silent throughout most of the walk. "are you okay?" they questioned after a long time of awkward silence. kageyama simply nodded while continuing to look at his feet as they walked. y/n thought maybe he was stressed about practice or an upcoming tournament, his face looked like he was going to hurl.

they finally arrived at y/n's residence and turned to face each other to say their final goodbyes for the night, but kageyama still couldn't keep eye contact. he fiddled with his hands as his eyes darted everywhere but them. "are you sure you're okay?" they questioned again, a look of pure concern jow stitched onto their face. kageyama had spent days planning this, weeks even it now that the moment has come every detail of his well-prepared plan slipped his mind.

all he could think of was just how beautiful y/n looked with the shine of the moonlight slightly glistening on them.

"i- uh." he started, but anything he wanted to say couldn't leave his mouth. deciding not to waste any more time, kageyama grabs onto their shoulders and pulls them in, pressing his lips on the soft plush of heirs. he didn't even give them a second to respond before pulling away and running his way back home, leaving y/n in utter state of shock.

".. i'll see you tomorrow?!" she yelled. but it didn't seem to reach the ears of the raven- haired boy who had already turned the corner.

TSUKISHIMA KEI ౨ৎ

tsukishima would attempt, keyword attempt, to be nonchalant about it.. but the blush on his face says otherwise!

tsukki is known for being relatively emotionally distant and tends to use sarcastic humor as a way to hide it.

i think that'd he would use this humor during the kiss to deter away from the fact that he's showing his more soft/vulnerable side

"oi, pay attention," tsukishima teased as he gently tapped y/n's head with the pen he held in his hand. "the answer is practically right in front of you." the two sat on the floor of tsukishima's bedroom, studying for an upcoming exam in the subject y/n struggled in the most: math.

y/n groaned and leaned back until their back hit the floor, running their hands all over their face in agony. "i hate this! i don't wanna do it anymore!" they complained once more for what tsukishima felt was the hundredth time. he rolled his eyes at his partner's behavior, grabbing their hand and lifting them to make them sit back up.

"it's not that bad, you're just not trying." he retorted. y/n pouted at their boyfriend's words and slouched as he continued to go on and on about the lesson in front of them. but as he kept talking, the sound of his words was completely drowned out and all they could think about was how pretty he looked right now

he was wearing a hoodie that y/n finally returned to him, sweatpants, and talking about whatever blah blah blah nonsense he was saying. they always did find intelligent men attractive. the thought was sudden, but now that they thought about kissing him it wouldn't leave their mind.

tsukishima was still distracted from explaining the lesson to them to notice that they were crawling towards him until he felt a hand touch his cheek. he looked up with a raised brow, and before he could even react y/n was pressing their lips against his.

tsukishima stared at them almost wide-eyed after they pulled away. "tuh, what was that?" he muttered before looking down at the papers sprawled on the ground. it may have sounded like he didn't care, but the redness on his face and the tips of his ears gave it away.

AKAASHI KEIJI ౨ৎ

the calmest of them all honestly.

i don't think he'd pre-plan like kageyame but he would choose the perfect setting and itd turn out amazingly. i think he'd be the type of partner to read his s/o's ody language perfectly.

akaashi would make it a comfortable situation for both him and his partner while never being too brash nor too nervous.

the serene, dimly lit surrounding followed by the soft blue hue of the water provided for an instant relaxation upon y/n and akaashi. the two walked hand in hand as they explored the aquarium, looking at all the cute fishies and the rest of the sea animals. y/n always had a keen interest in these type of exhibits. the ocean was always intriguing to them and they made this well known.

akaashi took this opportunity to bring them to a nice aquarium in tokyo. it was small, but that didn't matter. akaashi was okay with anything as long as they were there too. "are you having fun?" he asked them softly. their eyes were practically stars as they continued to observe every corner of the aquarium, and he couldn't fight the small smile that stretched onto his face.

his question goes unheard as y/n takes in the view of everything, running to the fish eye tank they spotted feets away. akaashi chuckled slightly as he followed closely behind them and eventually took a seat beside them. "it's pretty, isn't it?" they murmured as they stared off into the tank, but akaashi's eyes never left their figure "it's gorgeous."

y/n turned to face him, and his cerulean eyes bore into theirs as he gazed at them lovingly. "what?" they asked. but akaashi said nothing and shook his head. he softly cupped their face and pulled them in as he leaned in to meet in a kiss. it was tender and slow but it was enough to show how much akaashi truly cared for them.

SUNA RINTARŌ ౨ৎ

another one that is extremely calm

similar to akaashi, i don't think he'd pre- plan. however, he'd do it more spontaneously. maybe his body reacts before his mind does while he presses his lips against yours.

i think he'd also tease similarly to tsukishima, but a bit more dialed down.

suna crashed onto his bed as he kicked his shoes off and rested his forearm on his forehead, y/n-also kicking off their shoes and crashing next to him. the pair had an extremely long and tiring day at school, and a nap was very much needed. they both turned on their sides to face each other, their eyes threatening to close.

"i'm so tired." y/n mumbled. suna couldn't even utter a sentence, he simply nodded while his blinks slowly got longer and longer. he grabbed y/n by the waist and pulled them into his chest, tucking his face away in the crook of their neck. his hold on them tightens as he feels their small exhales on his neck. "so am i." he finally spoke.

suna and y/n would always take naps together. but today was different. the stress suna had from volleyball practice and the one y/n had from studies, the two could go into hibernation right now and not wake up for months if they could. but it was impossible, so for now they just enjoyed the warm embrace of the other.

they both stretched and entangled their limbs together as they got ready to take a nap. y/n closed their eyes and was on the verge of slipping into slumber before they felt a small press against their lips. opening their eyes abruptly, they see suna staring back at them with a sly smirk on his face. ".. what was that?" they uttered with their eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

"a kiss silly," suna teased. "you looked so cute i couldn't help myself." the two just stared at each other, blinking slowly waiting for the other to say something "why?" they asked confused. it was such a random place to have their first kiss. but suna simply shrugged. "i don't know." he answered.

"..wanna do it again?"

"sure."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME ౨ৎ

this man will be straight up and not hesitate.

i think iwa would be more abrupt. like you guys would just be talking and all of a sudden he's smashing his lips onto yours. he wouldn't doing it harshly though. in a very firm but gentle way.

he'd do it based on his gus instinct. if he elt that it was the right place and time to have your guys' first kiss, then it's right.

the gymnasium boomed with thunderous cheers and claps as the final blow of the whistle sounded. aoba johsai had made it to nationals. as the team came to embrace each other on the court, iwaizumi scanned the crowd, looking for that one familiar face. as they made eye contact, he could see y/n standing there looking down at him with a bright smile on their face as they screamed joyously.

5 minutes later, the team exits through the doors of the gym to the hallway, and iwazumi is met with the sight of his partner standing right in front of him with open arms. he rushed over to them, grabbing them by their thighs and lifting them in the air as y/n squealed in surprise. "i'm so proud of you!" they praised.

iwaizumi put them down and hugged them tightly while breathing heavily, still out of breath from the intense match not long ago. his face was tucked securely into the crook of their neck as he swayed them both side to side. "thank you." he murmured into the skin. y/n couldn't fight the tears welling up in their eyes as the amount of pride they held in their boyfriend was too much

but before they could react, iwaizumi was pulling away and smashing his lips into theirs, y/n letting out a surprised squeal before melting away in the kiss. his calloused hands caressed their face as he poured all of his passion into it.

KUROO TETSURŌ ౨ৎ

he would be extremely confident during the first kiss.

kuroo is calculated. this helps with his self- assurance and the way he initiates/reacts during the kiss. he would start off by lightly teasing his partner before initiating the kiss.

he is also highly observant, and is able o read his s/o's body language in the same way akaashi does.

a first date at the science museum seemed ike an odd pick. but for kuroo and y/n there couldn't be anything more perfect. as the two walk hand in hand, they both drag each other to different parts of the exhibit and list off random facts that weren't listed on the descriptions

"it's fascinating, isn't it?" kuroo said. he was intrigued with the 3D model of kinetic energy that was presented in front of him. y/n couldn't help but admire how eager their boyfriend was. both of them had an interest in science, but kuroo's beat hers by a long shot.

they couldn't help but trail their eyes over his face, taking in the smaller details. like the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, the way his eyes sparkled when he was doing something he liked, everything was admirable. and his lips slightly glistened and they couldn't help but wonder what his lips would feel like on theirs,

kuroo noticed this, of course. how could he not? he couldn't ignore the feeling of their eyes on the side of his face and the way they'd fiddle with their fingers as they continued to observe every inch of his face except for the views in front of them. if it was anyone else, he would've been annoyed. but y/n? he found it endearing kuroo turned to her and chuckled as they tensed when he caught them staring. "do you want to kiss me?" he asked abruptly, teasing them softly.

their eyes widen as their muscles tense up, stuttering out mutters explaining how they weren't staring but kuroo didn't buy it. he continued to tease them as he stepped closer, grabbing the back of their head softly without them even noticing. kuroo connected their lips, blurring out their surroundings. in his mind, it was just him and his lover sharing their first of many more.

©RRINKYOO 2024 | PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR RESPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS!

[r0-boat]

can you do gamigin NSFW alphabet pls???

Of course a Lucifer Nsfw wouldn't be complete without his baby brother!

Gamigin NSFW alphabet

Cw: breeding, rough sex, primal sex

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare what's that? You mean that deep urge to hold you close, protect, heal and pamper you after breeding is called something?!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Soft lap, comfy lap. Laying his head in your lap nuzzling his nose and your plush and inhaling your scent, curling up in your lap as you stroke his scales and fur. He could die happy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Feeling his balls tightening up his shaft and squeezing as he fills you to the brim, He can't help but press his hand over your belly, digging his claws into the skin as he forces you down as far as you can go on his cock, making sure you take every drop.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes when you come over and after you use the shower he takes your towel he buries His nose into it before touching himself. If the towel is still slightly damp the harder he cums.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You would be his first ever time He has no experience. He's going off of pure draconic instinct.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy. Best to breed you with ;)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Mating is supposed to be fun! Even if he's nervous he tends to make jokes when he's nervous. But after a certain point that goofy side all melts away into pure lust (more on that later)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Clean, Not that he shaves... he just doesn't have hair down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He sees mating is a special thing! And he wants to express how he feels... He just doesn't know how to show it, even when He gets all sorts of advice from his older brothers. He doesn't know what humans do or The devil way to court doesn't feel right to him and he barely even knows how dragons court... Why is mating so hard?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Burying his sharp teeth and his fist until he bleeds as he fucks a toy till it breaks growling and gnashing as he pretends it's you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than the canonical one he has a big breeding kink. Fuck how he wouldn't give to have a little family of his own... And not only that it gives him a sense of satisfaction to give everything he has to you, to claim you.

Don't try to squirm or move away you'll just unlock his predator instinct to hold you down His jaws bearing on your neck as he continues his brutal pace.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere everywhere. Especially in a shower, bathtub... Or skinny dipping You'll never see him the same again

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You're naked wet body, You're naked wet body with new shampoo and sweet smelling soap. You're sweet freshly ravished body still smelling of another demon. When he finally gets going he can't control himself it's like he becomes a whole other person. Sweet baby Dragon becomes ravenous beast.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Actually not really, He's very eager to please, And he will always try anything once.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

His skill could definitely use work But hes so eager to pleasure you He eats you out like a starving man getting rougher and deeper with each flick, lick and suck.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

From slow and sensual to will break you. He tries not to lose control but he fails every time, once he has his very first taste of you He's hooked and he could never get off the drug that is you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Don't tempt him He's not going to just be satisfied with one quickie. Will want more and more and more until before you know it He's ramming against you and the sun is already going down.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like I said eager to please he is happy to experiment! Though he might be a little nervous the first time around.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina I dare say far surpasses Lucifer and Mammon. he is a dragon after all.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't understand toys. He rather just be inside of you.

It'll have to take some convincing ;)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If you think it's a good idea to tease a dragon be my guest. He might look teasable and cute at first glance but looks are very deceiving.

Gamigin also doesn't get teasing He rather just be inside of you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud animalistic and unholy. Everyone in a radius will know, and it's so hard for him to keep his mouth shut. To keep him from howling at how good you're inside, clamp down around him. He bites into clothing, pillows, blankets, and even himself.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When he's fucking you he slowly begins to become more dragon-like his skills start to appear on his body his claws become sharper and thicker than his canines get longer.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Yes.... He has two. And they're big

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Yes holding you close as he snoozes away when he finally finally gets all of his pent up frustration out on you. He likes being the little spoon :)

[vaokses]

Never enough for both (Pirtir, Ch.4)

Series Masterlist

<< Previous Chapter

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Both sides of the family are reunited in King's Landing to formally announce the betrothal and start the celebrations leading up to the wedding.

Word Count: 7.7k (sorry, if long chapters like this bother you, I can try to make future ones shorter or divide them in parts, let me know)

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Hints at alcohol consumption in unhealthy manners. I love Maris Baratheon, so she's here, though not in all her glory as she's not taunting a man into kinslaying, sadly. ✨Childhood Companions✨. Both sides of this family are messy and annoying, and I hope I showed that properly here.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I think I'll change uploads for this story to Sundays instead of Saturdays. Hope you enjoy!

This chapter includes some stuff also mentioned/explained in How long this love can hold its breath, a prequel oneshot in Aegon's perspective.

Title is from "So, here you are, too foreign for home, too foreign for here. Never enough for both." By Ljeoma Umebinyuo.

Your morning tea with the Queen is followed by the announcement that the Velaryon fleet -and by extension your family- can be seen quickly approaching the city, with six dragons flying alongside the boats. 

You got to meet the Velaryons that arrive on the port, which are the ones sailing from Driftmark, as your mother and the rest have decided to enter the city through the Dragonpit. To your surprise, Corlys is there to greet you, after a long absence at sea. 

Baela makes very unsubtle attempts to return to the Keep on your carriage with you alone, so after a quick greeting of Princess Rhaenys and the Sea Snake, you promise to meet with them later and enter the carriage with Baela. 

Sitting across from her, you keep silent as you watch her, as you notice her uncharacteristically falter, lowering her eyes to her fidgeting hands.  

“Corlys and Rhaenys aren’t getting along, for obvious reasons. They aren’t the only ones,” She informs you. “Daemon and your mother are…at odds with one another.” 

“And you know this how, exactly?” 

“I can hear the shouting all the way from Driftmark,” She jests, the glint of defiant humor shining in her dark eyes. A breath, and she explains, “Rhaena sent a raven, told me that father was furious that this was allowed to go on.” 

“‘This’?” 

“Your marriage to Aegon.” 

“But it has been months in the planning.” 

“Perhaps Daemon hoped for an…alternate solution to present itself,” She shrugs, “We both know Father would have sent you here to kill him, not marry him.” 

You chuckle humorlessly, “I shall be on the lookout for new orders, then.” 

Instead of joking along, Baela turns to you then, dark eyes slightly narrowed. 

“Would you follow such orders?” 

You offer a smile again, but you know better than to expect her to fold. 

Still, you attempt, “Did Daemon give you orders to ask this?” 

“No, I’m just…curious. If he had ordered you to kill them, any of them, of your…childhood companions, would you have?” 

“It is a bit late to send Vermithor and I against Sunfyre and Aegon, or Dreamfyre and Helaena. We’d win, though.” 

“Undoubtedly. But that wasn’t what I asked.” 

“Daemon has issued no orders.” 

She is more alike her father than she knows, especially when she’s on a hunt. They track weakness like bloodhounds, and they don’t cease on their chase once they’ve caught a scent. 

She presses, “Perhaps because he knows you wouldn’t obey.” 

“I have always done as was asked of me.” 

“Have you?” Baela asks. While you admire her spirit, you do not intend to entertain accusations, and you turn to her with a glare that she smiles at. Bowing her head slightly, she amends, “I am not implying disloyalty, I just…I think you believe yourself less…unyielding than you actually are. I think you don’t like to admit you have ambitions of your own.” 

It is difficult for you, even now, to push back the voice that reminds you that you have been too careless, too trusting, and you have allowed Baela to see more than she should have, more than it was useful for her to see. To lie well you must never be defined or remembered, Lady Mysaria told you years ago, an ordinary face is lost in a crowd. 

And despite Baela being one of the only people you’ve been able to count on as a constant, despite the fact that by blood and love you are bound to one another, despite knowing deep in your bones that you can count on her to have your back come what may; you resent the realization that she sees in you something you didn’t intend for her to, something that isn’t useful for her to see. You do not know what to do, at the threat that she might have seen you, and might have remembered you. 

“My ambitions are to support my House and my mother. I have done only what was asked of me.” 

“Were you asked to promise love to Alasdair Tyrell in order to have him sail to the Shield Islands and turn them to your cause? Were you asked to use Cragan Stark’s…friendship with Jacaerys to force his hand when he refused to offer a proposal of marriage?”  

If Alasdair Tyrell hadn’t sailed to the Shield Islands with the Redwyne fleet and turned them to your cause, you would have no solid argument against Lady Mysaria and her wish to marry you to him. If Cregan Stark hadn’t issued a proposal of marriage you would have had to trust only in your mother’s choices to keep the North. Either alternative would mean relinquishing control, would mean uncertainty, powerlessness, and you were unwilling to even entertain the possibility. 

“I did not lie to Alasdair, my affections were honest,” At her look, you concede, “I care for him, even if I do not love him. And I merely…discussed with Cregan the realities of our expectations of one another, which he found agreeable enough to issue a proposal.” 

“Hm,” There’s a smile on her lips that she learned neither from her father or her mother, but from her grandmother. The smile of a spider with an insect caught on its web. “How convenient, then, that in your honesty you earned yourself the Reach and the North.” 

“I don’t appreciate accusations,” You dismiss, rolling your eyes at her answering chuckle. “When Vaemond plotted with Oldtown to challenge my brother’s claim to the Salt Throne, it was you who asked me to deal with it, it was you who told Daeron Velaryon I was to entertain his proposal of marriage to get him to share his father’s secrets.” 

“You choose to embody a weapon, and you mind being wielded?” She asks, hints of laughter still clinging to her tone. Baela shrugs one shoulder. “I am not judging you, so you can stop glaring at me. If anything, I admire it.” 

“Do you?” 

“While Vhagar lives, you are not yet the greatest power in the Realm. Daemon would have you kill the hoary old bitch, and I might agree with his strategy, but…I commend you for yours.” 

“Hm.” 

She chuckles again, “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Pout when I remind you of a truth you mislike hearing,” She says, “Gods, you and your brother are more alike than you like to admit, did you know?” 

All too eager to put an end to this conversation, you divert it towards Jace, and say, 

“My mother should be arriving soon with Daemon, Rhaena, and my brothers. The Queen said they are to…start the celebrations today, if the King is well enough.” 

“Is it too much to ask that they don’t arrive at all? None of your brothers should be coming here, not to mention our sister.” 

“Your s-…” 

Baela dismisses your words with a gesture of her hand, “Don’t bother.” 

You decide not to fight this unending battle today at least, and lean your head back against the seat, regarding her quietly for a few moments.  

“They have no choice but to be here, it would send the wrong message if my family fails to attend my wedding,” You say, but she presses her lips together, answering with nothing but a short grunt. “What troubles you, Baela?” 

“There are too many of us together in the same place,” She tells you, as if it is obvious. She looks out at the passing streets. “I doubt an eye is all someone will lose this time.” 

Your brow furrows. 

“You worry me.” 

She offers only a smile in return, confident and sly. 

“I assure you it is mutual, sister.” 

“Stop that.” 

“Make me.” 

 ___ 

Your mother and brothers -and you assume Daemon alongside them, you haven’t seen him as of yet- choose to spend the better part of the morning and noon with your grandsire. They remain by him as the gathering of members of the Great and Noble Houses of Westeros on the Keep grows, the highborn within the Keep and the lowborn outside of it waiting for their King to announce his son’s wedding celebrations, to write in stone the union they have known or suspected about for months now. 

Your eye catches on Mina Redwyne, second eldest of House Redwyne, as she talks with two of the Four Storms. Well, your eye doesn’t catch on her, but on the deep emerald dress she has chosen to wear. 

She notices your eyes on her, and turns to you with the clear intent to approach you. 

Turning to accept the servants offered glass of wine, you look at Baela, Rhaena, and Rhaenys and mouth save me. Before they can answer with anything other than the laugh Baela hides behind her hand, the ladies reach you. 

“Princess,” Mina greets, echoed by Maris and Cassandra Baratheon. “My congratulations on your betrothal. May the Seven bless you both.” 

You nod with a little hum, taking a sip of wine to try and dislodge the knot in your throat. It hasn’t gotten any easier to hear people speak of your betrothal, even now, just shy of having the King announce seven days of festivities before the wedding is to take place. 

“Thank you, my Lady,” You agree, smile in place, “It seems the both of us meet only for wedding celebrations as of late. First your brother’s in the Arbor, and now mine.” 

“How could I forget?” She replies. “In a sea of green and burgundy, there you were, wearing red. I can’t say I recall you ever wearing something that wasn’t red. Or black.” 

Of course she hasn’t, there was a reason for your tour and everything about it, from the servants that accompanied you to the clothes you were, were planned in order to send a message. And she knows that. 

Doing your best to mask the tiredness at the game she has only just started, you smile and say, 

“I am proud to wear my House’s colors. As any Lady should.” 

“Not all of us can afford to, Princess,” Maris Baratheon reminds you, sly smile curving at her lips, eyes trailing over Lady Mina’s green dress. “What with the mad race to be married off like cattle and all that.” 

“Hey.” You complain, gesturing with your free hand. 

Maris merely laughs, quite close to a witch’s cackle, and clinks her glass of wine against yours. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” She mocks. Her brow furrows, and her eyes divert to somewhere over your shoulder as she pretends to look for someone. “Though I believe it is your betrothed I am to extend my congratulations to? The man won a race he wasn’t even participating on, after all.” 

“You shouldn’t scorn the ways of court. You will soon be searching for a husband, sister.” Lady Cassandra, Borros Baratheon’s eldest, points out. 

“Or I could do as you do, and sulk for the rest of my days, mourning a rejection even a blind man could have seen coming,” Maris quips in response, and you share a look at the blatant insult with Lady Mina, for a moment your own quarrel forgotten. “Mother does always say I should follow your example.” 

“I’d dare say it takes more than a shared name for you to be equal to your sister, Lady Maris,” Mina quips, coming to Cassandra’s defense without a second thought. “Your House’s name was not enough to warrant you the proposals Lady Cassandra has received, was it?” 

You care much more about keeping Maris Baratheon, the cleverest of the Four Stroms and the daughter who currently holds Lord Borros’ ear, on your side than appeasing a daughter of House Redwyne. Mina has spent her life on the shadow of the Hightower, you know her alliances won’t change. 

So, making sure to keep your tone civil, but firm, you point out, 

“Some aspire to more than marriage, my Lady,” You say. “Lady Maris has much to offer her House, she can be more than a vessel for an alliance.” 

“Unlike others.” Maris bites out, cold gaze set on the other woman. Each time you spend time with her in court you realize why her mother threatens to cut off her tongue so often. 

“All women eventually have no choice but to bend, Princess,” Mina reminds you. Her gaze drops to the rubies on your dress and she adds, “Even women like you.” 

If your smile betrays something more honest, something closer to poison, then so be it. 

“There are no women like me.” 

Maris barks a short laugh, improper and unladylike, “You still believe humility to be a wasted effort, I take it?” 

“On the contrary, I find it admirable,” You lie, sharing a smile with the second eldest of House Baratheon. She returns a smile in kind, a little crooked but honest. You continue with yet another lie, “I just believe honesty is paramount when speaking amongst friends.” 

Lady Redwyne loses none of the edge, and the way her shoulders are drawn up in tension, ruffling the fabric of her dress, reminds you of a puffed-up bird. 

“We are to speak honestly, then?” 

“I dare say that sounds like a threat, Lady Mina.” Maris taunts, lifting the cup of wine to her lips and looking at the daughter of House Redwyne over the rim of her glass. 

“Of course,” You answer Mina’s question. With a small shrug, you prompt, “Speak with honesty, I wish t-…” 

You are interrupted by a hand resting on the small of your back, startling you into silence. You turn with wide eyes towards Aegon, now standing by your side, hand brazenly on you. 

“My Ladies,” He greets, brazenly false charm on display. He turns to you and bows his head slightly in greeting, “Princess.” 

“My Prince.” Lady Mina is the first to greet, and your appalment at his lack of care for manners is forgotten at the sight of her attempt at charm. Your eyes narrow towards her, but you say nothing. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I stole my betrothed from you for a while, would you?” 

The ladies acquiesce with mumbled goodbyes and promises to speak with you again after the King’s speech is delivered. You sincerely hope they cannot find you. 

Aegon leads you away from them and towards another part of the vast hall where the nobles gather, hand still boldly resting on your back. You make a point to take a step to the left, away from him, and point out,  

“It isn’t appropriate to touch me in public. We aren’t yet married.” 

“Would you prefer that I touch you in private? Because th-…” 

“It isn’t appropriate to ask that.” You interrupt, but a smile is foolishly tugging at the corners of your lips, and he notices, because his own smile widens. You look away. 

“No one expects me to behave appropriately.” 

You frown, very pointedly avoiding the eyes of the Queen and her brother as you pass them by. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then I’d disappoint you sooner than I intend to.” 

As you walk into the gardens, you stop in your pace and turn on your side to face him. hands joined behind your back, your head tilted to the side, you ask,  

“Do you intend to disappoint me?” 

He shrugs slightly, a downward curve of his mouth as he considers your question. 

“An inevitability,” He retorts. A breath, and Aegon offers an arm for you to take. An appropriate gesture, followed by an appropriate title, “Princess.” 

It shouldn’t endear you, it really shouldn’t. And yet you furrow your lips to hide a smile as you take the offered arm and let him guide you through the inner gardens of the Keep. 

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” You ask, “You did ‘borrow’ me from the delightful company of those ladies.” 

“Not…exactly.” 

Gods, he is such a terrible liar. You mull over is answer, his actions, for a few breaths, as you walk through the busy room towards the gates to the gardens. 

“How many of those women have you fucked, that it worries you that I speak with them?” You blurt out, careful to keep your voice low, almost a whisper. You will tell yourself that the strange edge in your tone, what sounds even to you like jealousy, was part of a game, was intentional. “I know of the…activities you partake in. Court gossip may not speak about my indiscretions, but it does speak about yours.” 

“None of them,” He answers plainly. A breath, a moment of hesitation, a restless movement stalled by the weight of your hand on the crook of his arm, and Aegon turns to look at you. There’s something raw, in his slightly widened eyes, in the expectant expression. “Do you believe me?” 

You cannot help but think back on the previous night, and the careless way he gave away secrets he should have kept guarded, the way he seemed not to care that he is baring vulnerabilities with each breath, with each look. And you have this irrational and sudden anger at him for it, for this stupid bravery, this weakness, this rough honesty. 

More than anything, you are angry at the part of you that envies him for it, for being unable to wear anything but his true face. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You answer without thinking. You aren’t sure if you’re lying or not. 

“I can think of many reasons.” Aegon retorts, wry smile curving at his lips. 

He doesn’t say anything else, and his attention returns to the gardens around you. It seems only then he notices the unsubtle way the lords and ladies scattered about keep staring at the both of you. 

“No one of noble blood is happy with this union,” You point out before he can say anything, “Every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms is cursing your name, most likely. They wanted…well, it varied, but ultimately they all wanted their blood on the Iron Throne. In marrying me, you denied them of that chance.” 

“I know about being denied what I want most, but I doubt they would care about my sympathy.” 

“Do you?” You ask, the beginning of a smile curving at your lips. “What, as eldest son of a King, as a Targaryen Prince, have you been denied?” 

“You.” 

He answers so bluntly, as if the truth is without its weight, as if it is obvious, as if it isn’t dangerous to admit such a thing, that you are stunned into silence for a breath. 

“You never told me,” You say, “Before I left, you never told me of what you had attempted.” 

“Why does it matter? It wasn’t enough, it didn’t change anything,” You have the errant thought that it might have changed things, it might have changed you, if you had known, if he had told you. You say nothing though, and Aegon continues, thoughts spilling past his lips with no need for wine to loosen his tongue, truths being shared like grains of sand escaping from closed fists, “Refusing them all this time didn’t change anything either, you were still-…But I did it anyways. I was always slow to learn, wasn’t I?” 

A knot forms somewhere in your throat, something unnamed lodged in your chest. Because he is implying more than having merely asked to marry you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My mother and Otto attempted to make arrangements, to betroth me to some lady or another, many times. I always refused them,” He shrugs, as if any of this can be easily dismissed, as if it doesn’t matter. An act, a mask of carelessness, but you notice the tension in his frame, the way his free arm is moving as if he’s fidgeting, hand opening and closing in nervous movements. “They refused to let me marry you, so I refused to marry anyone. 

“I-I didn’t…I didn’t know.” 

“You never asked.” 

“Why?” You ask, because you might have never asked before, but you have to ask now. 

“I didn’t think it would change anything, I just…I couldn’t imagine it, a-a future beside anyone but you.” 

Your chest pulls tight, and it is once again that overwhelming feeling of the night before, when he admitted to having asked for your hand before you left for Dragonstone. That feeling of flying on dragon back and falling, and landing harshly, and nearly missing a cliff. 

And the words, the accusation, to him or to yourself, you aren’t sure, rush past your lips,  

“You didn’t think of saying any of this sooner? Send a letter, something?” 

“And say what, exactly?” Aegon retorts, “That I asked to marry you, for a-a way to keep you, and was refused as if I were nothing but a boy asking for the impossible? That while you were away, forgetting me, I was still-…that I couldn’t forget? That’s all there is to it, I couldn’t forget.” 

Your eyes flicker between his, and he doesn’t bother hiding an old anger, an older hurt, and they both shine so clearly in his gaze now. Your breath stutters past your lips before any words an attempt to. 

“It wasn’t-…” 

“I told you, I wasn’t expecting it to change anything. I knew-…I know it changes nothing.” 

“And yet we are less than an hour away from our betrothal being announced.” 

“Your doing, not mine.” He retorts without missing a beat, and your short laugh does make a smile almost curve at his lips. It shouldn’t make you proud, the sight shouldn’t make you feel this strange yet welcomed nervousness. 

“If those ladies aren’t scorned lovers of yours, why the unsubtle attempt at keeping me from their company?” You ask, but more than ever it feels as if you’re playing a part. It is a familiar strategy to you, keeping a conversation going while you try to get a hold of yourself again. For the first time since you were sent away, you doubt you can. 

“The court isn’t…fond of me. Ladies like them, anyone here really, they’ll say things about me, things that are…true, even if I don’t want them to be,” He admits. Now it is you who is left looking at him while Aegon intently looks ahead. “If I can, I’d like to speak first. I just…I don’t want this to change.” 

The world has changed, long ago, for you. When you were forced to open your eyes to the truth of your and your brothers’ parentages, when you were promised your very life was at risk if your mother’s claim was not secured, when you were ordered into the Chamber of the Painted Table and instructed on what your use would be going forward and sent off to tour Westeros. 

The world changed, irrevocably, devastatingly, long ago, and it is no longer the world where you followed Helaena and Dreamfyre into the skies or the world where Aegon managed to make you laugh until you cried. The world has changed. 

The world has changed, and yet in your mind only lingers the recent knowledge that he refused to marry unless it was you, that you dedicated all you are and more to forget the foolish promises you made and he so carelessly held on to them, chose to remember them. Remember you. 

The world has changed, and yet he still feels familiar, he still seems to you the man you once knew, who could not keep a secret to save his life, who drank wine like it was a medicine drought, who managed to care deeply and not care at all in the same breath. 

And perhaps that is why you speak so carelessly now, so honestly now, 

“It doesn’t have to.” 

Silence lingers, and you are desperate for a way to fill it, to purge from your mind the thoughts that race in your head and the pointless feelings bubbling in your chest at Aegon’s admission that he refused to marry anyone else after he was denied a chance to marry you. But once again you find yourself uncertain on how to go on, on how to play. 

If Aegon is to say anything at all, it is stopped by a call from the Kingsguard for all to return inside the Keep, as the King is to join you all soon. 

The Kingsguard that made the announcement -you recognize him, he is the one sworn to Queen Alicent- bows once, but remains there, expectant, demanding. 

You and Aegon share a look, reminiscent of both that look as he took you to fly on Sunfyre for the first time, and of that last look as you mounted Vermithor and set to fly away to Dragonstone. 

___ 

You barely hear your grandsire’s words, though you do notice the way his voice is stronger, his frame standing taller, than the nights before. He welcomes the Houses to the Keep, he talks about years of strife in the House of the Dragon being put to rest, he announces your marriage to his eldest son, and yet you can only think about what Aegon so recklessly revealed to you. About what it means, about how he felt, about how he remembers you, about how he feels.

A part of you reminds you that when Lady Mysaria pushed you to marry Alasdair Tyrell, you constructed a lie and sent him off to conquer the Shield Islands in your name, to prove to her that you needn’t marry while at peace. That part of you reminds you that your threat to feed to Vermithor whoever they tried marrying you off to wasn’t a lie, that you meant it with everything that was left in you. 

The King collapses back into his seat, and even at the sight of his frailty the crowds continue in their cheer. Lady Mysaria explained to you long ago about the weight a full belly will have on the opinions of both noble and commoner, and how Viserys’ reign is but proof of that very fact. It is the reason she wanted you to marry a Tyrell, to secure the Reach, the most fertile region of the Realm. 

“I am no longer a young man, and it is no news to anyone that the years have weighed on me,” He admits, voice still somehow carrying in the cavernous room. A pale, bruised hand reaches for your mother’s, and he squeezes her hand in his before adding, “It will be Princess Rhaenyra, my daughter and heir, who will preside over the festivities to come in my stead.” 

The intention behind putting your mother, and not his wife or his Hand, as the one to act in his stead during the days to come is not lost on you, the support he once again reinstates over your mother and her claim impossible to ignore. 

You venture a glance at the Queen, and though you will admit she is not a bad player, she does not easily hide her emotions as well as other ladies of the court do. Yet now, neither surprise nor offense sour her expression, and you could swear there’s calm in the deep breath that rises and drops her shoulders. 

“I’ll endeavor to live up to your example, father.” 

“I shall hope these celebrations are only the beginning of a new age of joy and prosperity for us all,” He says, smile wide and kind. He turns to you and Aegon, and you stare back with wide eyes, because in your head resonates like a war drum, I couldn’t forget. “And I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you both.” 

___ 

The Grand Maester sent word that the King would not be well enough to join you all at the dinner to welcome your family to the Keep, and though you truly wanted to ask what was the point of such dinner if your grandsire -the only one to wish for such a reunion- was not to be in attendance, you bit your tongue and let the handmaidens ready you for it. 

It is a striking difference, that of tonight and your first night here. Where before everyone was stiffly held to their seats by the presence of the King alone, now you walk into the room and find small clusters of people talking and joking with one another. It is a tad cruel, that the one so intent on uniting them has done nothing but create further division. 

Though, the division remains. Alicent and her father sit by one another and speak in hushed whispers, while your mother stands by the other end of the table with Rhaena and Princess Rhaenys. The rest are equally divided, with your father and Baela standing by a corner and observing them all carefully, your brothers sitting together and speaking with Vaemond and Corlys, and Alicent’s children standing together on the other end of the table. 

But at least now they look like people. Dreadful people, who make it horribly hard to tolerate them, much less love them, but people. Not figurines, as unmovable and as easily cracked as Viserys’ marble ones. 

At the errant thought that lingers on your grandsire’s model of Old Valyria, you find yourself eyeing the table, and you find, unsurprisingly, a napkin folded into the shape of a dragon. 

It seems you were the last to arrive, as they all move to sit now. You let the servants guide you to the middle of the long table, sitting you right in front of your mother and Queen Alicent.  

Baela takes the seat at your right, and you are grateful, for you are certain she knows as well as you that you will be sitting across from two women at war. 

Jacaerys approaches your left side, but Aegon is faster, and when your brother pulls back the chair, your betrothed sits on it before he can. 

Aegon turns to your brother with a mocking smile, and lifts his cup in a mock toast. 

“Thank you, nephew.” 

The taunt is childish, but it is enough to irritate Jace regardless. He shares a look with Baela, and moves to sit beside Aegon, while Helaena takes the last seat of this side of the table, sitting between Jace and Aemond, who sits at the head of the table. 

You watch as your mother and Alicent engage in yet another verbal battle, speaking in the language only those who once loved one another can speak; keeping you all a captive audience. 

She shouldn’t have come here, so far from the wedding. It was a mistake to come here, not to mention bringing Daemon and your brothers with her. 

Lucerys eyes the roasted pig brought to the table and then looks at Aemond with cruel mirth shining in his dark eyes. Thankfully your grandsire, the Sea Snake, has the good sense to smack him on the back of his head and snap him out of any foolish ideas about taunting your uncle before you see yourself in need to do the same. 

You are starting to think no one in this family has been capable of an intelligent choice or has formulated a coherent plan since your mother had you flee King’s Landing and left her father’s court to the Hightowers. And for the first time, you are glad you were sent away for those two years instead of being made to stay and try and manage this madness as Jace has been forced to do, the eldest in your absence. 

“I defy my own father’s counsel in permitting this union, Rhaenyra. Do not confuse my faults with those of the men of my blood, or I will extend the same courtesy to you.” 

Dark eyes flicker to Daemon, who answers to her implication with a mocking little giggle, leaning back on his chair and crossing his hands over his stomach. 

“It is not your father’s faults that make me wary, Your Grace,” Your mother argues, the title a reminder, and it is only then that you notice Alicent referred to her by her name. She continues, “But the cruelty and injustice you imposed on my children, for years on end.” 

Alicent’s brow furrows, eyes wide with the frenzied affront of that night in Driftmark. 

“You dare speak of cruelty, when your savage sons took Aemond’s eye?” 

“I do wish they would give me some credit. I did land a few good hits on him.” Baela, sitting by your side, mutters, quiet enough that only you hear. Still, you move your foot under the table and stomp on hers in reprimand.  

She answers with a little laugh that is entirely a mirror of her father’s, and you hiss a command for her to be quiet, but she grabs your hand in hers and, with laughter still clinging to her tone, issues quietly the High Valyrian for be calm, lykirī. 

Unaware of the small exchange between you and Baela, unaware, it seems, to the entire world beyond one another, your mother and Alicent go on in their argument, in their battle of words and of silences only themselves understand. 

Your mother’s smile is a lie, a mockery, as she shakes her head, dismissing, or perhaps refusing, whatever it is the Queen has said. Rhaenyra lifts the cup to her lips and takes a slow sip of wine, putting the cup down and only then speaking again, voice calm and yet cold. 

“You do not trust me, or my family. I understand this. It is why you wouldn’t marry Helaena to Jacaerys when I proposed it,” She turns to her oldest friend then, and a part of you wishes to berate her, to hide her then, because in your mother’s gaze there’s too much truth revealed. “Can you blame me for holding the same reservations as you did, now that I must entrust my daughter, my only daughter, to your care?” 

Alicent answers with the faintest shake of her head, as if the mere idea of what your mother fear is unthinkable. She adjusts her posture, unmoving again. Though not in the way a stone statue is unmoving, but in the way thin ice is.  

“A mother’s sins are not her daughter’s.” 

Whatever it is your mother is to answer with, if anything at all, is interrupted by Daemon’s laughter, cold and mocking. 

“How easily you change your tune, now that the noose tightens around your neck.”  

Alicent’s expression sours in disgust at the mere sound of Daemon’s voice, and she refuses to entertain his accusation with a response. Her eyes, warm and sad, linger on your mother for a few breaths, before she abandons the fight and straightens in her seat. 

Your mother shouldn’t have come here, not when she longs for peace yet the man at her side dreams of bloodied hands placing a crown upon her brow; not when her sons and Alicent’s long for violence and chaos as young men are allowed to; not when all she has done, all any of them have done, is pull you in warring directions, demanding and demanding and demanding. 

You down the last of your wine, resting your empty cup on the table and drumming your nails restlessly on the glass. 

Leaning closer to Laena’s oldest who sits at your left, you gesture with your chin at an open window. 

“If I were to fling myself from that window, you gather Vermithor is fast enough to catch me before I reach the ground?” You ask Baela, who hides a smile behind her cup as she lifts it to take a sip from her wine. 

Your jest with your sister is interrupted as someone leans closer to you. You turn to watch as Aegon, sitting beside you and pitcher of wine in hand, refills your cup. 

“No, but Sunfyre might be,” He answers, as if it were him you asked that question to. At your look, he shrugs, though a smile plays at his lips. “Just say the word.” 

Stupidly, more carelessly than you should allow yourself, you find yourself smiling back as you watch him lean back in his chair. 

Your smile falls when you turn to see the expectant face of your half-sister, who stares with wide eyes and raised brows. Baela demands an explanation without even parting her lips, and you merely shrug in response. 

Uncomfortable silence falls upon you all once again as your mother’s and Alicent’s quarrel comes to an end for now. You lean closer to Baela again and whisper, 

“What does it say of me, that I am considering the offer?” 

“I know not what it says about you, but it says quite a lot about this horrid evening.” 

You lean back in your seat, eyeing the people in the room, forced together by the wishes and fantasies of a dying man, bound together more so by the shared wounds that the shared love or blood. 

“First of many.” 

“Could I convince you to marry Aegon in the ways of our House and save us all from this circus?” Baela prompts. Dark eyes divert over your shoulder, and apparently deeming it safe enough, she adds, quieter, “Or to kill him? Either way, I can gift you the dragonglass for the deed.” 

She draws a short laugh from you. 

“It concerns me that you have come armed.” 

Your half-sister turns to you, a truly affronted look in her eyes, and whispers, “It concerns me that you haven’t. If I am to leave you here, I would do so knowing you have the means to protect yourself.” 

You shrug, “I have Vermithor.” 

“He doesn’t fit in a dining room.” 

“And I need no protection when breaking bread, cousin.” 

Baela’s smile makes her eyes narrow, and she clinks her glass against yours as she advices,  

“You should ease on the wine. Usually you can lie better than that.” 

“Shouldn’t you be tormenting my brother about trade in Spicetown? Or about those dignitaries from Asshai you mentioned?” You ask with a tired sigh, but still a slow smile curves at your own lips. 

“Shouldn’t you be walking about, charming hosts and guests alike? Almost two years of one diplomatic visit after another, I doubt you spent them like this.” 

“There was something I wanted from those Lords and Ladies. All I want from our family is an uneventful evening.” 

She scoffs, “You’ll sooner bring The Cannibal to heel.” 

The tension between your mother and Alicent seems to lessen, or at the very least become more manageable, as the dinner goes on. The room is filled with the murmur of ongoing conversations, and you are enjoying some pastry with what tastes like candied figs within it when Baela leans closer again and talks by your ear. 

“Speaking of tormenting your brother,” Baela motions with her chin towards your left side. “I gather he’s much better at it than I.” 

You turn to follow her gaze, and find Aegon leaning closer to your brother, who sits straight, frame coiled with tension. Aegon mutters something only your brother can hear, gesturing with his hand, elbow resting on the table. 

“You will hold your tongue when speaking of my sister, or I will cut it off.” Jace threatens, but it seems to fall flat, for Aegon doesn’t even move away, and the sly smile on his lips only grows. 

“I’ll still have my fingers,” Aegon replies with a shrug that only makes your brother further enraged. “Not to mention my c-…” 

“Please stop talking.” Helaena interrupts, nose furrowed in disgust. 

To your surprise, Otto Hightower laughs at his granddaughter’s words, with more warmth you ever believed him capable off. You don’t think you ever remember hearing him laugh before. 

Your disbelief only grows when the Lord Hand move his chair slightly closer to his daughter’s to make room for Helaena to sit beside him and opposite of Aegon and Jace, an offer the Princess takes without a moment of hesitation. 

Jace keeps his eyes on the table before him, both hands on the table and curled into fists, “Cease playing the jester, Aegon. All here know that the mere idea that a man like you is to wed my sister is enough of a joke.” 

“Jace.” Your mother attempts, but you doubt even she believes her attempt at chastising your brother. 

“Our family has wed us to one another for generations. To keep our bloodline pure,” Prince Aemond points out, eye sharp as it focuses on your brother. “I don’t expect you to understand, nephew, but-…” 

“What is it you are implying?” 

“Hm,” He muses, gaze piercing, calculating. “I mean only to point out that you and your sister weren’t married, as Baelon and Alyssa, as Jaehaerys and Alysanne were. It is quite apparent to me why, is it not to you?”

Jace moves to stand, and Aemond refuses to let the challenge go unanswered, returning the cup to the table to welcome your brother’s advance with empty hands.  

Looking across the table at your father, you silently beg him to interfere, but Daemon is entirely too preoccupied with Aemond, assessing him as who looks at a cyvasse table to plan their next move. 

“Speak these falsehoods at your peril, uncle.” 

“What falsehoods, hm?” He taunts, his cruelty sharp and honed like a sword, “We are family, both by bonds of blood and of marriage now. Isn’t it time we stop pretending?” 

A chair screeches against the wooden floor as Luke moves to stand as well, to defend himself as well, to answer to insult with violence. With a moment of hesitation with trepidation widening her dark eyes, Rhaena stands as well. 

“Sit.” Baela hisses the command, and to your surprise both of them obey without question. You’ve seen soldiers follow orders slower. 

It is only when he sits back down that you notice Aegon too was moving to stand, no doubt to defend his brother. You look at him with raised brows, and he answers to your unspoken question as to why he obeyed your Baela’s command with a gesture of his hands as if to say what else he is supposed to do. 

Amidst the tension and the madness, you find yourself resisting the urge to laugh, and shake your head, looking away from him. You notice the smile on his lips, though, even as he too turns his attention back to Baela. 

With one last glance spared at Rhaena and Luke, it is then that Baela turns her attention to Aemond. 

She has mastered the mocking and belittling look her father directs at his children whenever they defy him, and the slight smirk curving at her lips only manages to add insult to injury. 

Aemond shifts in his place, but refuses to give any ground. Instead of recognizing her challenge, her taunt, he turns his attention to your brother again. 

“Now your brother and stepsisters fight to defend you, nephew?” 

“It does your skill a disservice, My Prince, if you believe this a fight at all,” Baela retorts, the grace of her mother and the venom of her father. The way her eyes remain relentlessly trained on Aemond reminds you of a bird of prey on a hunt. “And a disservice to your family, if you mean to imply it is dishonorable that we defend our own.” 

A mocking little hm leaves Aemond’s lips, one-eyed gaze flickering between your brother and Baela. 

“You might wish to reconsider who you consider your own, My Lady,” He taunts. A breath, two, and then his sharp gaze turns to you, before he adds, “As your sister did.” 

“Excuse me?” You ask, but neither care for an argument about your true parentage, and to be honest, neither do you. It is only a few moments later that you understand the implication in his words, that you hear the certainty that your marriage to Aegon will earn them your loyalty. 

Baela scoffs, “You are more of an imbecile than I thought if you believe that.” 

“Baela!” Princess Rhaenys chastises, but she cares not for it. 

Aemond answers with mocking laugh that only enrages her further. 

The Queen reaches over the table and grasps for her son, fingers digging like claws into his arm as she hisses some words you do not hear. It seems he doesn’t either, for he shakes off his mother’s grip and turns to face your half-sister. 

“I see you do not deny it your shared blood with the Princess. Good for you, My Lady,” Aemond’s gaze turns from Baela to your brother, and a cruel twist of his lips aids the venom to drip from his words, “My dear nephew here could stand to learn to be prouder of his family.” 

What feels like a dozen voices start speaking at once then, accusations and insults from both sides, the elder voices -the voices at fault for this madness, attempting to bring hounds to heel long after they’ve tasted blood- attempting in vain to speak over the chaos. 

And in that moment, you are five and ten once again, Luke’s nose has been broken and Aemond’s eye taken, the smell of blood lingers in the air and shrill little voices argue, shouting over one another; and the King calls for silence but they don’t listen, bloodthirsty little beasts, what is left of children after a lifetime of licking their inherited wounds.  

But it has been years since then, and the wounds are now their own, made by their own hands and adorning their own bodies, in some more evidently than in others. They remain, however, as bloodthirsty as before. 

A passing comment by Otto Hightower is enough to make Daemon’s fist hit the table, and the two engage one another, trading verbal blows with a practice older than any of their children; while Vaemond Velaryon’s reaction to Aemond’s accusations make Corlys chastise his brother, starting yet another argument. 

A low call of your name draws your attention from the chaos erupting on every corner of this room, and you turn to your left to find Aegon has stood from the table, and is offering a hand to you. 

“Huh?” Your eyes dart between his hand and his eyes. He smiles, expectant and daring. 

He motions with his head to a small door the servants have used to come and go, an invitation. 

You only realized you have made your choice, that you let your hand slip into the offered hold of is, when you are being pulled into standing, when you are fighting back laughter as amidst the chaos you let him guide you out of the room and into the servant halls that run through the Keep. 

Thank you for reading! I hope this was alright, and at least worth the wait!

Also, to make this shorter I had to cut the “reunion” between Reader and Rhaenyra and Jace. If you’d like to read that, drop an ask or something and I’ll post it.

Next Chapter >>

Taglist: @21-princess @mrs-starkgaryen @nymeriiiia @akari-rioan @dottie-witch

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Snuggles

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Steven can't sleep.

A/N: I'm being all sappy.

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, self-indulgent as HECK, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 610

Steven twisted around in the bed, the sheets wrapping around his left calf and ankle. He let out a humph of air and kicked himself free before he turned over again onto his other side and screwed his eyes shut. 

He gripped the pillow tight, his fingers paling under the force of it, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. 

Finally, the stabbing sensation in his molecules grew to a point where it became undeniable and at last his conscious mind seemed to register it. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” He sighed, opening his eyes and sitting up in bed. He rubbed his face with his hands, purposefully dragging the callus edges around his fingernails over his eyelids. 

It was useless. Pitiful even. 

He’d spent most of his life trying to avoid falling asleep, and now actually getting to sleep was practically impossible. 

It just wasn’t working. He was either too hot or too cold, the blankets too light and then too heavy. His arm went numb when he laid on his side, he felt like he was suffocating if he laid on his stomach and his shoulders ached if he tried to get comfortable on his back. 

Steven just couldn’t get to sleep without you next to him. 

He’d been so happy when you’d told him you were going out to spend some time with your friends to a late night cinema showing. He knew you didn’t get a lot of chances to see them all at once, as you had conflicting schedules. 

“Have a great time love!” He’d given you a kiss before you’d left, nuzzling your cheek.

You’d grinned, “Are you sure you don’t mind me coming back to yours after? It’ll be really late and I don’t want to wake you up-”

“Love,” he chuckled, reassuring you for what must have been the sixth time. “The flat’s closer and I sleep like a log, honestly. Besides, I’ll feel better waking up with you in the morning.”

He hadn’t realised that his body had decided to betray him and turn him into a liar. 

The sound of the key in the front door made him flinch, a brief flicker of panic overtaking before relief washed over him. 

You tiptoed in, illuminated by the glow of the hallway lights. 

Steven scrambled to the side and turned on the bedside lamp as you shut the door. 

It was your turn to jump. “Steven,” you smiled, “I thought you’d be asleep.”

He got up eagerly, putting on his slippers and padding over to you, “couldn’t sleep.” He gave you a soft shrug as he played with the sleeves of his pyjamas. “Missed you too much.” 

He hugged you gently, snuffling his face into your neck and breathing hard. 

“Awww,” you rubbed his back, quickly embracing him, “sweetheart.” You kissed his temple and Steven sighed happily. 

“Don’t reward me,” he mumbled into your skin. 

“What?” You laughed. 

Steven smiled as he moved back, just enough to look at you. “Don’t reward me, I’m being all pitiful and clingy.” He batted his eyes at you to make you laugh again. 

“You’re so silly.” You stroke his cheek and kiss him softly. “You’re not pitiful and clingy, you’re sweet and perfect.” 

He shook his head, pressing his face into your hand. 

You tut playfully, “Don’t deny it just because you want more praise.” 

He giggles and kisses your cheek. “Guess who’s been caught? Me.” 

You grin. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom and change you’re in bed with Steven, snuggled up tightly together in each other's embrace. Both of you safe and content. 

And asleep the second your heads hit the pillows. 

Thank you for reading!

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[storiesfromafan]

Jealousy Does Look Good On You - Benny x Reader

A/N: this was just me pulling something out of a hat, haha. Bit of writers block right now. But something is better then nothing.

Also, forgive me if this isn't that good. As well as, excuse my attempt at describing their kissing, its been a little haha.

Enjoy.

Tag list: @strayrockette

I wont look at him. I wont look at him. I wont look at him, you chanted over and over in your head. Determined to not pay Benny any mind. It's his choice if he wanted to entertain another woman across the room from you. It's not like you were together, nor his girl.

Your relationship with Benny was undefined, though you thought the striking Vandal was into you just as much as you were into him. But apparently it was just one sided; yours. And now he was showing another woman how to play pool. The very thing that led to you even speaking to Benny in the first place a month ago.

You had seen the raven haired vixen by the jukebox, eyeing up Benny for an hour before making her move. She had started talking to Wahoo and Corky, before Benny got roped in by the two men. From there – as you watched – she moved closer to Benny. Then she got touchy when they talked, laughing at jokes made. And then he was showing her how to play pool.

That was it. You had turned your back to the scene. Your heart not being able to take it any more. The beer you had been nursing, now your best friend. Kathy had been watching you, and the scene with Benny. Shaking her head she couldn’t believe how brazen the woman was, as well as Benny for going there.

“Forget him" Kathy said, shooting daggers at the pool table.

“I'm tryin'” you sighed. “I need another drink".

With that you got up and headed for the bar. Standing with your arms on the counter, you waited to be served. All the while hearing the obnoxious laugh of the raven hair woman. You rolled your eyes, wanting to gag at the sound. Finally you put in an order for two beers – you thought you’d be nice and get Kathy another beer – when an all to familiar body lent on the counter next to you.

Benny bumped his shoulder into yours. “Hi".

“Hi" you replied flatly, keeping your eyes straight. As you know one look at him and you'd be a goner, when you wanted to be mad.

Benny frowned, a confused look upon his face. “Everythin’ alright?”

You nodded your head. “Peachy" – your two beers were place before you, and you grabbed them – “you better go back to your new friend, she must be missin' your company".

And with that you walked off, leaving Benny even more confused then when he stepped up to the bar. Running his hand threw his hair, he was about to follow you, when Corky called him back to the pool table. With a moment of pause, Benny gave in and went back for a new game of pool. All the while trying to work out what was up with you.

“Here" you said placing a beer before Kathy, “thought I'd get ya one".

She thanked you, observing you after watching the icy exchange with Benny. Seeing the blank look upon your face, but eyes telling her how upset you were.

“What was that at the bar?” She asked, all motherly with you.

You sighed. “He came over and said hi. I replied back but I guess he could tell somethin's off, so he asked if everythin' alright”. You took a sip of your new beer.

“Your reply was?”

“Peachy...you better go back to your new friend, she must be missin' your company”. You took another, longer sip.

Kathy's eyes widened as she moved in her seat. “Was that smart?”

You shrugged. “Probably not. But felt good".

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah it usually does, until it wears off. Then ya feel like shit".

Again you nodded, taking a sip. “Yes, I know that. I'm feelin' it right now Kathy".

She patted you on the back. “I know. But do your best to not think about it. I doubt Benny is interested in her, I know he only has eyes for ya". She gave you a wink and a soft smile.

All you could do was give her a weak smile. God bless her for trying to cheer you up. But to be honest, you could understand why Benny would go for Raven locks. She was beautiful, dressed like she belonged here, and was confident. Everything you weren’t. You weren't an ugly duckling, but you weren't on her level. You were more of a young Doris Day, while she gave Marilyn Monroe.

After the exchange at the bar, Benny kept his distance. And that added to your despair. You really did shoot yourself in the foot. You stole looks from time to time. They looked comfortable standing next to each other. You even saw her rest her head on his shoulder with a giggle. But what put an end to the night for you was watching her wrap her arms around his neck in joy when she won a game of pool.

“I'm done" you informed Kathy gathering your cardigan and bag. “I can’t do it anymore. I'm headin' out”.

She frowned at you but understood. “Ya want to get a cab together?”

You shook your head. “Nuh, I'm good. I think a walk would be good. But thanks” you gave her a small smile. “Have a good night".

With that you moved through the bar, around various Vandals till you made it the main doors. The cool night air hit you, so you put on your cardigan, slinging your bag over your shoulder. With the briefest of a look in both directions, you crossed the road and began to head down the street. It would be a good twenty minute walk back to your place, if you walked at a decent pace. But with how you were feeling, a slow stroll would be your pace tonight.

Of course your mind thought about Benny, and how the night had gone. Usually when you came to the bar he would play a few rounds of pool before joining you and Kathy. He'd sit next to you, arm resting on the back of your chair. You both would share looks, you’d admire his beautiful blue eyes and killer smile. Or watch when he would smoke a cigarette. You'd watch him take a drag, hold it and admire how he would let the smoke out. As well as his hands, his fingers holding the cigarette so gently.

Other times you would lionize his arms. Noting his muscles and how they react to his movements. Or study the random tattoos that adorn those arms. But you'd always go back to Benny's face, taking in his stunning features. His strong jaw line that was covered in stubble. His cheek bones and full lips. And the messy blonde locks upon his head, just beginning to have a hand run threw them.

But here you were, walking home miserable and hearthaching. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Just until you got home, and were safely behind a close door to finally breakdown. For you knew you were partially to blame. You probably pissed Benny off with your words. Or he didn't care, and took your words as a pass at the other woman. Either way, it didn't help you.

Turning right down a street littered with shops, you made sure to stay in the light and away from any allays. You weren't going to take any chances of some creep grabbing you. Maybe it might have been smart to get a taxi after all.

The closing in sound of a motorbike caught your ears, but you didn't pay it any mind. Too focused on wallowing in self pity and getting home. Hearing it slow down, before stopping by the curb caused you to panic a little. Why would someone stop near you, when the street was empty. You decided to pick up the pace, clutching your bag.

It was when a large, calloused hand grabbed your arm, did you jump and make a scared sound. They held onto you tightly when you tried to pull away. Then they pulled you back around, and you were met with concerned baby blues looking at you.

“Hey, it's only me" Benny said in a calm voice.

Hearing his voice you relaxed a little, letting yourself take a few slow breaths to calm your racing heart.

“What are ya doin' walkin' home, let alone, at this time of night, doll?” Benny asked, letting go of your arm to place his hands on your shoulders.

You shrugged. “Seemed like a nice night for a walk?”

Benny gave you a sharp look, not buying your words. “Really, what's goin' on (Y/N)?”

“I told ya” you replied stepping out of Benny's grasp.

“I don't buy it. Tell me what's wrong”.

You sighed, “nothin' alright. I am fine, perfectly peachy”.

He groaned. “There’s that damned word again”.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What, peachy?” – Benny nodded – “it's a perfectly acceptable word".

He chuckled. “Yeah, you like to use it when you're upset. So what is it this time? Is it the woman at the bar?”

You stood there silent for a moment, processing your response. But from the lack of reply, Benny got his answer.

“No, not at all. You're free to spend your free time with whom ever ya like” was what you went with. Not a very strong reply, but its all you got.

Benny laughed loudly. “Jealously sure is a cute colour on you".

Your shot him a dark look, moving your hands to rest on your hips. “I am not jealous Benjamin Cross! Far from it!”

With that you turned on your heel and started to storm off, leaving Benny to laugh some more. But upon realising you were seriously annoyed, he took off after you. He tried to get to you to stop, even offered to give you a ride home. Which you refused.

“Come on, it's quicker and safer if I get ya home” Benny stated, following closely.

“I'm fine. I'd say its more worrisome to be with a Vandal” you retorted.

That hurt Benny. And it was a low blow, you know. But he irked you. So, your words were justified.

“Come on, please let me take ya home” Benny sighed, before he got a bad idea. “The quicker I get ya home safely, the quicker I can get back to the bar and that woman".

That was it. You stopped, before turning around in a flash. Anger and hurt shone in your eyes.

“If its that so important go back now! I said I am fine!” You said with a raised voice. “She seemed to like ya too, from how she was practically in ya arms or in ya lap! Don't mind me, I'm just stupid to think I stood a damn chance. But, like usual, I am-”

You didn’t get to finish your rant. For Benny – amused by your dummy spit – grabbed your arm and pulled you in, his lips silencing you with a kiss. He moved his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. You were in shock. Benny was kissing you. He kissed you to stop you from talking.

He pulled back, looking down at you from under his eyelashes. “Ya good?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. How does one speak after that? But your eyes told him that you were trying to wrap your head around what just happened. He saw shock, confusion and a small flicker of hope.

“What-why?” You sputtered out.

Benny chuckled, moving his hand so he could caress your jaw with his thumb. “Ain't it obvious? I kissed ya".

“W-why?!” You choked out.

Benny found this version of you amusing and adorable. “Because I wanted too, I’ve wanted to for weeks now. But I've been afraid too".

You looked into Benny's eyes, trying to work out why he would be afraid. So you asked that question. Waiting with baited breath for his answer.

“I was worried ya didn't like me, like I like ya, doll” he said softly. “But seein’ your reaction to Angela" – so that's the raven vixens name, you thought – “I got my answer; ya do".

You titled your head, giving him a sharp look. “Yeah, well...you could be wrong".

Benny chuckled, running his thumb down your lips. Letting it linger, pulling down your bottom lip. “Oh, I know I'm right. And if I was to kiss ya again, I know for a fact, you’ll kiss me back, doll".

“Ha. Try me” you retorted, a challenge.

With a small smirk, Benny moved in and captured your lips once. This kiss was harder. His hand holding your chin, as his tongue swept along your bottom lip. Without a thought, you opened your mouth, giving him victory. Benny's tongue entered, finding your tongue and caressed it with his own. He didn't waste time deepening this kiss, both of you had wanting this for so long.

Eventually Benny pulled back, you chasing his lips. He laughed at how kiss drunk you were. The way you opened your eyes and looked up at him, had him wanting to groan from how good that looked on you. He continued to caress your jaw with him thumb, as he rested his head against your forehead.

“I was right” he sighed. “Firstly, jealously does look good on you” – you softly scoffed – “And secondly, I was right ya would kiss me back”.

“Yeah, yeah...” you mumbled.

Benny pulled back with a chuckle. “Come on, let's get out of here".

With that you let Benny pull you to his bike. Once he was on and the bike was running, Benny helped you on to sit behind him. Settled in and your arms around his waist, be pulled away from the curb. No intention to take you home yet. For now, he wanted to spend time with his girl. Time he didn't get earlier.

[httpdwaekki]

soft raven | b.c.

summary: channie comes to visit you while you paint your nails, turning into you painting his nails.

wc: 2.4k

a/n: idk how i feel about this but i wrote it a while ago but channie's part to my nail painting series woo! also please pretend one of those nail polish bottles are black because i cannot for the life of me find a picture of black nail polish that isn’t on nails that matches the aesthetic LMAO. i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

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minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

(photos are not mine! credit to owners!)

you were sat at your desk, glasses slipping down your nose, headphones sat atop your head. you had one headphone pushed behind your ear as your monitor displayed a random adventure time episode. you had various nail polishes displayed in front of you, deciding which combo you wanted to do. 

unbeknownst to you, chan was leaning against the door frame, watching the internal debate play out as your eyes dart to each color. he had been in his office/studio working on a few tracks while you were keeping yourself entertained at your desk, playing games with felix, watching shows, etc.

 now you were having a creative war in your brain, trying to come up with unique color combinations and patterns. chan stayed there for a moment, heart swelling with love and overwhelming adoration. he watched as pick out different colors, tongue sticking out slightly as you examined the bottles carefully.

he pushes off the door frame, walking up to you, placing his arms on the back of your chair,. you felt movement behind you causing you to look at the culprit. you smile, pushing up your glasses, “hi bub.” turning your attention back to the small bottles filled with every color of the rainbow.

“what are you doing, bug?” he asks, leaning against your chair, glancing over your shoulder. “i’m trying to decide what color i wanna paint my nails.” you moved to lean back against your chair, causing the aussie boy behind you to shift, wrapping his arms around you.

you lean your head back, lips pursed, silently asking for a kiss. he smiles before placing a sweet kiss to your soft lips. you pull apart before looking forward, leaning your head against one of his arms wrapped around you. “ can i pick out your colors?” he asks, staring at the miscellaneous colorful bottles.

your cheeks warm, “you want to?” he nods, before releasing you, moving to grab your old chair in the corner of the room, pulling it up to your desk. you scoot over, giving him space to slide in next to you.

he becomes serious, analyzing each bottle individually, before grabbing two colors, a rich, inky black and a soft, light purple. you look at him with waiting eyes, he sat there looking at the colors for a moment before he looks over to you. his signature side smile, dimple on full display as he slides the two bottles to you.

“these two?” you ask, grabbing the bottles out of his hand. he nods, “can we try something?” you hum, prompting him to continue. “so i saw a video of a girl getting her nails done and she got her nails done one color and then painted her pinky black.” you nod, turning towards him. 

“and then she painted her boyfriends nails and she painted all of them black and then painted his pinky the color she painted her nails.” he finished shyly, looking down at the two bottles in your hand. “so you want to paint my nails with the purple and then my pinky black and then i’ll do the opposite for you?”

you watch as chan’s cheeks slightly reddened as he lightly nods. you giggle, placing your hand on his cheek. “that’s so cute baby, i’d love to do that with you.” you quickly kiss his cheek before letting out a happy squeal.

you shake your arms in excitement before turning back to your desk, you take off your head phones, placing them on your monitor. you quickly put all of the other colorful bottles away where they belong before grabbing all the things you need to prep his nails. you had already prepped yours since you were planning on painting them anyway. 

you look back over to the aussie boy next to you,` looking at you with pure adoration, falling more and more in love with you. “what?” you ask, looking at him with big eyes. he smiles, shaking his head, “nothing, what you got there?” he points to the various tools you set out.

you explain each one as you grab the nail polish remover and some cotton pads. “so the stick is gonna push back your cuticles and the clippers are gonna trim them before i use the nail polish remover to remove any oil on your nails.” he listened intently as you explained each item.

“okay so here’s the question, do you want to paint my nails or do you want me to do both?” you ask looking back to him. “maybe you do both this time and i’ll watch and then next time i’ll do your’s.” you nod before grabbing the towel you use specifically for doing your nails.

you lay the towel out in front of him before grabbing his hands and placing one on the fabric, keeping the other in your hand. “okay, i’m gonna clean your nails quick and then i’ll start painting.” he nods before looking at the screen in front of you, the cartoon still playing on the screen.

you notice this, placing his hand on your thigh before grabbing the headphones, “here.” you whisper, gently placing the headphones over his ears. he looks over at you with a pout. “what’s wrong bubba?” you ask, small smile making it’s way on your lips at his cute antics.

“now i can’t hear you.” he whined, his pout somehow bigger. you giggle before pushing back one of the speakers off his ear. “better?” you ask. he immediately smiles before turning his attention back to the animated jake and finn in front of you. you smile to yourself as start pushing back his cuticle.

“if it hurts please let me know, i don’t want to hurt you okay?” you look up to him, catching the slight nod as he was already engrossed in the show. you smile at your boyfriend before going back to work.

you push each cuticle back with care and precision before placing his hand on the towel before grabbing the other, repeating the process. you place his second hand back on the towel before grabbing the first and the clippers.  “try to stay still okay? i don’t wanna cut you.” he looks over after hearing your serious tone.

he smiles, giving you a firm nod before turning back to the screen. you slowly make your way around each finger, mindful not to get anywhere close to his skin. you finish the first hand once again moving to the second before repeating the process once again.

you put his hand back onto the desk, before grabbing the base coat, shaking the bottle. the movement caught chan’s attention, “oh what’s that? base coat?” he asks, looking at the bottle of clear polish in your hands. you nod your head, humming and you unscrew the brush from the bottle.

you place the bottle on the desk before putting your hand out, waiting for him to place his in yours. he gives you his hand, returning his attention to the screen, fully engrossed in the animations.

you paint each nail with precision, tongue poking out in concentration. after you finish the first hand, you place it back on the towel before tapping his other hand causing him to move the  second one towards you, eyes glued to the screen. you can’t help but look at him with pure adoration, the way he looks captivated by the show while fully trusting you to do whatever you want to his nails.

your cheeks warm before you grab his hand, painting each nail with the clear polish. you placed his hand back down, screw the brush back into place, turning your attention to the screen as you wait for his nails to dry. luckily you refuse to watch anything without subtitles so you were able to follow along easily.

you lay your head on his shoulder, placing an arm on his thigh, drawing random shapes on the soft skin. you feel him place a long loving kiss on your head before laying his on this same spot. you both stay like that for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence.

after a few minutes you gently tap his thigh, signaling him to move. he let out a small whine before moving, looking at you with a pout. “don’t give me that look, mister.” you scold him playfully. “you’re the one that asked me to paint your nails.” he mimics you before huffing, turning back to the screen.

“hey.” you whine, catching his attention. once he turned to you, it was your turn to pout, his eyes softened immediately “that was mean.” your frown deepens, jokingly crossing your arms. “oh baby, i’m sorry.” he coos, attempting to apologize. you turn your head the other way, nose up, egging him on.

“my bug, please.” he begs, you can only assume his puppy dog eyes are on full display. when you don’t react he brings out the big guns. he scoots his chair impossibly closer to you while pulling you closer to him. “sweetheart, please.” he begs, grabbing your arm, entwining your fingers before bringing your hand to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to the back of it.

you look over at him, actively fighting the smile attempting to make its way onto your face. “come on sweetheart, you know i was just playing.” he says, his voice dripping with sweetness. you can feel your face getting warm as you cave. “that’s not fair.” you grumble, pulling your hand away, causing him to pull back, scooting away slightly.

“what’s not fair, sweetheart?” he asks, feigning innocence. you glare at him. “you know what, don’t play coy.” you accuse, scooting your chair back into the desk. you glance over catching the sly smirk gracing his lips, fully aware of the effect that pet name has on you.

you roll your eyes, small smile on your lips as you grab the bottle filled with the dark polish. you shake it quickly as chan settles next to you, placing his hands back on the towel. you unscrew the brush, placing it on the desk and take one of his hands before painting each nail.

taking even more time than you did with the previous clear coat. taking extra care to make sure each nail is coated perfectly with no streaks and nothing on the surrounding skin. after painting the first four with the darker shade before grabbing the lighter, lavender shade, painting his pinky with the same caution.

after finishing the first coat you repeat the same careful process with his other hand. your tongue starts poking out as your concentration increases, fully committed to the task at hand. so committed you didn’t realize chan had abandoned watching the nostalgic cartoon to watch you meticulously paint each nail with care.

you continue to repeat the process for a second coat, ensuring the color would but rich and vibrant. it’s only when you finish painting his second pinky purple that you notice his stare. you lay his hand back on the towel before looking over to him, realizing he’d been staring at you, causing you to do a double take.

“what?” you ask, pushing up your glasses that were slipping down your nose, tilting your head to the side. his cheeks redden slightly, before smiling and shaking his head. “nothing.” he looks down at his nails, his smile getting impossibly bigger. “it looks so good bug, thank you.” you smile.

“i’m glad you like them.” you say before grabbing the top coat giving it a shake. “alright i’m gonna give that a few minutes to dry then i’ll put on the top coat. and then once that’s dry you’ll be all set.” he nods, turning his attention back to the cartoon.

you place the clear bottle on your desk before scooting slightly closer to him and the desk. you relax back in your chair, placing your arm on his back, hand landing in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. he lets out a hum of satisfaction, leaning his head back into your hand like a cat.

a few minutes pass and you decide it’s time to apply the top coat. you sit up, taking your hand out of his hair, shaking the bottle once more. you hear a whine coming from beside you. “what’s wrong?” you ask, looking over him.

he pouts before letting out a yawn. “i was almost asleep.” he say through the yawn. “well let me finish this quick then we can go lay down okay?” he nods, before yawning once more. you made quick work of coating each nail with the clear polish. “ alright sleepy head, you’re all done.” you screw the top back on, gathering all your tools and paints, putting them away neatly.

“what about your nails?” he asks through a yawn once more. “i’ll do them tomorrow, right now i think it’s time for bed.” you say, taking the headphones off his head, running your hand through his soft hair. he gives you an understanding hum, before closing his eyes.

you place your headphones in their respective place before closing all your tabs and shutting off the colorful pc. you stand up, chan following closely behind. “just be mindful of your nails okay? the top coat is still wet.” you warn helping him up before pushing the chair back to the corner. he comes up behind you, placing his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder before following you out of the room.

you flip the light off as you walk out, making your way to your shared bedroom. you switch on your bedside lamp before you round the bed to your sleepy boy’s side, giving his arm a tap, signaling him to let go. once he lets go, you move the blankets, giving him space to lay down. 

he sits down, moving to get under the covers with your help. “careful bubba.” you remind him, as he settles into the soft mattress. he lifts his hands as you move the blanket to cover him. you round the bed sliding under the blankets before putting adventure time on the tv and turning off the light.

chan opens his arms for you to lay in, burrowing into his chest, getting comfy. “i love you, sweetheart.” he mumbled, kissing your head before letting out another yawn. “i love you too, channie.” you say, placing a kiss above his heart as his breathing evens out, taking him into dreamland as you follow slowly behind him.

do not repost

[spookie-bitch]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Mischief*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Demon!Reader Contains: 🤷‍♀️ TW: None I can think of, lmk if there is any Word count:716 An: my requests are open :)

You tossed your bag down by your bed and sat down, "Why in the world does principal Weems think it's a good idea to give me another roommate," you think angrily, "It won't end any different than the last few and she knows it!" Nonetheless you still had taken the time out of your day to clear out half of the room to accommodate for them, even though they won't be there for longer than two weeks. Weems always said it was because I was just more than they were used too, but I think we both know that the're actually scared, everyone is. Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. "That's strange," you thought looking at your watch,"the're not supposed to be here for another hour." You make your way over to the door, opening it to be met my principal Weem's smiling face. "Your early," you say dryly. "Just wanted to check in before they arrive," she says, "But by the looks of it you've already got everything under control," she says in a proud tone, surveying the room. You say nothing, hoping that your silence would imply that you were already done with the conversation. "I know what your probably thinking," she says, " but I believe that you and this girl will become the best of friends." You sigh, slightly annoyed with the conversation, "That's what you said about the other ones too," you remind her. She frowns, "Look y/n, I want you to try your best with this one," she says in a more serious tone, "I usually don't ask that much of you in these situations, so I ask that you just to your best." "Fine," you reply bitterly. She seems satisfied with your answer, "well then, I'll be on my way then," she says turning to leave. "No promises," you yell, closing the door before she has the chance to respond. You sit back down on your bed and put your headphones on, frustrated and annoyed, you tail flicking back and forth viciously as a sign of your annoyance. After a while, their is another knock on the door and you groan, pausing the music coming from your headphones and opening the door. "Wednesday, this is y/n," Weems said giving you her usual smile. "Oh it has horns dear," remarks a tall, pale, woman with long, raven hair. "I am not an it," you growl, your tail wrapping around your legs definitely, causing Weems to look a bit nervous. The girl who you assume is Wednesday gives you a slow look up and down, her expression remaining cold and emotionless. After a few moments of awkward silence, principle Weems breaks the silence, "well why don't we go and get Wednesday's schedule and after Ms. Y/n can give her a tour of the school." Nobody objects to the idea and they turn to leave, but before Weems closes the door she gives you a look that tells you not to do anything stupid while showing the girl around. After a bit, only the girl returned to the room, you had been sitting on your bed listening to music while waiting. "I believe you're supposed to show me around this prison," stated Wednesday, surveying you again. You look back at the pigtailed girl, guy up off the bed and walk towards the door, clearly agitated. "Someone's in a mood," Wednesday comments, following you. Once you finish showing her around, you plop back down on your bed and begin to draw, praying that you will be left alone. Lucky, Wednesday minds her own business and stays on her side of the room doing God knows what when a thought pops into your mind. "Wednesday sure is a weird name," you blirt out almost to quickly, instantly regretting it as all motion in the room stopps. "So I've been told," replies Wednesday. "As far as names go, it's not the most traditional. But that's fine by me, I'm not exactly the most traditional person." "What's your deal anyway, you've barely said a word since you got here and you've just been silently judging everyone," you add, intrigued by the girls unnatural behavior.

"I find social interaction tiresome and pointless," she replies dryly. "Of course you do."

[babysukiii]

fallingforyou (1)

lottie x fem!reader enemies to lovers au <3

// lottie matthew’s does not like you. you’re annoying, preppy, and way too nice. lottie doesn’t fail to show you time after time just how much she hates you. you finally get the message and steer clear of her, until senior year, when you both get paired up for a science project. //

i’ll never make it right (if you don’t want me ‘round)

you don’t really know why lottie matthews hates you, but she does. she has since freshman year, and up until senior year, nothing changes. lottie isn’t known for being a mean person… in fact, she’s actually very nice. but for some reason, she just hates you. you don’t really know what you did, or why she treats you like you’re absolute garbage… but she does. you aren’t really the type to beg or try to make someone like you, especially someone popular and rich like charlotte isobel matthews.

you’ve never really been popular at all. your best friend is natalie mary scatorccio, and you’re mostly friends with the ‘nerds’ and ‘dorks’. you’re even friends with a few theater kids. everyone at school knows who you are, but you aren’t really interested in your social status. in fact, sometimes in lottie’s opinion it was almost like you didn’t care at all. you walked around so carefree and unapologetically yourself… lottie for some reason hated that. she hated that while she had to take her meds, and act like someone she’s not; you get to be whoever the hell you want.

today though, everyone around lottie matthews was feeling her wrath. it wasn’t unusual for lottie to be catty, or snappy when someone deserved it, but today it seemed as if the yellowjackets sweeper was angry at everyone and everything. you were steering clear of her since this morning and natalie noticed the way you had been avoiding her as well. it wasn’t unlike you to try and avoid lottie; she was unnecessarily mean and always had a sardonic response to whatever you had to say, but you never avoided natalie.

“jesus christ, what the fuck is wrong with you today, matthews?” mari asks in frustration after falling right on her ass. lottie had just knocked her out of the way in order to get the ball during practice. mari was currently glaring up at lottie from the grass she had landed on. “get your head in the game, and maybe this wouldn’t be a problem.” lottie responds in a way that everyone recognizes. she’s clearly in a mood and it causes the girls to exchange looks of uncertainty. coach scott blows his whistle as soon as mari stands up.

“alright, that’s enough practice for today. everyone get changed and go home.” he dismisses the girls who all sigh in a bit of relief. as everyone begins to get off the field, tai makes her way up to natalie; jackie not too far behind. “hey, what’s wrong with lot?” tai asks in a whisper, as they all rush into the locker room. “she’s just being an ass because ms. weinstein paired her up with y/n for a chemistry project.” natalie says, and mari groans. “what does that have to do with us??” the raven haired girl complains.

“why can’t she just ask ms. weinstein for a new partner?” jackie asks and natalie smirks, “y/n already tried. i think that’s why lottie’s pissed.” natalie states, and jackie throws her head back and lets out a laugh. “oh wow, that’s a new one. y/n wanting to switch partners? she’s gonna get lottie an easy ‘A’ and lottie’s being a di—“ jackie cuts herself off as soon as lottie begins to walk up to them; a scowl etched onto her face. “you assholes do realize that my locker is right on the other side of yours right? i can hear everything.” the taller girl points out.

you used to always try to talk to her. you’d smile at her, and compliment her outfits. yet she’d always scowl at you or have a clear expression of annoyance, and say something harsh. she noticed you stopped smiling at her in the middle of junior year. this year, you’ve barely even spared her a glance. lottie didn’t even think you realized you were both in ms. weinstein’s class together, but apparently you did. “you’re not the only person who’s unhappy about who you got paired up with. it’s just a few weeks. try not to be such a cunt about it.” natalie says seriously, and lottie rolls her eyes in response.

“i can’t help it if she’s insufferable.” the taller girl mumbles under her breath, causing mari to shake her head and make a face. “she’s insufferable?” mari asks sarcastically as she finishes getting dressed. “i think y/n is nice. she let me copy off all her notes in trig last month.” shauna shrugs as she brushes her in the mirror inside of her locker. “yeah, she remembered my dog had surgery during the summer and she brought me a bag of treats for him when the year started.” akilah pipes up, causing lottie to scoff.

“okay, so she remembered a few things you said, and she let you cheat off her work. who cares? she’s still annoying.” lottie states before swinging her duffle bag over her shoulder and walking out. natalie shakes her head, slamming her locker shut. “i swear if she so much as makes y/n shed a single tear, i’m kicking her ass.” natalie says in a tone so serious, nobody dares question it. though, most of the girls knew how sensitive you were; everyone did. it was only a matter of time before lottie actually did hurt your feelings.

the next day at school, you and lottie have yet to discuss anything about the project. you two haven’t even decided on a topic, and you’ve never been unprepared for a school assignment before. but right now, your pride was too important to you. you didn’t want to be the bigger person and cordially talk to lottie. you’ve tried that; you’ve done nothing but try and be polite or nice. yet all of your efforts have been rewarded with rude comments or bratty behavior. so you were done trying.

“okay i want you all to get into your pairs and talk about the project you should’ve gotten started on yesterday.” ms. weinstein announces, causing you to nearly sink into your chair. you can feel a pair of dark eyes on you, and you look over in lottie’s direction to see her already staring at you. as if she’s waiting for you to make the first move. you internally sigh, realizing that you’re probably going to have to be the bigger person again.

finally, you get up and hesitantly make your way over to the empty seat beside lottie. “hi.” you greet her a bit quietly, and she nods, “hey.” she retorts in a low, uncaring manner. you take a breath, “maybe we could do a study of saponification reactions. it’s just an option, i honestly don’t care what topic we do.” you admit and she nods, thankfully not saying anything rude yet. “we can do that. i don’t care either.” her voice is curt and the answers are short. you nod slowly as you open your notebook to the next blank page, and label it.

lottie notices you use a blue color pen to label it, and then a black one to take actual notes with. you have a whole bunch of colored pens in different colors for your notes, and how prim and proper your writing was seemed to irk her too. then her eyes seem to dance up to your face; the way your brows creased together in slight concentration. your hair was a bit frizzy during this time of day because school was almost over, and lottie could smell your overwhelmingly girly perfume. it smells like vanilla.

“did you want to work on this at your place or mine?” you wonder out loud, the pen never leaving the paper. “yours.” lottie answers way too quickly, but thankfully you don’t say anything about it. you nod, “okay. here’s my address and the number to my landline in my room.” you say as you turn to a new page, and write your phone number and home address down. you tear the page out when your done, and hand it to lottie who says nothing as she takes it.

lottie pauses for a moment, thinking about how much she hates her house. she wonders if maybe you hate yours too. “we could work in the library if you don’t want to work at your place.” the noirette actually sounds considerate as she says this, and you look surprised for just a second, before offering this shy smile that she hadn’t seen directed at her for nearly a year and half now. “it’s okay! i don’t mind working at my place. my little sister practices the violin after school sometimes… but she’ll be quiet if i ask.” you assure her and lottie only nods in response.

“anything else you wanna warn me about?” she inquires a bit sarcastically, and you nod. “my older sister is kind of a bitch.” you say bluntly, taking lottie by surprise. she’s never once heard you curse. at all. you can’t help but laugh lightly at her reaction, “she’s not that bad though…” you trail off before the bell rings, and you immediately start putting your things into your backpack. “wait, when did you wanna start?” lottie questions, and you shrug. “whenever your free after school just come over.” you assure her and she furrows her brows as she stands up.

“but your debate club—” she starts and you cut her off, “i quit last month. i’ll see you later!” you rush out of the room before lottie can say another word. she huffs; this was going to be a horrid few weeks.

[vioartemis]

Friends? (Part 2)

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: Your friendship with Wednesday takes another turn after one of your night visits doesn't go as planned. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 Warnings: erm blood, werewolf attack (not described) a/n: I guess a part 3 is going to be written (I wanted to try something longer but woah maybe it's a little too long) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

After that night, Wednesday and you started texting, mostly exchanging about poisonous plants and outcasts. Her texts were well written, good punctuation, good grammar… Really in her style.

The average person would probably not particularly appreciate the way she texts -and talks- but you knew she wasn’t just that. You knew she wasn’t just the cold goth girl without a heart everyone seemed to believe she was.

You loved her personality and enjoyed her company.

Hence why you spent most of your nights in her and Enid’s dorm, or sometimes in the Nightshade’s library when no one else was there. The books they had in there were just amazing. You spent hours reading them, utterly fascinated, with Wednesday sat at the opposite side of the room.

Despite all her efforts, the raven couldn’t seem to be able to concentrate on her own reading; her eyes were glued on you. She had never seen someone so passionate while reading.

The way you were biting your lip when reading, feeling the pages under your thumb, turning the pages carefully not to tear them…

Even though she had said she only tolerated your presence, Enid could see she was looking forward to your visits. The blonde knew her roommate liked you more than she wanted to admit.

One night Wednesday even took you to the greenhouse to show you some of the plants you told her you would love to see.

For the first time since she met Enid, she really enjoyed spending time with someone. You were interesting. Not glued to a phone 24/7, not hating on others because they’re different.

You were a normie, but an outcast amongst the normies. In a sense you were just like her.

This night was another night out for you. You were on your bike, on your way to Nevermore.

Wednesday was waiting for you in her dorm. She had something she wanted to show you, which she was sure you would like.

She turned to her roommate’s side, about to ask her something, only to find her side empty. The raven frowned.

“Thing, where’s Enid?”

Thing tapped on the desk.

The raven’s eyes widened slightly.

Wednesday rushed to her phone. She forgot the full moon. And even if the werewolves were supposed to be locked away during this night, but accidents happen -already happened before.

For the first time since she gave you her number, she called you. No answer. She tried again. Still nothing.

She swore under her breath, and tried again.

“Wednesday?”

“You have to go home.”

“What? Why? I didn’t even get to see y-”

“Y/n. Listen to me. It’s the full moon, it’s not safe.”

“I’m already under your balcony! I just can’t go bac- Wait, aren’t the werewolves supposed to be locked up?”

“Sometimes the cages break. I’m serious, Y/n. You have to-”

She could hear a growl on your side, and heavy breathing.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

She burst out of her dorm and ran to Yoko’s, hoping to find Divina or Bianca there. She banged on the door, still on the phone with you.

She heard you swear, then a noise she couldn’t identify, and the call ended.

“Wednesday-”

“Y/n’s in danger. I need your help. … Please.”

The three girls knew it wasn’t very Wednesday like to plead; the situation must be serious.

Wednesday explained the situation to the girls while they were going down to where you were. The raven hopped they wouldn’t find you. It would mean you were safe.

Sadly, a few meters away from the gate, an inanimate form drew her attention.

You were laying on the grass, blood all over you.

The raven was frozen in place. It reminded her of when she brought Enid to the Gate’s house the year prior. It reminded her when Eugene got attacked in the woods while she was at the Rave’N.

She was responsible. If you died she would be responsible. You would never get to finish your studies on outcasts. You would never get to experiment with Aconitum, or Nightshade, or every other plant you wanted to experiment on. Because of her.

“Wednesday!”

Bianca was holding her by her shoulders.

“She’s alive. But we have to do something quickly.”

The girls carried you to the botanical class. They didn’t have enough time to drive you to the hospital, they had to use what they had.

Bianca and Wednesday were looking through all the plants around them, trying to find the right ones to use, while Yoko and Divina stayed by your side, trying to stop the bleeding.

After what felt like an eternity to the raven, they finally found something that could work.

“Are you sure-”

“No. But that’s all that we have” Bianca said

They prepared the plants, so they had a liquid, before taking a nearby syringe. Once everything was ready, they went back to you.

“Do you want to do it?” the siren asked the raven

She didn’t answer, and just took the syringe. She took a deep breath, noticing her hands were slightly shaking, before injecting you the liquid. She looked at you, eyes full of worry.

It wasn’t 100% sure to work. But it had to. You just couldn’t die like that.

A minute passed. Nothing happened.

Wednesday took your hand in hers, holding it tightly.

“If you die, I will kill you.”

The other girls looked at each other, concerned.

“Wednesday…”

“No. She’s going to wake up. We just have to wait.”

She didn’t really know if she was trying to convince them, or herself.

You were part of her life now, she was used to talking to you every day, to seeing you almost every night… She couldn’t lose you. She liked you.

“Guys”

Wednesday’s eyes moved from your face to your wounds as Yoko pointed toward them. Your cuts were healing! The blood was like absorbed back by your body, leaving deep cuts and coagulated blood. You would have scars, but you were alive.

She let go of your hand to wipe some tears she hadn’t noticed had rolled down her cheeks.

“I’ll stitch her back up. … Thank you.”

The other girls gave the raven a little smile, relieved you were okay, and knowing how much it had cost Wednesday to ask for their help.

Thanks to the girls’ help, Wednesday could bring you back to her dorm and lay you on her bed.

While she was stitching you up, she couldn’t help but take a closer look at your wounds; she didn’t know exactly how the plants they used worked, but she was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to make the blood coagulate so fast. Maybe a sort of mutation happened.

Her pale hands were still tainted with your blood when you opened your eyes. You groaned as you tried to sit up, catching Wednesday’s attention.

“What are you doing?” she asked while she forced you to lay down as gently as she could “You’re hurt. Don’t move.”

She grabbed a bottle of pills and a glass of water, and brought them to you.

“Take that, it’s painkillers.”

You nodded and took the medicine with her help.

“… I’m sorry”

“What? Why?” you asked, surprised by her sudden apology

“I put you in danger, I’m sorry.”

She had learnt from her mistakes -from her fight with Enid after they got attacked at the Gate’s house. Even if she would never admit it, she didn’t want to lose you.

“It’s not your fault, I should have listened when you told me to go home…”

“… You shouldn’t stay close to me. All I ever do is destroy everything.”

You sat up, ignoring the pain, and grabbed her hand.

“That’s not true. Like I said, it’s not your fault. And I’m alive!” you looked directly in her dark eyes “I’m not leaving you. I like you. Maybe even a little more than I should…” your grip on her hand loosened a bit “Anyways, my point is I don’t want to stop spending time with you”

She felt her cheeks heat up a little at your words and at the look in your eyes. With Enid, you were the only one you ever fought to stay with her even though she pushed you away. Even though she put you in danger.

She liked you a lot, but it scared her; she wasn’t familiar with this feeling. Her only experience with love was what she saw with her parents -which she had always found disgusting. But maybe, maybe, with you it wouldn’t be disgusting. If you liked her back.

Because you said you liked her ‘more than you should’, but what did that mean exactly? It could mean a lot of things. And Wednesday didn’t feel like just asking you, it would be awkward.

But if you liked her back and she didn’t do anything there was a chance you’d fall in love with someone else, believing she didn’t like you. She did like you. And the thought of anyone else having you made her crazy.

You were still holding her hand. Your warmth was comforting.

She decided it was time to make a move and intertwined her fingers with yours.

Her action surprised you, to say the least. Your gaze was fixated on your linked hands, processing what just happened. After a second, you felt your cheeks burn.

“D-do you um… Do you want to go out with me someday…? Like for a coffee, or go to the library or anything else you’d like” you asked hesitantly

“Are you suggesting a date?”

Your cheeks heat up again at her words.

“Y-yeah… I mean if you want…”

Wednesday stayed silent for a second before cracking a little smile.

“I’ll pick you up at 4 tomorrow”

[Previous part] || [Next part]

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Nakime (mentioned), Kagaya Ubuyashiki (mentioned), Shinobu (mentioned), Kanae (mentioned) Enmu, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

Warnings: nsfw, murder, traumatic events from a child perspective, death, violence, gore, loss of parents, implied adoption, implied stalking, oral sex (reader receiving).

Plot: Talking with his seventh in command, Muzan reminisced about his past, about you and how you had always been his greatest weakness. While a particular Slayer is searching for you, Muzan bent his knee to you and showed you a side of him you, deep down, hoped to see. He cared about you a little more than he allowed you to know, apparently, and you once again feel lost into this crazy whirlwind of contrasting emotions.

PART 1| PART 2| PART 3| PART 4| PART 5| PART 6| PART 7

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

MEMORIES.

"What do we know about her?" Muzan asked, lighting up a cigarette as he stared at the photograph of the purple-eyed slayer who had dared to put your life in danger. She was no different from the other ones they had taken down throughout the years: a prick destined to fall by his hand, a girl whose name was going to be forgotten by the world, once she had exhaled her last breath. Who was she again? A slayer.

Who were The Slayers?

The Slayers, right, a pack of mangy dogs without a life purpose who spent their time trying to get his head, young people wasting their youth to serve that man. Every single time The Moons captured one of the swordsmen, they all said the same thing: "Muzan Kibutsuji is a monster, he deserves to die".

He was not offended. He pitied them, instead. How could they be so blind to see that Ubuyashiki Kagaya, and his father before him, asked them to stain their hands in blood, to commit the same crimes he, the devil himself, the infamous Muzan Kibutsuji, had been accused of? The thing was they surely fought for opposite ideals, but when the sun set, they were the same.

Why? Because two people pointing a gun, pulling the trigger, washing the blood of their victim away from their faces, were always going to be murderers. It did not matter why they did it, or how they dealt with their conscience, they were killers.

Now, looking at that girl, he wanted nothing more than tearing her apart limb from limb, for she had had the audacity of putting your life in danger. You, the girl he was going to marry, the one who had touched some strings of his heart no one had ever found, the good omen in his life. There was only one thing he was absolutely certain about: he would have always protect you.

Even if it meant dying for you.

"Her name is Shinobu Kocho, Master. – the seventh in command cooed – Her code name is Belladonna. Apparently, she is best known for poisoning her victims" he singsonged, drawing another photograph from his folder and sliding it down Muzan's desk.

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes at the girl portrayed in it. She seemed a few years older than the other Slayer, but she had some physical traits in common with her. Were they perhaps related in some way? He had a feeling he had seen her face before. Those twinkling, kind, pink eyes felt familiar.

"She is the reason why Balladonna attacked Douma and Miss. L/N yesterday—" the Moon continued, only to be cut off by Muzan.

His plum red eyes blazed in a sinister glint, until they almost seemed to have darkened for his evident irritation "Mrs. Kibutsuji, Enmu" he deadpanned, watching the way his subordinate prostrated himself in front of him, his dark bob swinging around his heart-shaped visage.

"I beg your pardon, Master! – Enmu pleaded him, his turquoise eyes transfixed on the polished black derby shoes of the raven-haired man in front of him – I did not mean to offend you and your lovely fiancé" he apologetically cried out, not daring to flick his gaze up to face his cantankerous boss. He knew how cruel Muzan could be, he knew he would have not stopped when blood spilled, or a bone broke. They were nothing more than toys for him. Oncr they were broken, he threw them away without hesitation.

Muzan scoffed, reaching his hand out to put off the cigarette on the silver ashtray "Spit it out then. You are wasting my time, Enmu Tamio. – he stated, grasping the photo and turning it towards the terrified boy – Who is this other girl?".

The seventh in command gulped down forcefully, eyes landing on the the girl's smiling face in the photo, as he nodded his head absent-mindedly "Her name was Kanae Kocho. She was Belladonna's older sister. Douma kidnapped, tortured and killed her in hope she would have revealed her colleagues's identities. She did not say anything, except that her sister would have come for our heads sooner or later. – he explained, a tear rolling down his right cheek – I was there too. I recorded everything".

It was only then, when Enmu mentioned the fact that she had been killed by Douma, that he remembered her. Peony, she was Peony. He had specifically given the order to murder her, after they had reported the news of her being a Slayer and wandering around a certain area of the city: your neighborhood. Her shifts dangerously coincided with your homecomings from the restaurant where you worked.

He could not let you two interact. Not after he had found you again after all those years. You were his greatest weakness, his remorse. His humanity. The idea of having killed you too that night, under the pouring rain, had tormented him for years. He would have never forgotten your big doe eyes filled with tears. You had not changed. The terrorized look you had whenever you were scared was the same you had shot in his direction in the middle of the night, when you screamed out your father's name as his dead body slumped down on the muddy ground.

Your eyes had haunted him for years.

When he saw you all those years later, jogging down the sidewalk, he knew you were not just a random girl. He did not imagine it was you, though. The kid whose life he had crashed the night he officially succeded his father and swore to take the lead of the Country. He had to see you again, he had to know who you were, you had to be his to protect and keep by side forever.

When Douma had showed him the first picture of you he had taken, he immediately focused on your eyes. It was you then. It was the kid he had to kill. It was Y/N L/N.

It was Y/N Ubuyashiki, the sin staining Kagaya's name.

And it was yesterday, when you stared at him in horror, fearing for your life, that he understood that he could not keep the eye-contact with you. He could not keep up with you, he could not see you staring at him as if he was a monster, like you had said that night. Therefore, he had blindfolded you.

If only you knew how deeply he cared about you. He cursed the fate day and night for having made him fall for you, his enemy's daughter. He was going mad. You were a black diamond, enticing him with your attitude and beauty.

You, how dare you to make him fall for you with every minute you spent together?

Muzan scowled, his plum red eyes darting on the display of his phone on his desk. You had apparently texted him a few minutes ago, but he was too busy reminiscing about the past to hear the sound of the nitification.

"Leave" he flatly said, grabbing his phone and turning his back at the knelt man in front of him to make him plainly clear that his presence was no longer required.

Enmu flinched at the sound of his voice and hastily stood up, bolting for the door with his heart thrumming into his chest. A coward, that was how Muzan saw him. A talented hypnotist, indeed, but a rabbit running into his burrow as soon as danger flinged around the room.

Once he was alone, Muzan sat on his armchair and unlocked his screen to read your message. He expected you to thank him for the bank transfer, or asking him more about the plans for the night. What he did not expect was a picture of Nakime, staring blankly at the camera, and your comments below.

YOU: Hi, Muzzie! Care to explain what the fuck she's doing here? :)

YOU: Also, thanks for the gifts and the money but, honestly, I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some privacy back. If I am not mistaken, the fourth clause of the contract specifically grants a car for me to use. Where is it?

Muzan smirked. You were really as smart as he thought you were. But he loved playing with you to test your nerves.

MUZAN: Earn it, love.

You did not take a long time to reply and he found himself smiling at the display once again, eager to read what you had to say.

YOU: How? Do I have to kill for you? Whose head do you crave to use as a footrest?

He would have never ever let you be a monster. You were an angel, a pure soul. He killed in your name, but he would have never ever asked of you to take someone's life for him. You were his pride and joy. Therefore, before going back to work on his pc, he typed a simple reply.

MUZAN: That's romantic, love. But I'm fine. Just get on all four tonight, it will suffice.

♚

Cheeks beet red, nails digging onto the palms of your hands, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was no way in the world you were going to wear that thing for him. You liked some good lingerie, but that was definitely too much. You felt naked, the silky black choker around your neck was making you feel like a courtesan. The suspenders, the lace thong and the bra were doing numbers on you.

What did he have in store for you? After all, he had promised you that you would have talked about his bodyguards, about him and about The Slayers.

If he thought you were just going to moan his name all night long, he was wrong. Grabbing your phone, you called him. You were not going to wear these slutty undergarments to pamper his ego. Reaching one hand behind your back to unclasp the bra, you kept your phone pressed to yout ear with the other and patiently waited for Muzan to pick up the phone.

"I guess you've found my gift, haven't you?" his hoarse voice finally pierced your ears after the third ring, earning a sight from you.

"Yes, I have, and I'm not going to wear this shit. I don't care if it's a 'Victoria's secret' limited collection. I still have my dignity" you complied, struggling to get the with the item off of you. As long as you hated it, you perfectly knew that it was expensive and you did not want to ruin it out of irritation.

You heard Muzan humming "It's not something supposed to stay on for a long time, love. – he reasoned, as you finally discarded the bra back onto the box huffing and puffing – What are you doing, anyway?" he curiously asked, making you roll your eyes at his comment.

"Nothing inappropriate, don't worry. I'm just going to take a shower" you replied, settling the phone on the bed and selecting the loudspeaker as you proceeded in slipping your fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear to drag them down your thighs.

However, the call ended with a click but Muzan's voice sounded too close to you "I'm just in time, then" he cooed from the threshold, making an high-pitched scream leave your lips, arms reaching up to cover your exposed chest from his vicious eyes immediately. Zero privacy, as per usual.

You blushed and took a few steps back, your eyes daggers on the man stripping off of his jacket "Hands down, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen before" he promptly remarked, turning towards the door and locking it.

"You're a pervert" you spat, averting your eyes from him.

Muzan quirked his eyebrow up, loosening the knot of his tie and throwing it on the floor carelessly, his fingers then working on the buttons of his shirt "I haven't showed you all my kinks yet, love. Don't be so rude. I'm much worse than that" he jested, irking you.

You exhaled through your nostrils and stormed to the bathroom, in hope to lock the door and leave him behind, but Muzan had understood your poor strategy and, before you could reach your destination, he had his hands around your waist. You yelped, your naked back pressed against his firm abs sent shivers down your spine, but the way the way his hands cupped your breasts, replacing your shaking ones, was something else.

"Can we try to get along? – he whispered in your ear, planting a kiss below your jaw – I don't like it, when you're mad at me" he hotly said, resting his chin on the top of your shoulder.

"If you stopped being a jerk, I would stop being a brat" you retorted, trying to resist his charm.

"What do I have to do to make you like me?" Muzan asked, a smug smirk gracing his lips as he rested his hands down your hips and spun you around to face him. Now, staring deep into his eyes, it was hard saying no. It was hard denying him what he was asking of you.

You batted your eyes close for a second, your fingertips grazing the outline of his abs "Show me that you like me too" you said breathless, almost regretting it. Why did you ask him such a thing? He oughted you no devotion, or romantic commitment after all.

You did not expect him to take you seriously. You did not expect him to grasp your chin and capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss again. Yet, when his tongue slipped into your mouth and he softly helped you to lay down on the bed behind you, there was something that made you feel like he was truly trying to convince you of something, of proving his intentions and feelings.

When his lips parted from yours, his hand slipping down underneath your panties, he locked his eyes with yours "Has anyone ever gone down on you?" he asked in a whisper, making your breath hitch in your throat.

No. The answer was no, naturally. You had gone down on someone a few times, but no one had ever done it for you. Not even your ex, Sanemi.

"N-No" you murmured, turning your face to the side in embarrassment.

Muzan cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking the area above your cheekbone lovingly "May I have the honor to be your first once again?" he asked you, watching the way your eyes widened slightly and how you nodded your head at him. He had asked for your consent. Not that you never had given him it, but it was hot, it was intimate.

"You don't have to, you know?" you told him, watching how he worked on the suspenders and dragged every last piece of item you were wearing down your legs.

Muzan's hands ran up and down your thighs, parting them gently, as he laid his body flatly on the mattress. His hot breath fanned your heat and you bit your lower lip in anticipation, as he placed a soft kiss on your clitoris.

"I want to" he simply said, before he ran his tongue down your slit.

You jolted, sparks of electricity pervading your body as he started lapping up at your arousal with swirls of his expert tongue. How many times had he done it? Probably, too many to count. Yet, you were aloof from knowing that you were the only woman he was enjoying going down to, the only one he had offered his skills to without feeling any kind of pressure.

Why? Because it was you and you were different for him.

His pace was torturously slow, his mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it, flicking his tongue around it, made whimpers and soft moans fall from your lips as your hands gripped the bedsheets at your sides tightly.

Arching your back, you glanced down at him. Muzan met your gaze, his red eyes pinning you on the spot as he gave you a look of your juices running down his chin, glistening under the artificial light of the chandelier. You blushed and he grinned, grasping your legs and settling them over his shoulders.

"You taste heavenly" he purred against your pussy, before sticking his tongue deep into your clenching hole.

You squirmed, hands flying up to your face to shield yourself from his attentive eyes. You felt ashamed for fhe lewd faces you were making. Did you really miss that much? Or was it just Mr. Kibutsuji talent?

"Muzan—" you whined, tears peeking at the angle of your eyes as your partner's grip on your hips intensified. You felt the a familiar pressure coiling into your lower abdomen and the idea of releasing on Muzan's tongue made you both thrilled and bashful. What if he did not like it? What if he did not want you to cum?

But, actually, the way he stimulated every right spot of your clitoris, the way he held your body close to his face, was a clear sign that he aspired to. He groaned against your entrance, your legs squeezing his head as you ended up climaxing on his sinful tongue.

He lapped away your essence and you trembled under the overstimulation, your chest raising and falling erratically as you stared at the ceiling in haze. What had just happened? Why did he let you enjoy yourself that much? Why did he satisfy your fantasies, if you should have been the one doing it?

You lifted yourself up on your elbows, glancing up at the dark-haired man unbuckling his belt at the end of the bed. The prominent tent in his pants looked uncomfortable and you blushed, crawling towards him with the most grateful and kind expression on your face that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. You could not look that cute and beautiful at the same time.

"T-Thank you... – you whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear – Can I help you take care of..." you trailed off, darting your eyes away from the bulge in his boxers, threatening to nudge at your nose. You had not realised how close to it you were, until you had flicked your gaze up to meet his intense gaze.

Muzan chuckled, his calloused hand ruffling your hair jokingly "You don't have to thank me. – he said, his eyes darkening all of a sudden – But you can follow me into the shower. I feel like if I fucked you right now the way I had planned, you would seriously need me to carry you around for a week" he hoarsely commented, making your heart drop into your stomach.

What was wrong with him?

♚

In the meanwhile, maroon eyes studied your empty house. It seemed like you had not been home for a few days. Everything was perfectly tidy, but the majority of your clothes were gone from the drawers, from your wardrobe. Your books were no where to be seen and the fridge was empty.

The tall man sighed, entering your bedroom in search for any clue of where you had gone. Little did he know where you were, but when Kagaya had called him last night to ask for his help again, he had refused to believe it.

You, the sweet and innocent girl he had rescued that night, were now siding with a monster? How did he convince you to follow him? How could you possibly love him?

Yet, when he spotted a white shirt with a reddish stain on its sleeve, he grasped it. Inhaling the dull track of scent still impregnating the fabric, he cussed. Reality finally dawned to him at the smell of the wine ruining the snow-white shirt. It was a Chianti. He knew exactly who loved sipping glasses of Chianti.

Muzan Kibutsuji had taken you away and Yoriichi Tsugikuni was going to bring you back home.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! I am honored to finally introduce the knight in the shiny armor: Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Now, Muzan and oral sex are something else for me. Y/N is a lucky pal, although her past is … ehm, a little crazy, you know? And there’s so much more to know about it muhahah. I love angsty shit, don’t I?

Anyway, let me know what you think about the chapter and thank you so much for reading this fan fiction 😭❤️

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhasslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013

[thehollowwriter]

CONGRATULATIONS 4 400+ FOLLOWERS OSNFLSMDLMAODNS LEMME KISS U & HUG U ♡(> ਊ <)♡

EKhem, i wanna join the event if u don't mind ehe, "Their Behavior Around You Vs Other People" w/ Leona (IM A SUCKER 4 HIM HELP KWNFOMEODNSOFNWKN) (♡ω♡ ) ~♪

ONCE AGAIN CONGRATS & U DESERVE IT KSNFLMSLFMSLFNKD (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

Simp ahem anyways sorry for the extremy late response and sorry if it's ooc

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

You

•Leona Kingscholar was a name well recognised all over the world. The second Prince of the Afterglow Savanna, the dorm leader of Night Raven College's Savanaclaw, captain of the Magishift club and so much more.

•However in the eyes of those who knew him, he was an arrogant and lazy prince spoiled by his upbringing.

•Easily irritated and not one put up with bullshit, he couldn't care less of what they had to say, of course. They only thought they knew him.

•People as a whole always pissed him off and made him feel exhausted. He doesn't like them one bit. Too loud. Too... judgemental.

•But it wasn't quite the same among his dorm and clubmates. There, as the one in charge, he was viewed as an intelligent and quick witted leader who looked out for his own.

•He was viewed in a light of utmost and respect and adoration. It felt good, he wouldn't lie, to be seen in such a positive way.

•Around others, he was cold and dismissive, aggressive and rude. Hostile.

•You, lucky little bugger, get a different side of Leona

•Leona cares deeply for you and what you have to say, even if he doesn't show it in the typical way.

•Please, tell him about your day, your ideas, your passions, your favourite things.

•Whatever it is, he'll hang on to every word and store it in a mental compartment just for you.

•Even if he looks like he's sleeping, he's got one ear pricked to hear what what have to say.

•Leona holds your opinions in high regards. Even if it isn't all that necessary, he will ask for your input on just about anything.

•His love for you is like that of a lion's, raw and possessive. But he knows there's no need to act on such feelings, his trust in you is unfaltering.

•Leona is yours and you are Leona's. To him, there is no force on this earth that will change that.

......................................

A/N: Sorry for the shortness, I hope you all enjoyed. I never really write Leona, but I try my best

[another-lost-mc]

Blasphemy

When you pray to him, it's not forgiveness you're asking for.

MICHAEL x gn!Reader 1.8k words | NSFW | Obsession | Sexual Themes Content Warnings: Obsessive thoughts, invasion of privacy, suggestive themes and some sexual content. A/N: Read the sequel here.

It starts when Simeon gives you the lost Ring of Light.

You think it’s a dream at first, the blinding golden-white light that overwhelms your senses. Suddenly a man’s voice, clear as if he was at your side, speaks to you and offers his blessing and good luck. The demon brothers panic later about seeing light from the Celestial Realm spill from your room, and you freeze when you realize the person you spoke to must’ve been Michael himself.

You tell yourself it’s simple curiosity that motivates you to learn more about him. The very mention of Michael’s name brings up so many varied, intense reactions depending on who you talk to. You speak to the angels first. Luke admires him wholeheartedly, but Simeon’s forced smile and carefully guarded answers to the questions you ask make you feel guilty.

It’s more complicated talking to the demons about him. Sometimes, they say his name with cloudy expressions and pursed lips like they just bit into something sour. Other times, they look far-away and try not to smile when they reminisce about events that happened long ago.

Mammon complains to you about Michael’s no-nonsense approach to work and discipline, and Asmodeus tells you some abstract memory about Michael while he paints your nails. He sounds nostalgic when he mentions all the ways Lucifer and Michael are similar, and the ways they’re also completely different.

Lucifer doesn’t talk about Michael very much, but he’ll usually answer your questions so long as they’re vague and not too prying. When he speaks about Michael, he wears the frown of someone that remembers hurting and being hurt by someone he loved, but it was so long ago the pain is a dull throb he can ignore.

No matter what the angels or demons tell you, you can't shake your interest in the archangel that is admired and feared in equal measure. Curiosity turns to fascination, and you feel some ravenous need to learn more. The things you’ve learned about him so far - the awe-inspiring feats, the high expectations he puts on those serving him, the cruel punishments for those who fail him - scare you and captivate you.

You spend more time with Luke who shares his memories of Michael so easily. It’s no wonder Luke enjoys baking so much - he tells you about Michael’s sweet tooth, the things Michael particularly likes to eat and drink the most, and Luke even offers to make some Celestial Realm desserts for you to try. When you eat them, you pretend it brings you closer to him, like you share something in common.

One day when you visit Luke at Purgatory Hall, he casually mentions getting a message from Michael and you nearly choke on your tea. He keeps talking about whatever task he’s been assigned, but your mind is racing. How did you not think of this sooner?

“I forgot my D.D.D. at the House of Lamentation, can I borrow yours?” The lie rolls off your tongue easily and Luke eagerly hands you his device without a second thought. When he runs off to the kitchen to check on lunch, you immediately pull up his chat history with Michael. You don’t have time to read everything properly, so you take as many screenshots of their conversations as you can, and you send them to yourself. When you’re finished, you close the chat app and head to the kitchen to help Luke.

Later that evening, you read and re-read the message history between Luke and Michael. You smile when you read about Luke’s versions of events in the Devildom, often skewed to make the demons look worse than they (usually) are. You’re touched by the way Michael seems to genuinely care for the young angel too. He responds to Luke’s messages with enthusiastic encouragement or gentle reminders to show his demon hosts grace and patience. 

Your eyes widen comically when you come across your name during one of their older conversations, and you feel your cheeks grow warm when you realize they were talking about you.

Luke: They’re so nice! They told me about some human world desserts that sound amazing. I’m going to ask them to teach me one day, if I can get the ingredients.

Michael: They sound like a wonderful friend to you.

Luke: I wish you could meet them!

Michael: Perhaps one day I will.

Those seemingly innocent words shouldn’t have this sort of impact on you. The logical part of your mind knows Michael is probably humoring Luke, grateful that he’s found a friend in the Devildom and happy to see that you’re a positive influence on him. The desperate part of your mind, the one that fixates on those words, reads them almost like a promise. One day you'll be able to see him in person, or perhaps even touch him if you’re brave enough. 

Their conversation lingers in your mind for the next several days, and you can't stop fantasizing about what meeting Michael might be like. The first meetings that you dream about skirt the line of innocent curiosity and unashamed blasphemy. One morning you wake up with your hand between your legs and the name of a faceless angel on your lips when you come. The memory of his voice rings in your ears and you still want more. You’re not sure what it says about you that you don’t feel ashamed at all.

You grow bored of re-reading the same juvenile conversations between Luke and Michael, and you turn your sights to accessing Simeon’s D.D.D. next. Simeon is older than Luke and you know his relationship with Michael is more complicated. You’re not sure if it’ll be as easy to get access to his phone, but fate is on your side.

The next time you visit Purgatory Hall, Simeon comes to see you and Luke in the kitchen. He looks a bit embarrassed and he’s scratching the back of his head while he holds his phone out to you.

“If you’re not busy, do you mind helping me with this?” he asks you a bit sheepishly.

You have to remind yourself not to be too eager when he hands over his device. “Of course! It’s not a problem at all. If you want to finish helping Luke, I can see what the problem is.”

You leave the two angels in the kitchen and retreat to the living room. The problem is obvious - the screen lighting is so dim it’s hard to read, and somehow Simeon changed the default language to some sort of demonic script neither of you understand. They’re both easy things to fix, and that leaves you with a few spare minutes to check his message history.

As you suspected, his conversations with Michael are more mature. They’re less focused on the daily sights that Luke is amazed by, focusing instead on Devildom life and politics. Michael is curious about Diavolo and his fallen brothers most of all. He asks pointed questions and makes subtle comments that seem purposeful if you read between the lines.

One of the more recent conversations he and Simeon had seems serious. You had no idea that Simeon stole the ring he gave you. It’s always difficult to read tone through words alone, but even you can decipher the undercurrent of disappointment and anger in Michael’s messages.

You understand now, with more clarity than ever, that Michael is intelligent, cunning, and should not be crossed. This realization should frighten you and put a quick end to your silly little crush. However, the temptation of forbidden fruit is too much for you to resist, and this knowledge fuels your fascination instead.

When you’re alone in bed at night, you give up all pretenses and surrender to lustful urges. Your thoughts of the mysterious archangel are steeped in lust. You remember the rumbling sound of his voice in your mind, and you can still feel the warmth of the Celestial Realm’s light. If he were to put his hands on you, would he feel that warm too?

It’s so easy to give into the fantasy that it’s his hands moving between your thighs while you touch yourself. You imagine returning to the Celestial Realm and finally meeting him in-person. You picture him towering over you, the embodiment of grace and power and absolute authority. You wonder what you might have to say or do to tempt him.

Thoughts of him - dark, depraved, delightfully sinful thoughts - are enough to push you over the edge while you stroke yourself beneath your sheets. You come once, then again not long after, riding the high of sin and corruption. You try to stop the whimpers and moans that threaten to spill from your lips. Breathy whispers that sound suspiciously like his name break the silence of your room, hushed secrets for your ears alone.

You’re still panting lightly, mind foggy from the pleasurable daze of your last orgasm, when your D.D.D. vibrates on the nightstand next to your bed. It’s an automatic response when you reach for it - with your clean hand, the one that isn’t saturated by the scent of your arousal - and mumble a quiet greeting when you answer. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the demon brothers got himself locked out of the house after partying all night.

“Did you think I would ignore your filthy prayers forever?” the smooth voice on the other line asks you.

Michael. You recognize who it is instantly and sit up in bed.

“Wait, how did you—?” you ask nervously, because how the hell did he get your number?

“You’re not the only one Luke trusts with his belongings,” Michael says knowingly, with a hint of amusement.

Oh no. Has he been watching you this whole time, waiting for your most vulnerable moment to surprise you like this? What does he know? What has he seen, or heard?

You’re completely unprepared for this conversation because he's rendered you speechless. Your mouth opens and closes uselessly while you try to think of something to say. What can you say? You’re excited and embarrassed, and your body warms up suddenly, like it’s on fire. 

He chuckles quietly, like he predicted this reaction from you. Your silence speaks volumes, and you realize you don’t need to say a word for him to understand you perfectly.

“Humans are such fascinating creatures,” Michael’s voice drawls, low and intimate in your ear.

You whimper and try to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise, but it's too late. He chuckles again and he sounds far too pleased with himself. "You were intriguing before, but not many are able to surprise me the way that you have. Perhaps you deserve a reward for your efforts.”

You can’t help but shudder from the lust simmering deep within your belly. Is he trying to sound seductive on purpose? You don’t know and it’s impossible to tell.

It seems like he can read your thoughts because he hums approvingly. “Yes, I think a proper meeting is in order, don’t you agree?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, and before you can attempt to speak again, the line goes dead.

[section-chief-prentiss]

Watercolors

Summary: Emily is pregnant and you decide to draw her. 

Word Count: 1288

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader

A/N: Minors DNI

Ao3

You were blocked. 

None of your art for the past few weeks had turned out the way you envisioned it, and it was driving you crazy. It was like your ideas were getting lost in translation between your brain and your paintbrush, and by the time your paints hit the canvas, you didn’t recognize the result at all. 

You groaned, slamming your paintbrush down, which sent a splatter of colors flying around you.

“How’s it going in here?” Your wife, Emily, leaned her head against the doorframe of your studio, a sympathetic expression on her face.

“It’s official,” you sighed. “I suck.” 

Emily chuckled, striding toward you. “You could never suck.”

Your wife was a vision, and it didn’t help your art block that all you wanted to do was look at her. Touch her. Pleasure her.

You’d never seen Emily in a dress before she became pregnant. But ever since she started showing, when she wasn’t in the office, she solely wore oversized t-shirts and flowy dresses, claiming it was the only thing that she was comfortable in.

Today, she wore a knee-length, white sundress with flutter sleeves. Her feet were bare—her ankles had started to swell a few months ago, and now she avoided wearing shoes whenever she could. Her black hair hung just above her shoulders—she’d cut it after finding out she was pregnant and had kept it short since, and her bangs were brushing against her eyelashes. You would need to cut them for her soon. 

Emily wrapped an arm under her bump, and you smiled. Your wife was seven months along with your daughter, and there was a permanent glow to her features, even when she was scowling in discomfort. 

You closed the gap between you, resting a paint-covered hand on her belly. Your daughter shifted beneath your wife’s skin in response.

“I’ll never get tired of that,” you mumbled.

“You try carrying her around 24/7 and see how you feel then,” Emily teased.

“Turn around,” you said, knowing just what she needed.

She assumed the position, her back leaning against you. You brushed a kiss on her neck, and she shuddered. 

Emily’s head leaned back, her raven hair spilling across your shoulder, and you interlaced your fingers beneath her belly.

When you were sure your grip was steady, you lifted up, relieving your wife of the pressure of carrying your daughter.

Your arms shook from the effort, but the little moan Emily let out each time you did this was all you needed. 

“I love you,” Emily sighed.

“I love you,” you said. 

When your arms couldn’t hold much longer, you gently returned the weight to your wife. When she turned to face you, there were multi-color handprints on her dress around her bump.

“I might’ve ruined your dress,” you said, blushing.

But your wife only shrugged. “I don’t know; I think it could use a little more color.”

You should’ve known your wife would be the key you needed to remedy your artist’s block. 

“Lay on that couch,” you said, nodding to the thrifted furniture on the other side of the room. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she said, making her way over and carefully swinging her legs up. She turned to face you, one arm on the armrest, the other wrapped around her bump. 

You knew you couldn’t ask her to hold that position for long, so you picked up your paintbrush and began painting furiously. 

Each brushstroke was like a careful caress of her skin. You captured her midnight hair against her ivory skin, the stark paint colors against her white dress, the way her stomach bulged. Her pink, rosy lips, her chocolate eyes—each color had to be just right. 

You took a step back to admire your work and couldn’t fight back the growing smile on your face. Finally you had painted what you’d pictured. 

“Can I see?” Emily asked shyly.

You turned the easel so the painting faced your wife, and her face lit up at the sight of it. 

“I can’t believe that’s me,” she marveled. “I look so much more… regal than I feel.”

You made your way across the room to join her on the couch, and she swung her legs down to make room for you. 

“You are a goddess,” you said, leaning in to kiss her.

Her touch was electric, and immediately, you were hungry for more. Emily laid back and you positioned yourself above her, planting kisses from her lips, to her neck, and down her bump. 

“Paint me,” Emily said. When you looked up at her, her eyes were hungry.

You giggled, placing another kiss on her belly. “I think I just did.”

“No,” she said, taking your paint-covered hand and running it across her skin, leaving a trail of pink and white in its wake. “Paint me.” 

A thrill ran through you. You hurried across the studio to grab the first paint cans you could find before rejoining your wife. You submerged one hand in pink and the other in white and got to work. 

You pressed your palms against her breasts, squeezing gently. Emily moaned with pleasure, and you slid one hand under her dress to feel her skin against yours. 

You ran your hands up her neck and to her cheeks, so you could press another passionate kiss against her lips. When you pulled away, she pouted, so you pressed a finger against her nose, leaving a circle of pink behind, which made her giggle. 

Emily pulled at her white dress, and as soon as you understood what she was doing, you helped her lift it over her head and toss it on the floor behind you. 

Her naked body was its own masterpiece. Stretch marks danced across her belly—something she was self-conscious about, but you could stare at forever, the perfect pattern they created against her skin. Her belly button popped out, and you ran your hands over her bump, taking in the smooth skin and your dancing daughter beneath it. 

Her breasts were peaked, and you palmed them once more, marveling how perfect her skin felt against yours.

You braced a knee between her legs, and your wife hungrily ground herself against it, already slick with anticipation. 

Your wife’s increased sex drive had been another perk of this pregnancy. You couldn’t get enough of her, either. 

Your mouth met hers once more as she searched for her pleasure. You were desperate to be more hands-on, but the wet paint posed its own issue, and you weren’t about to leave her to go wash it off.

She moved faster and faster, panting in between kisses, until she let out a shuddered moan and released. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you pulled back, leaving only your hand on her belly. You couldn’t sit this close to your wife and not touch her.

Emily’s cheeks were flushed, and she bit her lip, her bare chest rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath. 

“Wow,” she breathed. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this sooner.”

You threw your head back in a laugh. “Believe me, if I’d known painting you would have this result, I’d never leave the studio.”

Emily struggled to sit up, so you leaned forward to put an arm around her to help her up. 

“I think… we need to take this to the bedroom,” she said. “It’s your turn.”

You leapt to your feet, not needing to be told twice.

Over her shoulder, Emily glanced back at the paint and nodded to it. “Bring that.” 

You picked up the pink paint bucket, already shedding your clothes with your other hand. 

Emily Prentiss. Your soulmate. Your wife. Your muse.

Tag List:

@yena-reyna, @propertyofemilyprentiss, @chaekhan, @obsessedwjill, @mrs-prentiss, @i-lovefandom, @tireddeadgirl, @lez-talk1, @emilyprentiss-ily, @sxekhaos, @Confidant._.Thoughts, @ssablackbird 

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[bones4thecats]

S/O is Based on Oswald the Lucky Rabbit

Characters: Cater Diamond and Rook Hunt Inspired By: My infatuation with OG Disney characters A/N: This is shorter compared to other pieces of mine but I do hope you guys like it! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing, only fluff ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Cater Diamond ══════════════════════════╝

💎 When Cater first met you, he could see just how cheery and happy you were. You literally just looked at Riddle once when he was getting upset and your one joke made him chuckle and led to a whole fit of laughter

💎 Since you go to Royal Sword Academy and Cater goes to Night Raven College, you guys don't see each other as much as you would like, but you guys do try meeting up whenever you have free days

💎 He loves to post pictures of you. One day, he had got a headband with bunny ears on them to match yours. Your ears went from your hair color to a pitch black (vantablack) while Cater's fake ones were the same ginger tone as his real hair

💎 Whenever he does get photos of you that he likes (like this one as an example) he would most definitely post them with their own unique tag of #myluckybunny🐇💙. But, if he found any other photos that he preferred to keep private (like ones of you sleeping next to him) he most definitely wouldn't post them

💎 Cater is a more laid-back person when compared to your more adventurous and cunning self. You loved to grab him from his dorm during the weekends you had free and take him (after he packed) into the more forested areas or to the town to have some time exploring together. He takes a bunch of photographs and either does or doesn't post them based on both of your opinions

💎 Your boyfriend also loves to decorate your ears, from putting tiny earrings in your ears (if you had them pierced) to helping you with any kind of decorating (digital or not). I headcanon him as an amazing crafter to a certain degree, like he's good at bracelet making and making ornaments from time-to-time

💎 When one of you (most likely him) hits a rocky part and cannot keep up your happy-go-lucky personalities, you guys do comfort one another to the best of your abilities. Cater gets stressed but hides it well, so when he finally shows you his more downer side it shows you that he really trusts and loves you

💎 The first time Cater showed you his real personality, he just laid on the bed with his phone tossed onto his nearby table and plopped his head into his pillow. You just sat next to him, allowed him to curl up with his pillow in his chest while you ran your hands through his hair and massaged his scalp. You, for once in a blue moon, stopped being energetic and bouncy and opted to be a more calming presence for the down-male

💎 Cater does love your happiness in his life, there is no doubt in that. When you come over from your school to his and spend time with him, he can be himself without any fear of backlash, you are his anchor keeping him sane

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╚═════ Rook Hunt ═════════════════════════════╝

🏹 Rook and you get along no doubt

🏹 He is known for his eccentric and joyful personality, so when you came into his world and began to enlighten his world with just how creative you were with making up almost anything, he just connected with you so fast

🏹 You guys are known throughout Pomefiore and your schools as the 'scarily-happy ones'. Whenever you visit Night Raven, Rook is just seemingly less secretive about his stalkings observations. He'll literally sit there with you as he watches a random Savanaclaw student to study his behaviors

🏹 Your creativity is something that Rook praises immensely. And if you wanted, he would scream how much he loved your original ideas from the roof tops of both Royal Sword and Night Raven. He loves them that much

🏹 Vil enjoys you being around as well. You're a breath of fresh air with some things. Because of your steady hands (as you make a lot of things), he allows you to help, keyword: help, him with his makeup. One time he allowed you to do it all together and you made him look like he went to a face-painter

🏹 Anyways, back to Rook.

🏹 He does enjoy your extra appendages (i.e: ears and tiny tail) a lot. He loves just scratch them whenever you lay/sit next to him, and he does enjoy exploring with you

🏹 Rook has woken early to go see you and go out on walks either around your campuses or in the nearby town or even into the more wild areas around the Isle of Sages. He finds your love of exploring to be something amazing

🏹 He also likes to take photos of you, much like Cater. Except, Rook doesn't post them on his social medias. Rather, he'll keep them either in a folder he named '💖Mon lapin-lapin créatif💖'

🏹 You know how he has his wallpaper covering a small mural of photos on his wall in his room? Yeah... he has around maybe three or four albums of photos of just you. It's creepy yes, but it's also kinda endearing

🏹 He also has a frame with a photo of you both in the front, your rabbit ears being decorated in piercings (again if pierced, if not then clip-on ones) and a light amount of purple makeup by your eyes matching Rook's brown eyeliner. To sum it up, behind that photo of you is six others that he switches out when he wants to see a different one

(💖Mon lapin-lapin créatif💖 -> 💖My creative bunny-rabbit💖)