#thick stone vanity

[turkeynotalone]

3/4 Bath Hawaii Ideas for a mid-sized, modern bathroom remodel with 3/4-inch porcelain tile, a beige floor, flat-panel cabinets, light wood cabinets, white walls, a drop-in sink, and quartz countertops.

[isocertificationinabudhabi]

Traditional Bathroom

Bathroom - mid-sized traditional 3/4 white tile and marble tile porcelain tile and gray floor bathroom idea with beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, gray walls, an undermount sink and granite countertops

[vivarp]

Miami 3/4 Bath Small minimalist 3/4 concrete floor and multicolored floor bathroom photo with open cabinets, a wall-mount toilet, brown walls, an integrated sink, limestone countertops and multicolored countertops

[zerudaswonderland]

Powder Room Bathroom Milwaukee Powder room - mid-sized transitional dark wood floor and brown floor powder room idea with furniture-like cabinets, a two-piece toilet, blue walls, an undermount sink, marble countertops and white countertops

[spider-stark]

SWORN PROTECTOR

Criston Cole x Targaryen!Reader

Summary - After sneaking back into the Keep from a night spent out in the city, you find your sworn protector, Ser Criston Cole, waiting for you in your room.

Warnings - fem!reader, targtower!reader, not edited, reader has mommy/daddy issues, duty turned devotion type bullshit, criston can't just guard a woman without falling in love ig, yearning

Word Count - 2k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Soft footfalls echo in the narrow corridor of Maegor’s passages. You keep a palm cupped around the candle in your other hand, protecting the flame so it won’t gutter out. Secret doors are scattered throughout the corridor, each leading into bedchambers or solars or other forgotten passages. Having already left your brother, Aegon, at the secret door leading to his room, you keep count of your steps. 

One, two; seven, eight; thirteen, fourteen; twenty, twenty-one.

At just over twenty-five paces, the exact distance between his room and yours, you stop, turn to the left and blow your candle out, setting it on the ground for next time you go sneaking through to passages. 

Cold stone bites at your palms as you press them against the aged door. You cringe with every scrape and groan as you push it open. When there’s a gap just wide-enough, you turn sideways and shimmy inside. 

You’re greeted by warm light, candles flickering from all around your room, chasing the shadows of dusk into faraway corners. If you weren’t so preoccupied with heaving the door back into place, adjusting the tapestry that hides its seams from view, you may have noticed that there are more candles lit now than when you slipped out earlier, having abandoned the Keep in favor of a night spent in the city lying below Aegon’s High Hill. 

When all is as it was, the secret door shut and covered, you turn around. Heaving a sigh, you shrug your cloak from your shoulders, letting it fall into a heap on the floor. Gooseflesh immediately forms along your arms, kissed by the chill breeze blowing in from the open balcony. 

You walk to the vanity on the far side of your room, rolling your neck and shoulders, muscles sore from hours spent dancing among the smallfolk in a Flea Bottom tavern. Exhaustions made your bones weary, fantasies of crawling into warm sheets plague your mind. They tempt you, urging you to forego your nightly routine in favor of sweet, sweet sleep. 

Your footsteps falter, casting a wistful glance down your shoulder to your bed when—

Seven Hells! 

Your pulse jumps, a scream threatens to rip from your throat at the sight of a figure sat on the foot of your bed. You react quickly, clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle any sound, not wanting to raise alarm amongst the guards. Recognition washes over you in a matter of seconds, taking them in one detail at a time: their weathered boots and polished armor, tanned skin and ever-present frown. 

Lowering your hand, you have half a mind to curse Criston for frightening you like this, for not announcing himself as soon as you snuck in—

Rational thought trumps what remains of fear. 

He had to have seen you—sneaking in from the passages, hiding the door upon entrance. 

Fuck. 

The air turns thick. Every breath is like sucking treacle into your lungs, slow and suffocating. Criston’s stare is heavy, his expression like weathered stone. Armor grinds against itself as his arms cross over his chest. “Where have you been?” 

There’s some relief that he doesn’t first question you about the passages. Does he already know about them, you wonder? After all, before Criston became your protector, he was sworn to your half-sister, Rhaenyra—who, in your youth, was said to be quite rebellious. 

A trait Criston finds to be alive and well within you. 

You look away from him, continuing to your vanity. “I was out,” you answer, purposefully curt. “Obviously.” 

Nudging the vanity stool with your foot, you take a seat upon its plush velvet cushion. Criston pushes off your bed, and you fight a smirk at the sound of his footfalls, heavy and fervent as he strides to your side. 

“Out where?” 

You pull your neatly plaited hair over your shoulder, watching yourself in the mirror as you untie the ribbon binding it. “In the city,” you tell him, tossing the scrap of silk onto the vanity top. “Where else would I go?” 

“Were you alone?” 

You reach for your brush, begin combing. “What does it matter?” Before he can answer, you catch his gaze in the reflection, eyes playfully narrowing as you ask, “If I said that I wasn’t, would you be jealous, Ser Criston?” 

He certainly looks jealous. 

The knight’s breathing is shallow, tanned cheeks flush with frustration. At your question, a muscle feathers in his jaw, clenched so tight that you can nearly hear his teeth grind together. There’s a dark gleam in his eyes, a shadow of rage—not at you, you don’t think. But at whoever may have been graced with your presence tonight, showered with your favor and affection. 

“As your sworn protector,” Criston says, voice strained, “I have a right to ask if you were escorted by another member of the Kingsguard.” 

There’s such emotion in it—the way he said: Your sworn protector. A trembling betrays his fraying restraint, revealing the raw nerve beneath and exposing Criston’s desperation, a desire to not only be sworn to you, but to be wholly possessed by you. 

Your sworn protector—no longer a title, but an identity. 

Your sworn protector—no longer an oath, but a sacred devotion. 

You set your brush down, holding his stare with a faint smirk. “I’m afraid that doesn’t answer my question, Ser.” 

Something snaps. His mouth twists into a scowl. 

“Are you truly so thoughtless, princess?” Criston asks, his tone maintaining a delicate balance between respect and disappointment. “Do you understand it’s your very life you play with? And that it’s not only you who would suffer the consequences of this… this utter lack of duty! This wanton negligence!” 

You could have him dismissed from the Kingsguard for this. 

For speaking so freely. For interrogating a princess. For trespassing in your rooms. 

Criston continues, “If something were to happen to you, my life is forfeit. The king would–” 

He’s interrupted by wood screeching against stone, the vanity stool thrust back as you rise to your feet. You turn to stand toe-to-toe with the knight, chin tilted to lock eyes with him. “The king,” you hiss with a sickly smile, contradicting the venom in your voice, “would do nothing—just as he’s done all my life.” 

The energy shifts. Criston’s scowl morphs to a pitying frown. 

“He is your father,” his protest is a tentative breath, laced with underlying uncertainty, “if something happened to you, he would seek justice.” 

You laugh, low and bitter. Shake your head and shove past the knight. “If he mistook me for Rhaenyra, perhaps,” you say, kicking off your shoes as you head to the wardrobe next to your bed. “If not, then I imagine he wouldn’t even notice I’m gone. My life—the lives of my siblings—has never meant anything to him.” 

Criston redirects, facing you now. He argues, “It means something to your mother.”—And to me, he holds back. 

A scoff, throwing the wardrobe open. 

Your mother loves you, of course—but it’s the kind of love that hurts. It’s cold distance and piercing scrutiny, violent words and stinging cheeks. If you were to die, she would certainly mourn. But it won’t change that she failed you. It won’t make her a good mother. 

When you don’t respond, mindlessly digging through a drawer of nightgowns, Criston knows better than to broach that particular topic any further. 

With a hesitant breath, he says, “It’s my duty to protect you. To keep you safe.” He takes several steps, decreasing the distance between you by coming to stand at the foot of your bed. You stay facing the wardrobe. “It’s true that I cannot tell you what to do—if you wish to fraternize with common-men—” such distaste laces this word—“then that is your will.” 

There’s a pause. Your hands falter, swathed in a mess of silky fabric as you wait for him to continue. 

“I only ask that you heed caution, princess. For you to allow me to accompany you and do my job—to safeguard your life, your virtue-”

Genuine amusement floods your chest. It spills from your lips in a string of vivacious giggles. “Is that what this is about, Ser Criston? My virtue?” You settle on a nightgown, turn around and toss it onto your bed. You glance to the foot of it, at Criston and his ever-present frown. “You truly are a jealous man,” you muse, smiling, “aren’t you? Thinking I go into the city to fuck common-men.” 

His fists tighten at his sides, the blatant mockery in your voice having invited a wave of embarrassment. 

“It was not my intention to imply that—” 

The words catch in Criston’s throat as you turn the opposite way, slip your shirt over your head and shimmy out of your trousers, leaving the smallclothes beneath. All he can see is your back—the smooth column of your spine, brushed by tendrils of long, silver hair—but that’s enough. 

Enough to make his heart jolt, hammer against his ribcage. Enough to make his knees weak, threaten to buckle beneath his weight. Enough to light a fire inside him, flames licking at every inch of his skin. 

Grasping at the final shreds of his restraint, Criston averts his gaze to the floor. 

He swallows on a too-dry throat. “King’s Landing is full of vile men, princess,” he tells you, a sense of guilt pricking at his conscience. “And vile men are known to commit vile acts.” 

You reach out an arm, grab the nightgown and pull it over your head. Silk glides over your skin, covering the exposed flesh that tempts the knight so. 

Whirling to face him, you ask, “And what about you?” 

Criston doesn’t answer, still studying the rug beneath his feet with a staggering intensity. You catch his brow furrow, though, a small wrinkle forming there. You elaborate on your question. 

“You’re a man in King’s Landing,” you tell him, leisurely placing one foot in front of the other, gliding to where he stands at the end of your bed. “Are you as vile as the rest of them, Ser Criston?” 

Again, only silence. 

You take another step. Less than a foot of space separates you, close enough now to scent the earthy musk of his armor. “Some might think it vile,” you continue, taunting him, “for you to be here right now—hiding in my bedchambers well after dark.” 

Criston stammers, his words broken-up by serrated breaths, “I merely wished to know that you were safe, princess.” Dark eyes flutter up from the floor, drawn to yours. “My intentions were pure.” 

“Were?” 

His blood thrums. His lungs ache. 

You continue, “Do you mean your intentions have changed, Ser Criston?” 

Criston tells the truth. “No.” With you, his intentions are always pure. It’s his desires that complicate things. “My intentions are the same,” he tells you, clearing his throat, “I only wish to know you’re safe. That you’re well-protected.” 

Your mistrust in his answer is evident. Lips pursed, your eyes scan his face, searching for something. At this moment, he feels every bit like prey. A cornered animal trapped beneath the searing gaze of a dragon, left entirely at your mercy. 

A part of him is terrified. Another, utterly entranced.

Finally, you click your tongue. Reaching out a hand, you place it against his chest. His gaze falls, staring at where your palm is pressed to his armor. He wonders how it might feel against his skin. “You’re an honorable knight, Ser Criston,” you tell him, smiling. “A good man, too.” 

Criston doesn’t remember the need for oxygen until your touch falls away. 

Turning your back to him again, you stride back around your bed, pull the blankets back, and sit on the edge of your mattress. His mind is still reeling when you next speak.

“I was with Aegon.” 

Criston blinks. “What?” 

“You asked if I was alone,” you say, reminiscing on his earlier question, “I wasn’t. I was with Aegon—who was accompanied by Ser Erryk.” Sliding your legs beneath the blankets, you lean back against a stack of plush pillows. “So I was well-protected from those vile men you speak of.” Chewing on your lip, fighting a wider grin, you add, “I just thought you might like to know—despite how unjealous you are.”  

Criston’s own lips twitch, curving upwards. 

“Good,” he says, a bit awkward. Then: “And about that secret door…” 

You groan, tossing your head back against the pillows. Criston softly chuckle, another lecture already poised on the tip of his tongue. 

It’s going to be a long night.

a/n - idk man. I randomly decided at 8pm that I needed to write 2k words about this man after never writing for him a day in my life, and this is the product of that. any and all feedback is welcome and much appreciated!

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Dumb Little Bunny

...kinda cnc, argument to sex, switch! Toji and reader hehe, low-key foot stuff but also not really, hint of misogyny (use of slut, whore), degradation, and a possessive Toji. Happy Halloween!

"You're not wearing that."

Glancing down, you swiftly study your skin tight garment, pouting slightly.

"Yes, I am... it's on my body, isn't it?" Head whipping towards a brooding Toji, you smirk, a playful giggle bubbling in your chest.

"Very funny, smart ass." He huffs out, the beginning fire of a hissy-fit sparking up in his pebble-shaded eyes. He drags his feet over to you, bit-to-the-stub nails gripping at the skin engulfed by faux leather.

"Don't you think you're gonna get cold? Your legs are hangin' out like it's nobody's business." Toji grumbles, turning you towards the full sized mirror angled against your bedroom wall.

Toji is less than thrilled, to say the least. There you stand, figure squeezed and kissed by the tight fabric of your Playboy bunny one-piece. Complete with a puffy cotton tail and upright, pointed ears. Words can't describe the feeling that struck deep inside Toji's gut the second he saw you all whored out for this stupid Halloween party. The feeling grew from pleasurable to territorial when he realized he wouldn't be the only one seeing you tonight.

"The alcohol should keep me warm." You wiggle out of his grasp, patting his stone chest, before sitting down at the princess vanity he built for you. You pat at your cheeks with blush, sharpen your eyeliner, and touch up your burgundy lipstick.

"Don't start with that. Don't be such a little fucking brat." Toji's tone is harsh as he crosses his arms across his broad chest.

The lack of control brewed anxiety in his limbs and lungs. You invited him... you really meant it, too. But he was the one who turned you down.

"A Halloween party? Sweets, I'm too damn old for that shit."

Toji's attitude was expected, but throughly unappreciated by you... so you simply ignore him. You hear him groan before he lifts you off your cushioned seat, taking your place and settling you into his lap.

Before you can tell him off, he's nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck, tenderizing the area, before roughly biting down. You hiss, pushing his heavy head away and once again escaping his almost solid embrace.

"Ouch Toji! Ugh, what the fuck..." You trail off towards the end of your sentence, feeling the sting of his sharp teeth at the base of your neck.

"Fuckin assholes... their eyes are gonna be all over you, y'know... my fucking bunny. Dressed all cute and slutty."

Toji is still sat, arms crossed, a suble pout on his lips. A grown man throwing a tantrum like a four year old. And he said he's too old for a Halloween party.

Bending at your hips, you push past Toji's slumped shoulders, your eyes making out a wide, dark red mark on your neck.

"For fuck sakes, Toji... you're that fucking jealous hm?" Steadying yourself, hands flat on the vanity, you speak to him through your reflection, voice stern, concrete. He stands behind you, leaning down, his chest flat against your back. He lightly kisses, and kitten licks at the bold mark of territory. Leaning back into him, you feel his semi-hard pressing into the exposed skin of your fishnet-clad ass.

"You look so fucking good, mama. Don't want any of those usless fucking tools seein' ya all dolled up. I want to show you off, not sit here, knowing you're showing off." Finishing off his sentence with a light tug on your hair, he rolls his hips into your backside. Turning in your place, you pull Toji large body into you by his biceps. Groping his growing bulge, you use your other hand to hoist your bottom half onto the desk of your hand-crafted vanity. He follows your lead, staring at you almost expectantly. Sharp eyes follow your foot as it inches its way up Toji's thick thigh. Landing on his crotch, you playfully kick him soft as to not hurt him but firm enough to coax a small groan out of him.

"You like it, though, don't you, Toji? You like knowing that a young, sexy bunny is all yours. You know what to do... maybe if you make me proud, I won't flirt around tonight." You smirk, snapping off the flimsy buttons between your legs. Usually, hearing something like that would force Toji into a juvenile fit. His venomous jealousy would take over, fully souring his mind. But when you have him like this, under your spell, he just wants to prove himself to the woman he admires most.

Quickly, he pulls your pretty red panties aside, allowing the chilling air to wisp at your core. But, the change of temperature isn't the only thing that widens your eyes. Toji's wide tongue flattens upon your heat, licking up and down like an ice cream cone. His head makes exaggerated movements as the tip of his defined nose rubs into your sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure through your body, sizzling out at your toes.

Toji straightens out on his knees, grasping at the back of your calve, bending your leg to fit between him and the wood you're placed upon. Pulling the ball of your foot back against his crotch, he holds the top of your foot to his weeping cock, moaning into you at the easing pressure. He slowly picks up a steady rhythm. You throw your head back, grabbing at Toji's dark locks and pull his face flush against you.

Before you can even reach your climax, you feel Toji stiffen and detach himself from you, and you peer down just in time to see the front of his grey sweatpants deepen in color.

A gruff groan escapes his throat as he sinks his pearly whites into the soft skin of your inner thigh between the open bubbles of your fishnets, like a dog and his bone.

"Ruined my fuckin' sweatpants, shit." Toji grumbles out, standing to his full height, towering over your sitting form. He pulls down the stained fabric, just enough for his veiny, throbbing, stiff dick to pop out. Without warning, he shoves himself into your fluttering, sensitive hole.

"'M gonna fuck ya dumb, bunny." Toji pants out, placing his hands behind you on the polished wood, thrusts immediately adopting a harsh, sharp pulse. Quickly, you begin babbling and cooing out, already being fucked stupid. You can feel your power slip through your fingers with every snap of your boyfriend's powerful hips. Before your dominance completely runs off, shriveled up in fear, you grab onto the back of his head, your mouth seeking his neck.

Toji groans as overstimulation creeps in, weakening his knees until he's in a partial squat, hunched over you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up, pretty girl. Gonna breed you like a fucking bunny. Every one of those idiots are gonna know who you're a disgusting little whore for." He grunts before you feel warm ropes of cum stuff your womb full. Still cumming, Toji pulls out, aiming his flushed head toward the shiny fabric of your sluttly little suit. He stumbles back, admiring the white streaks soaking into the slick black costume.

"Ugh, Toji, it's gonna stain." You mumble out, still shaking as you try to wipe off his cum with your fingers, engulfing them in your mouth, tasting the salty essence.

"Heh. Good." He lowly chuckles, sitting back down on your fragile chair, throwing his head back in exhaustion. You study the dark purple marks on his neck, perfectly matching the love-bites poorly hidden by the patchwork material on your legs.

"You sure you don't want to tag along? You might need to keep me in check." You smile devilishly, cheekily winking, before snapping the buttons of your skimpy onesie back together.

Toji huffs dramatically, irritation slowly snooping back into his dazed mind.

So there you are, frazzled and flushed, walking into this stupid Halloween party. Hand in hand. A dumb, sweet little bunny with her big, mean, dumber man.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Prince!Katsuki Bakugo x Princess!Reader 🍋 - Redemablity

Summary: You are distraught to wed your new husband, the son of a neighboring kingdom who is known to be quite cruel, but is it possible that he may have redeemable qualities only presented when it's time to consummate your marriage?

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, porn with plot, angst, breeding, premature ejaculation, unprotected sex, dom!bakugo, sub!reader, afab!reader

You drank your reflection in numbly, bright bridal eyes picking you apart. To the untrained gaze, you were the ideal image of youth and beauty- the fairest in the land, some would say. But your eyes were bloodshot and cradled by puffed lids. Wet lashes threatened to stain your cheeks with inky tears should you ever stop fanning the sorrow from your eyes. Pushing away from the vanity, you sighed, feeling weighted by dread, as if there were stones in the folds of your gown. You had little time to prepare and all weeping would do was waste it.

Your instructions were clear as day: dress down and await your husband's arrival while nestled modestly in bed, clad in your sleeping gown. You had been offered a chambermaid, and you adamantly refused her services, but in the end, your request for privacy was vetoed.

"Please step back, ma'am," A deep, yet still feminine voice croaked You did as she asked, stepping backward toward her as her nimble fingers began to unlace your corset. "If I may speak freely, your grace," She offered a small smile that went unseen as she loosened the strings. "His Majesty is blessed to wed such a radiant gem as yourself."

"Thank you, Asui," You swallowed dryly. You'd been referred to like this all your life, eventually being called beautiful lost it's charm.

"Please, ma'am, call me Tsu," She beamed cheerily, trying to melt the thick tension in the air as she finally was able to shimmy your bodice off.

Something about her friendly demeanor actually was able to soothe you some. Since you'd arrived in this kingdom, you'd only been met with fear, praise, or condescension. It was incredibly nice to have a single person who offered something resembling friendship. "Thank you, Tsu." You corrected with a small bow of the head. "Tell me, are the rumors about the people of this kingdom true?"

Tsu gave a knowing smile as she came to your front to untie your skirts. "Aye," She nodded. "The royal family of this kingdom are ruthless and unforgiving, that much is true. But," She digressed, letting your outer skirt fall to the floor, followed by the layer just beneath. "You'll find no safer castle to reside in. This is a fortress, guarded by the most valiant of kingsmen and the tactical prowess of their Majesties remains unmatched."

"You're saying this kingdom wins wars," You conclude, a tad more bitterly than intended. "I do not fancy myself a husband who is interested in war."

"Aye, ma'am, but that's what you've got." The chambermaid said matter of factly. "The Bakugo family are conquerers and the prince is no black sheep." She could see the unrest settling deeper into your face and she offered another reassuring smile as she began dismantling your crinoline. "If it brings you any solace, know that rumor has it Prince Katsuki picked you out himself. Out of a line of potential wives, he'd settle for no less than you specifically."

"That brings me nothing but dread," You laugh weakly. "Ruthless and obsessed do not make the perfect husband."

Tsu's shoulders slumped, seeing as she couldn't sway you into giving the young prince a chance. "I respect your opinion, my lady, but keep an open mind, perhaps. Making up your mind to live miserably now will not grant you any favors down the line..."

She was absolutely right and you knew it as you stepped out of the crinoline. "I will do my best." You relented slightly, letting her shimmy your bloomers down, along with your stockings. She nodded pleasantly to you now that you were undressed, her swampy eyes only protected from your form by a paper-thin linen sleeping gown. Offering you a hand, she led you over to the grand four-post bed, fitted with fine silks and soft furs- the most lavish bedding the castle had to over.

"Nestle in, my lady," She cooed, holding up the sheets while you tucked under them. "His Majesty will be with you shortly." You simply nodded with a longing look, as if begging her not to leave as she turned on her heels to go. "Send for me should you need anything."

"Thank you, Tsu..."

-----

You'd nearly drifted off when the door opened again, flooding candlelight into the otherwise dark room. The flame flickered against a stoic face, before being settled on a nearby table. You could hear the shifting of heavy fabrics and rustling in the middle of the room- your new husband stripping, no doubt. You stayed perfectly still, pretending to be asleep as he moved the candle to the bedside table and crawled under the covers with you.

"Wake up," Was all he said, shifting under the covers to loom over you. "Don't think sleeping through our wedding night will stop the consummation of this union." His words had come out as a threat but he hadn't intended them that way. Your eyes shot open at the warning and you nestled yourself deeper into the mattress. Katsuki could see your unease and he softened, but not enough for you to notice- you weren't looking for it. "Don't run from me," He said lowly, palms on either side of your head.

"Release me," You spat, scrunching your face in disdain as you pulled the covers up to your collarbone.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't take this well. "Being my wedding night, I am in an unusually good mood, so I'll give you an opportunity to recollect yourself and remember who it is that you're speaking to."

"I don't care who you are," You doubled down. "I will never willingly play this role you've forced upon me."

The venom in your voice took him back and he sat back on his calves, still between your knees. "A regretful circumstance, but I can assure you, though your willingness would be ideal," He sighed as if his cruel words carried little weight on his conscience. "It is not necessary."

"You would take me by force?" You shrieked, disgusted by the notion, attempting to shift away.

Vermillion eyes bore into you like a nail through splintering wood. "No," He finally answered, cold stare trained on you. "At least not in the way you expect." Katsuki repositioned himself, scooting closer to you. "You are required to produce my heir and to consummate this marriage tonight. That is all that's required of you and it will be done."

His mind made up, he loomed over you, taking the backs of your knees in his hands. "Know that I don't take any pleasure from this. Look away if you feel the need."

You took his advice, hiding your face in your shoulder, eyes squeezed tight, bracing for impact. Instead, you were only met with a warm and overwhelming pleasure. Gasping, you immediately shot up to investigate, finding those same eyes, burning into yours like the last embers of a bonfire. "Does this hurt?" He simply asked, calloused, slobbery thumb rubbing languid circles on your clit, never slowing or breaking eye contact.

All you could do was shake your head before letting it fall back into the pillows. "W-Why..." You croaked, confused as to why he'd pleasure you after threatening to take you despite protest.

"I don't want to hurt you," Katsuki confessed, again making a threat out of an honest statement. "That is to say, if you won't enjoy this, I want it to bring as little discomfort as possible."

You began to feel a bit silly for assuming he'd simply take you with no preparations or regard for your comfort. The gesture of trying to coax natural lubricant from your unwilling body was almost...sweet in some way. It was nearly enough to make you change your mind, but you held rocksteady in your convictions.

"I never have been a poet," Katsuki finally spoke again, lifting the hem of his sleeping gown to reveal himself already erect and weeping. He pumped lazily into his fist, milking pearlescence from his tip before smearing it as far as it would spread. "But I will admit when I am overcome and I am..." He paused, steely gaze tracing your ill-covered form.

The linen gown did you no favors when it came to modesty, draping over your every curve like a silk sheet. Your visage was reminiscent of Greek statues he'd studied in youth, full-figured ones chiseled with such skill that the marble they were made from looked sheer against the body. He could tell by the sight of you that you were healthy enough to survive childbirth dozens of times over as he primally kneaded the dough of your hips. Hips that were perfect for carrying the weight of an heir- many if he had his way. "And I am dreadfully overcome tonight."

"Overcome by...what exactly?" You dared to ask, peering up at him meekly.

"Need, desire, instinct," He answered, vermillion eyes never leaving your body. "I have waited years to have you in my bed, my lady." He confessed, jaw slack as he ate up your image. "Forgive me if I seem brash, I was never blessed with the gift of eloquent speech. That's why I searched for a wife like you, who could decipher my thoughts."

Katsuki's brows furrowed as he released a captive breath, stroking himself more intentionally. "I may be rough around the edges, but I will gladly lay down my life for the sake of redeemability in your eyes."

His stare was still stern, but there was a softness in it that you could no longer ignore. Try as you did to villainize the prince, you found yourself smitten with this sacred, saccharine side of him. You had often fantasized about marrying a stoic man who had a soft spot only for you as a young girl- could it be possible that this was your girlish dream come to fruition?

"Are you overcome by me, your grace?" You murmur, tucking your chin to your collarbone, voice dripping with more flirtation than you had intended.

"Aye," He breathed, still stroking himself lazily, a still thumb pressed against your clit. "Overcome and overwhelmed- direly." His desperate expression melted what little resolve you had left and you relented to the notion of enjoying your wedding night.

-----

"God," Katsuki rasped, caging you in his arms as he breached, not only consummating his union with you but exchanging his virginity for yours as well. "So much better than I could have ever dreamed..."

You couldn't help but feel shy at his words, only increased by the overwhelming sensation of the agonizing initial stretch. You squeezed your eyes tight, not daring to look at him for fear of catching him staring back. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes had screwed shut in bliss, muscles relaxing and giving way entirely as his head lulled backward, a mess of platinum locks resting against his trapezius.

Your husband continued to pray under his breath, pressing your knees closer to your shoulders, hardly resisting the need to let his hips sputter. It tempted him all the more the way your velvety hole squeezed him as your body struggled to adjust to the new presence, but he held steadfast and perfectly still. He promised himself he would until you begged him to move. That's what he expected at least.

However, despite how he imagined the act proceeding, your body reacted before your lips could part. A pitiful groan left his lips as you sucked him in, hips bucking up in a feeble attempt to take matters into your own hands. A few shallow rolls and an almost silent whimper were all it took and your suddenly sweet spouse snapped.

"Now you've gone and done it," He sighed, plunging into you at an already steady pace, unable to lift his head from how it rested backward as his hips snapped into yours. "W-Won't be able to stop now, no turning back."

You could almost forget the soreness if this could last forever. He perfectly stuffed you, his tip just kissing your cervix when he was fully sheathed, but still able to bully it if given any effort. You would have laid there forever, letting him fuck into you with all the brutality you expected him to carry before actually meeting him. If only he'd lasted beyond the first few thrusts.

Minutes after he began picking up pace, you felt his body lock up and his breath sucked into his throat as a gooey warmth spread through you. You stared up at him thinking surely you were mistaken but his expression showed his true colors.

Red splotches painted his cheeks, streaking across his nose and dripping down the shells of his ears. His brows were furrowed, for once not out of frustration, but in an almost pathetic scrunch, and his jaw hung slack, drool drizzled on his chin. There was no mistaking it, even to your untrained eye- this was the flushed face of a man who had just planted his first seed.

Before you could react, he breathed out a few words that made your heart swell. "M-My deepest apologies," He sighed, hips still spasming. In perfect honesty, you were a tad disappointed, thinking that he'd now surely pull out, leave you with a mess, and flop over, out like a light. Imagine your surprise when his hips snapped into yours again, pulling a low, pained growl from his throat. "I-I won't- hah-" Katsuki mutters through gritted teeth, giving you another sharp thrust, falling into a terribly slow, but brutal pattern. "I-I won't leave you unsatisfied, my treasure."

You never could have imagined your wedding night with 'The Merciless Son of Musutafu' to be so wonderful. You could see the discomfort in his face as he pushed beyond his own limits to ensure your needs were met. Every grunt and prayer that dripped off his kiss-bitten lips made you feel incredibly special, especially when the volume of what filled you increased.

Katsuki couldn't help but release a second time, milked by your tight heat, overstimulated past the point of even feeling climax anymore. Tears pricked his eyes as he drowned in the constant and endless build-up. You pitied him terribly, but not enough to allow him to stop, locking your legs around his waist as you selfishly chased your high. "Please, just a bit more," You pled, feeling the rutting of his hips slow, exhaustion over taking him. You raked your brain for an idea of how to spur him on until your finally remembered your purpose: to produce him a son.

"K-Keep going, darling," You purred, rolling your hips to meet his to make up for what he began to lack. "Forgive me for what I said, I'll be a good wife, just- ahh..." You trailed off in a moan, eyes rolling back as you crawled toward your summit. "I-I want to bare your heirs, as many as possible!"

Just like before, your words broke something in him and he became ultra-aware of the creamy fluid he'd blessed you with. His brows furrowed, this time paired with a determined gleam in his eye and a stern frown as he began to push his oversensitivity aside. He was going to conceive a child tonight, Hell or high water. He could only imagine rubbing your round belly as you greeted him home from another war won, a gaggle of blonde children surrounding you- the vision kept him going as he bullied that special spot, fucking his seed into you as deeply as possible.

You could no longer keep up with his bruising pace, unraveling almost as soon as he picked it up. You saw white as he continued to push you further through your climax, whispering sweet nothings pertaining to how wonderfully you'll fill the roles of wife, mother, and queen.

-----

You weren't certain when you'd drifted off, but you awoke to sunlight peaking through the windows of the chamber, the lark singing you good morning. It startled you at first- how tightly you were held against your new husband. He cradled you from behind, a peaceful expression on his sleeping face. It didn't take you long to recognize a foreign fullness inside you and your face reddened when you realized, that not only were you still full of his load, you were still connected to him. He must have stuffed back inside when we cuddled up to you, you decided.

Your shifting stirred him and he hummed, sanguine eyes fluttering open as he glanced up at you. He remained silent, though you could almost see the words on his tongue. Finally, he spoke with a lazy smile. "I didn't want anything to go to waste, I wanted to make sure it took."

Something about his words churned your stomach and you smiled, flexing your abdominal muscles to squeeze his growing morning erection. "If I weren't any wiser, I'd be inclined to believe you may have enjoyed our first night together." Katsuki teased softly, wrapping his battle-scarred arms around your plush middle, pulling you closer.

"You may be correct about that," You admitted with a playful laugh, letting him cuddle you like a stuffed toy, sighing as his hips rolled languidly into your backside. "I would hate to let this opportunity go to waste," You smirked, pushing your rear against his lap. "After all, if we are to produce an heir within the next year, we can't let a single chance to conceive slip by, now can we?"

"Aye, a wise idea, my sweet," He laughed dryly, arms tightening around you as his face nuzzled into your hair, "I want to start my family as soon as possible."

Hi guys, I'm so very sorry this took so long to come out! I've been terribly busy lately and I wanted this to be really good for you all! I want to give a special thanks to all my new followers, as well as the loyal few who have been with me all this time! We are now at 4.04K followers and counting, that's so crazy! When I started writing a decade ago, I never could have anticipated that I'd have so many people enjoying my little hobby, let alone so many within three years of joining Tumblr. You all truly are the best and I hope everyone enjoys this one! I love you all so much!

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

The Night We Met | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Would you like to be sad? Great!

This literally consumed me last night, I could not stop working on it.

Warnings: blood, reader injuries, anxiety / panic attack, guilt, hella angst

Bucky appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. One moment, you were alone- and the next, his stormy eyes burned into yours. He moved so silently through the apartment you shared, his winter soldier training rendering his footsteps imperceptible. He stood stone still in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, a large file-folder in hand. Something about him was off, sharply disjointed. His breath was erratic and labored. His jaw tense. 

“Bucky, baby…” you turned to face him, abandoning your make up. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He was angry- or maybe he was heartbroken. He wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that a violent swirling of unidentifiable, painful emotions tore through his chest time and time again. He almost couldn’t breathe. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He forced the words out. They were cold. Sharp. He didn’t elaborate or give context. Just stared at you, despondent. Gutted.

You quickly rose from your seat in front of the vanity, “Tell you what?” You took his free hand in yours, “What are you talking about?”

He extended the folder in your direction, motioning for you to take it. But you didn’t. You didn’t have to. An incident report number sat listed on the outside of the folder- you’d recognize that number anywhere. 

The world around you seemed to spin ever faster as the silent moments passed. The file shook in your trembling hand, it’s massive pile of papers nearly falling to the floor. “I can- I can explain, Buck…” Your breath was sharp, shallow. “Just come here. Come sit with me, okay?” You tried your best to tug him toward the bed, but he resisted. He remained rooted in place- either unwilling or unable to move with you.

“Buck, I’m sorry- I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. Ever. But I didn’t wanna upset you and…” Your voice wavered. Tears welled in your eyes. They made tracks down your cheeks, ruining your freshly applied foundation. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest. I just didn’t know how to tell you. And then it was too late. I’d waited too long. And I didn’t-”

Bucky held up a hand, silencing you. “I don’t understand…” he said after a long, painfully silent moment. “You met me before you met me…” The shame was almost unbearable- he feared he might drown in it. “But you still wanted to be with me?”

You nodded.

“How? How- how did you overlook who I was?” His words came out frantic, panicked. “And why? It doesn’t- it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I don’t know what happened-” He took the file from your hand and gave it another once over, “it says you redacted almost every detail- every detail of what I did. But here- right here…” He pointed to one of the only sentences not marked out with thick, black lines. “Look at that.”

You eyed the large, black, block letters, the letters you’d seen a hundred times before:

Agent 1209 suffered nearly fatal injuries. 

J.B. Barnes AKA “the Winter Soldier” responsible.

He wasn’t mad- or maybe he was. But not for the reason you thought. 

Tension weighed down the air around you. Bucky stared down at the words on the page, reading and rereading them until he thought he might be sick. 

“Buck… can you talk to me?” 

His voice came out quiet, strained. He struggled for air. But eventually he found the strength to utter one sentence, “I almost killed you.” 

The file slipped from his hands. Papers floated to the floor and formed a pile at your feet, the thick, black lines staring up at you from the carpet. And then Bucky’s knees buckled. He sunk to the ground, creasing and crumpling the papers and their redacted words. 

You met Bucky on the floor in an instant, taking his face in your hands. You knew him well enough by now to know what came next. And though you couldn’t stop the impending panic attack that loomed on the horizon, you could at least help him through it. 

“Can you look at me, Buck? Can you focus on me?” You swept your thumbs over his cheeks slowly, gently, until he finally met your gaze. “Hey, that’s great. Now stay here with me, okay? Stay right here with me, baby.”

Bucky thought he might die. His heart punched against his rib cage, his blood roared in his ears. Dread and panic sat on his chest like cinderblocks, weighing him down. He couldn’t find it in him to make his lungs expand. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead; his mouth ran dry. This was it for him.

“You’re gonna breathe with me, Buck. Just like we always do.”

But he simply shook his head. 

“Yes- yes, you can, baby. I know you can.” 

And though it seemed impossible, Bucky kept tempo with you. He breathed when you told him to, exhaled on cue. You whispered praises and assurances between breaths. And finally, the color returned to his cheeks. His chest no longer burned from lack of oxygen. And the shaking in his hands slowed- it didn’t disappear completely, but this was a start. 

“Okay, let’s talk,” you said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Come here- come sit with me.” With a gentle tug, you brought him closer. He matched your stance, his back resting against the bed. He kept a hand in yours, too scared to let go. But deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be allowed to touch you. 

“Tell me what happened- please, tell me what I did…” he said. “I need to know.”

This couldn’t end well. You knew it. You knew he’d hear your story and immediately implode, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. It seemed like the epitome of a bad idea. A disaster waiting to happen. 

“Please.”

But you owed him the truth. 

“Okay, um…” You swore to take this story to your grave, to let it die with you. No one- especially not Bucky- needed to know what happened that night. But the desperation in his voice, the pleading in his eyes, won you over. “It was around the time of Project Insight. There was that fight on the bridge- the one with you, Steve, Nat and Sam.”

Bucky nodded. 

“And Hill knew it was gonna get ugly at the Triskelion. Shit was about to hit the fan- she knew lives would be lost. And so, she sent some of us- agents who she knew for sure weren’t Hydra- to secure locations. I ended up in a house near the outside of the city.”

Bucky’s grip on your hand increased in pressure. He found himself on the edge of his seat, as though he were watching a stressful movie. Only, it wasn’t a movie. This was his life- your life. And he knew he was about to have his heart shattered. Irreparably so. 

“I was there with a few other agents, people I’d worked with for a while. We’d only been there a few hours when I woke up to this… this sound.” The memory made you shudder. You shut your eyes and shook your head, forcing the images to dissipate. But the sound still reverberated inside your skull. “I went to go check it out and I found one of my fellow agents. She was um, she was on the ground. Her throat slit. She was still alive but making this- this gurgling sound. She was choking. Aspirating on her own blood.”

You wiped a stray tear from your cheek as you thought back on your coworker. Your fellow agent. Your friend. Alana. She was smart. Strong. Funny. You liked her, trusted her. And you watched her die. 

“And I got caught up with her, you know? I couldn’t save her, but I couldn’t just leave her there. I couldn’t let her die alone. So, I sat with her until she stopped, um…” you cleared your throat. “Anyway, it was the right thing to do. But not the smart thing. Cause I was a sitting duck. I was an easy target. I should’ve made it my mission to find the others. I should’ve gotten out of the house. I should’ve called for backup or pulled my gun. But I didn’t.”

Bucky wanted to hide. He wanted to run away and never come back. He couldn’t believe he’d saddled you with such trauma. Such pain and anguish. When the two of you met, he fell for you instantly. He promised himself that he’d treat you with only love. Gentle hands and kind words. He’d never hurt you, never make you cry. He just didn’t realize he’d broken that promise before he even made it.

“But by the time I realized that I needed to move, it was too late.” You took pause. Reliving this memory wasn’t your favorite past time, but telling Bucky seemed like the very worst possible option. He was going to hate himself for this. He was going to spend the rest of his life punishing himself, self-flagellating until he died. 

“Tell me,” he almost begged. “I need to know.”

You turned to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Why, Buck? Why do I have to tell you?” Your voice broke, “I know how you’re going to react. I know you’re gonna feel terrible. You’re gonna hate yourself and treat yourself like shit. Why do you want to know?”

“I have to.” His voice was even, firm. “I have to experience my own memories vicariously through other people- through the eyes of those I hurt. I have to feel what they felt… because I couldn’t feel anything.”

You brought a shaking hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He was so good. So sweet and thoughtful and kind. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“That’s why I have this file, doll. I have a lot of them. I need to know everything I did.”

You nodded. You could never know what his experience was like. You’d never understand how it felt to have decades of memories missing from your mind. Ripped from you. Erased. And though it seemed like a terrible idea to divulge the details of what happened that day, you obliged Bucky’s request. 

You started slow, “I was sitting there with her, and something hit me in the head. It made me dizzy. And then there was a hand in my hair.”

Bucky grimaced.

“My hair was in this person’s fist, and I got dragged down the hall. I’m honestly surprised I don’t have a bald spot.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your joke. “Um, anyway, I didn’t feel my head hit the tile, but it did. Hard, apparently. The pain was delayed for some reason. It hit me a moment or two later. And then everything kind of went red? And I didn’t know what was going on. It took me kind of a long time to realize that I was bleeding- that I had blood in my eyes.”

Bucky rubbed a sleeve across his face, soaking up the tears that welled in his eyes. 

“I fought back. The med team said I had a lot of defensive wounds.” You eyed the scars littering your hands and forearms. The scars you’d told Bucky resulted from cooking accidents, thorns, and cat scratches. 

“And then I remember… I remember choking. I couldn’t breathe. Cause that um… that hand was around my neck. And there was a knife in my chest. My head was pounding, and my chest felt like it was on fire. This warm rush kind of coated my body- I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was blood. Everything was red still, but I remember these-” you didn’t want to say it. “These eyes. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen. And then I guess I blacked out.”

Bucky thought he might black out, too. Knowing that he’d treated you with such violence, such utter brutality ripped him to pieces. It carved through his flesh and bone, down into his very soul. He’d never forgive himself.

“I woke up, and I was still at the house. Still bleeding. One of my other agents was on the floor next to me- he was dead.” A burning sensation flared inside your nose as more tears formed. “But he always kept his phone on him- always. I had to rummage through his pockets to find it. It was weird- doing that to a, um, a dead person. A dead friend. But I used his phone it to call Hill. Next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital.”

Things fell silent and stayed that way for a long time. Bucky knew that if he broke down, you’d end up comforting him. And that simply wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve to be comforted, to have you treat him with kindness. Not after what he did to you.

But he couldn’t hold the emotion back any longer. It came at him with full force, throttling his insides. His hand shook in your grasp. His broken sobs filed the room. And though his voice was weak, you heard him muttering apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He nearly drowned in his remorse, in his guilt.

“Breathe, Buck. It’s okay…” you squeezed his hand and pressed kisses to his knuckles. “It’s all okay.”

The overwhelming urge to hold you eclipsed Bucky’s every thought. It was a deep-seeded need, a desperation. Feeling your warm body in his arms- your heartbeat, your breath fanning his skin- was all he needed. Holding you. Knowing that you were okay, that you were alive. It was the only cure for his heartbreak.

But he knew better. Who was he to hold you? To touch you with the same hands that once tried to end your life? It wasn’t right. He would’ve pulled his hand from yours if your grip weren’t so strong. 

“Can you come here?” You gave his hand a small tug, “let me hold you for a while, okay?”

Bucky shook his head.

But you knew exactly what to say to get your way, “Please, baby? It would make me feel better.” 

How could Bucky say no to that?

You laid down on the floor and pulled Bucky with you, positioning his body atop yours. His head rested on your chest, your arms curled around his body. And though you’d been the one to almost die by the Winter Soldier’s hand, it was Bucky who needed the comfort. Needed the love. 

“You know I love you, right?” you asked as you held him tight. “You know that I trust you? That I’m not scared of you? I’ve never been scared- not of you.”

Bucky nodded. But tears still fell from his eyes, dampening your shirt.

“I trust you with my life, Buck. I love you- I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.” 

Bucky couldn’t comprehend your words. How could you love the person who killed your friends? The person who tried to kill you? The person who beat you, strangled you, stabbed you? It made no fucking sense- not to Bucky. 

“Honestly, I’m just glad you’re not mad at me,” you said after a while. “I was really nervous there for a second- I thought I was gonna lose ya.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, finding comfort in the fact that Bucky wasn’t mad. That he still wanted you- even after you’d kept such a massive secret from him.

Bucky lifted his head. His desperate eyes met yours, “How could I- of course, I’m not mad at you.” After everything he’d done, you still worried that you were in the wrong. That you were the bad guy in this scenario. Bucky couldn’t understand it. “I’m just confused- I mean, why the hell aren’t you mad at me? Why- why do you trust me? Why are you even with me?”

Bucky’s words came out in a hurried scramble. And if you didn’t set him straight, he’d be lost yet again in a deep pit of despair. “Bucky, baby, that was one time. And it wasn’t your fault- you had no choice. You didn’t know what you were doing- you weren’t you.” It was simple to you. Straight-forward. Clear-cut. Obvious. “I could never hold a grudge against you for something you had no power over. ”

Bucky didn’t seem convinced. 

“Plus, I went to therapy,” you laughed.

Bucky thought long and hard about what you said. God, you were so kind. So understanding. But he had stray thoughts. Questions. “But when we met again- after that- why were you so nice to me? Weren’t you nervous?”

You shrugged. “A little- but just because my subconscious was trying to protect me, you know? It was instinct- not something I felt. Just my nervous system trying to do its job.” Bucky’s eyes grew sad- sadder than before. “I knew I was okay, though,” you said, quelling his pain. “I knew you were safe. That you were a good person.”

He stared at you wide eyed, still in disbelief. You allowed him to be your friend. You spent every day with him, talking and laughing and bonding. You made his birthday special, you ensured he didn’t spend the holidays alone. And you immediately accepted when he asked you out. 

“Thank you for giving me a second chance…”

“I didn’t see it as giving you a second chance- you didn’t need one. You didn’t need to redeem yourself,” you said. “I don’t hold it against you, Buck. I never have.”

He dragged his lips across the scar on your chest- the one you told him came from fighting Thanos’s army. “So, this… this is from me.” He ran his fingers over it a few times before running his hand down your arm. “And these,” he paused eyeing the myriad of scars littering your arms and hands, “these are from me, too.”

“They’re from that night, yes.”

Bucky took his time. He worked over your skin, treating each mark with care and attention. He kissed every scar and whispered his apologies. He was sorry for the pain he caused. The blood he spilled from you body. The nightmares he gave you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Buck. I was trying to protect you-”

“Don’t, baby. Don’t apologize,” he met your lips with his in a long, tender kiss. “I understand.”

You nodded. 

“I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” He sighed, “never again.”

“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven- for years, Buck.” You pressed a peck to his lips and shot him a smile, “Okay, now we’re both done apologizing. No more, or we’ll be here for the rest of time.”

Bucky laughed against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your scar. “Okay, deal. I love you.”

“I love you, Buck.” 

The two of you laid there a bit longer, coming down from the pain and anxiety. You held him close; he littered your skin with kisses. You knew he’d live with the guilt forever. That he’d always keep your story in the back of his mind, allowing the pain to infect his psyche.

“And hey, just so you know,” you whispered, “I haven’t thought about that night once- not since we became friends.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve always seen you for who you are, Buck. Not who they made you out to be.”

Bucky felt his heart rate slow. His anxiety receded; his breathing evened out. And with you there by his side, he let go of the guilt. He let it slip through his fingers and fade away. He wasn’t going to let it take up valuable space in his soul, not when that space could be filled with your love.

———————————

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[themotherofblood]

Let’s Play Dress Up

Vampire!Rhaenyra x Reader x Vampire!Daemon

masterlist | Bloody Baby AU | Vampire AU

synopsis: Ms Blood Bag breaks a rule to play her little game, stumbles onto Rhaenyra’s midnight snack. Rhaenyra punishes Baby to prove to Daemon she isn’t soft with Baby

warnings: DARK! DUBCON (I think) NONCON (to be safe) blood, blood drinking, infantilism, mdlg vibes? mommy mink, sub space? pet play, spanking (paddle), clamps (nipples and clit), vibrators, exhibitionism? butt plugs and bondage. overstimulation!! degradation!! pussy spanks. heel worship. WlW,

A/N: what have I done 😨

Another day of digging through your closet, gowns of pinks, baby blues, sweetheart neck lines, halter tops, sparkly, tulle, high slits—high slit. You happily shuffled out of your sundress for the day, your getting ready playlist blaring through the ceiling speakers. The red dress hugged your body perfectly, the silk so cold it made your nipples perk up and rub against the fabric. You excitedly twirled, damn— you already imagined your best friend hooting at you once she saw you in this. You clicked a picture and sent it to her, nibbling at your thumb and smiling to yourself.

Makeup, because why not, you still had five hours before Rhaenyra made it home. Daemon had left for Braavos the night before, preparing for the charity gala for a deal well struck. You hummed along, rubbing moisturiser into your skin, you had hoped to put on some mascara, maybe a nice bold lip to match the dress— mostly since it would be easy to scrub off in the shower. It was only then you realised from all the lip glosses, oils and sticks. Not a single red, barely darker than a hot pink. You pouted, you knew this was Daemon’s doing, forever infantilising you to his perfect little girl. The frilly socks and the bowl of candy in your room.

You knew who did have beautiful red shades— Rhaenyra! You knew you weren’t supposed to be in their rooms when they weren’t home. Only having been inside the dark scarlet room twice, the night of the party and the second was when they showed you the cabinet full of dragon eggs. You sauntered over, your Versace pumps clicking against the marble floor as you walked across the corridor to the other end of the grand staircase. You rested your hand upon the gold handle for a moment, looking back to your rooms once more— they wouldn’t know — you pushed the handle open.

The strong scent of mahogany and vanilla filled your nostrils, you once more looked to your rooms and the the floor below through the trim railings to check for Mrs Stone before slowly closing the door behind, wincing at the gentle thud as it latched close. You turned, the thick maroon and sheer white curtains pulled, the only glow in the room came from the heated egg chambers. You happily trotted over, squatting down to admire them once more.

“Hello dragons.” You mused, petting the egg from the outside, finger dragging against the warm glass. “Will you hatch? Maybe one crack…” you spoke to the white egg with gold scales “no? Please?”

What pulled you from your adoration gleam upon the dragons was the quiet but very apparent whines echoing in the room. You looked around the living space, finding nothing as you stood in confusion and stood straight. Walking towards your left to Rhaenyra walk-in-closet. The moment you stepped in, the soft vanilla smell of her perfume became more apparent. Her closet far bigger than yours, shelves covered with glass doors and quaint vanity at the end of the room. The centre island filled with jewels, rubies, gold, a very distinct dark metal necklace with rubies laid on a plush velvet holder. Valyrian steel, just like Daemon and Rhaenyra’s signet rings.

You looked at the vanity, eyeing the perfect scarlet to match your skin tone and the dress. You pout your lips to swipe the colour across your lips before looking side to side, a little messy without lip liner but just to mess around? This would have to do, you wiped around the corners of your mouth before making sure everything was placed right back where the belong before leaving.

Again, you were graced with whimpers, you were sure they were there. You should have left, you knew you should have. However your curiosity are at your as you ventured further to their bedroom, and then it was. The source of the whimpers, a tied redheaded woman, heaving with the gag shoved in her mouth. Her hands chained to the brass ringlet mounted to the wall, the second she say you her shoulders slumped as she blinked her tears away. Then she gestured her head to the chains, you gulped - fuck, what the hell had you stumbled into - you walked forward bending to her eyes, worried for the poor thing.

You pulled the tape from her mouth, cries pouring through in relief. She had dried blood running down her neck, chipping against her skin. She sniffled her cries to try and halt them.

“Ho- how long have you been here.” She hiccuped, seeing a glimmer of hope for survival in you

“Two months…” you looked to her chapped lips “do you need water?”

She furiously nodded as you stood up, tiptoeing across to your room to not alert Mrs Stone as your grabbed your pink cup and sprinted back with your skirt hiked up.

You bent by her head again, holding the straw to her lips and letting her drink, her hair was in a messy braid, the stray hairs clinging to her skin and her skin ghostly pale. You pulled two tissues from the tissue box on the side table and wet it with the water from your cup. Gently rubbing away the dried blood.

“We have to leave!” She croaked “why haven’t you run?”

“Run? I live here now, with Daemon and Rhaenyra. This is my home.” You monotonically replied, still wiping away at the blood, your heart mildly thudding. Not for her, she shouldn’t be here.

She was in their room, chained by their bed. You weren’t even allowed in here. Your heart thud louder as you rubbed away “we can never leave.”

“No! You don’t understand, we can run…” she huffs “I counted steps and you— you know this place. Please! Untie me, we can go.” More tears fell from her eyes as she pleaded with you.

You looked back to the door before reaching for her cuffs, that heaviness in your chest returning as you unhooked the bonds for the ringlet and started pulling at the chains.

“What do you think you are doing?” Rhaenyra’s stern voice spoke up from behind you.

Your blood froze as you slowly turned to face, “uh- I— she,” your words began to fail you.

“Get away from her.” Rhaenyra commanded, pointing at the bed for you to go sit on the bed.

A hard glare fixated itself within the purple of her eyes as she swiftly tied up the red haired woman again.

“Was she letting you go, sweetie.” Rhaenyra asked the girl, petting away her hair and you frowned harder. You’re her sweetie. The girl nodded, making Rhaenyra tut before turning to you. Her eyebrows quirk, awaiting an explanation.

You looked at your fiddling finger on your lap, unable to muster up an answer as she came to hold up your jaw. She was disappointed, you could see it in her eyes.

“What was the rule?” Rhaenyra questioned, she should have known your curiosity would kill you soon. Mostly she was worried that you would be terrified of her now.

“Don’t go to your room.” You whispered, still trying to look away.

Hmm

“You just had to play dress up that badly, huh?” she stroked her thumb across your cheek. “Let’s play dress up then.”

You sat on your knees, moving your weight uncomfortably.

“Don’t be scared.” Rhaenyra had whispered, forcing your to look at her, your head went blank for a moment and then your heart wasn’t thudding as hard anymore

All you could here were the placated whimpers from the red-haired girl sitting on Rhaenyra’s lap as she fed on her. Not a drop of blood trickled down as she controlled the flow of the girl’s blood through the carotid. Jealously was burning at your throat as Rhaenyra took her time leisurely feeding on this girl, she only fed like that on you. You were all pouty, however you couldn’t look away if you knew what was best for you.

Rhaenyra had dressed you throughly, after ripping through your red gown, she had pushed a cabinet to open. Pulling out a red collar to wrap around you neck, she had cherry lubed your ass, pushing in a plush red kitten tail butt plug into your hole and then promptly pulling onto it to tease you. Clamps with kitten bells on them had been pinching on your nipples as she sucked them hard before sliding them on. Your horror was when she flicked her tongue against your clit just the way you liked it to have you squirming and then clamped the little bud over the hood. The kitten bell adding just enough weight for it to remain dangling in between your legs.

You wanted to call out to her, beg her to feed from you instead but you couldn’t. You focused so hard on the way her lips’s suckled around the girl’s skin. There were tears rolling down your red hot cheeks.

Rhaenyra pushed the girl off her, she was still conscious but too weak to break her fall as she laid flat with a thud.

“Come here kitty,” she motioned her fingers towards you. “Come to Mommy baby.”

You moved to stand but she stopped you, “Crawl to me.”

You placed your palms flat against the plush rug, crawling over to the space in between Rhaenyra’s legs without giving the barely moving girl’s body laid on the other side of the floor. The bells clamped to you jingled as you inched forward, longing to bury your head in between her thighs.

You stopped in between her thighs, glancing up at her through your lashes, your glossy red lips just begging to be kissed and bitten. You were about to rest your head on her thigh but she pushed you back with her heeled foot.

“Lick my heels, kitty.” she smiled, tapping her other foot on the ground.

You waited for a moment before bending down, your pink tongue poking out and licking a strip through the pencil-thin heel of her red-bottom shoes. You hummed, kissing the heel. Taking your sweet time to show her how sorry you were. She tapped your cheek with her other foot, letting you switch over and lick up the covered foot and then her heel.

Rhaenyra pulled you up by the hair, admiring the lengths you had gone to play your little dress up game before. The red bows in your hair would have Daemon feral and she knew the perfect way to coax her husband back home early. She reached down to pinch both your nipples as she pulled you up to your feet, you yelped, the sting radiating through your tits as you gave her the pouted lips once more.

She stood to push you down where she sat, taking a moment to admire the mess you were soon to be before flicking her middle onto your pouted lips, they wouldn’t work this time. The connectable cuffs laying idle around your wrists and ankles were just waiting to be used as Rhaenyra pulled you to the edge of the bed. You scent of gleaming cunt making her impatient as she hooked each of your ankles to your wrists, forcing you to keep your legs spread open.

“Now— you’ve been bad.” She began, shuffling down to pick up the forgotten flogger in her hands.

“I’m sorry Mommy.” You whimpered the second you saw her stroking through the ropes of the flogger.

“Ah- ah kitties don’t talk baby,” she tutted, reminding you of the plug situated in your asshole as she gently pulled on the plug to stroke the tail. “Use that dumb baby brain of yours and tell me, what do kitties do?”

The humiliations burned through your chest, more tears welling in your eyes but what other alternative did you have?

“Meow?” you asked, hoping to appease her enough to weasel your way out of this predicament.

“Good girl!” She praised before swatting the flogger sharp against your ass. Your help bringing her much joy.

“Let’s see—“ she rubbed the sore skin of your ass “Mommy will strike you ten times, and you will count? You can count kitty? Can’t you?”

You nodded your head, sniffling.

“Good, let’s begin then.”

The first hit landed against your ass, your body stiffened as you whimpered. “O-one.” You stammered.

Another immediate strike radiated through your rear, much harder—a penalty. You made mistake. “Kitties do not talk.” She reiterated.

“Meow.” You sobbed.

The lashes came one after the other, Rhaenyra had enough sympathy in her heart to soothe the sore flesh with her palm as she waited for you to mewl out your kitten count before striking harder than the one before. The last one, you screamed. Legs shuddering from the pain as your cried out the last count. Face covered in mascara tears and snot as you lamented the ache on your ass, the tips of the flogger curling bitterly around you curves to cover the expanse of your skin. Some cruelly being landed right onto your cunt, the fourth one making your squirt from the pain.

Rhaenyra sighed, dropping the flogger and reaching for her phone in her trouser pocket. The sight of your reddened, blue ass was sure to be a ticket home for Daemon.

“Look here baby, pose for mommy.” she cooed, the frame perfectly capturing your tear-soaked face, your sopping cunt and your bruised ass. Even the little red ribbons in your hair leaking from behind made it in, along with the tail hanging over the edge of your bed. Your swollen little clamped nub also waiting to say hello to Daddy. She smiled to herself as she sent the live picture to Daemon before tossing her phone to the armchair.

She was nowhere near done with breaking you apart just yet.

She pulled out a vibrator next, hoping to reward you for taking your spankings like a good little girl. She reached up to the bed to place a pillow under your back to angle you to her liking before shuffling behind you, pulling you snugly between her legs. She unhooked the cuffs, holding onto your ankles as she freed them. You whimpered feeling the cramps in your hips.

“Shhh—you are fine kitten, no more pain for you.” She cooed, letting your legs fall before hooking her calves around them to keep them spread open.

She reached for the oh so yearning bud next, the worst of it all. Toying with the little bell as you yipped and flinched, she gently pulled it off. Letting the bundle of nerves fill but blood again, the filling pain had you crying out. Trying to bury yourself in Rhaenyra hold as she consoled you.

“Oh baby, so swollen look.” She curred, letting the pads of her fingers gently graze over the peaking flesh before pushing the hood behind.

She turned on the vibrator, the setting low as she pressed against your clit. You squirmed against her hold but to no avail. She tapped the vibrator on your bud. You still mewled, rubbing your hips into the cool object.

Even in the throb of your ass and the one very evident in your clit, your first orgasm tore through you out of nowhere.

“That’s it, good girl!” Rhaenyra praised as she pressed down the vibrator hard, switching the setting up higher.

Just as the waves of the first one washed over, dread-filled in your belly as Rhaenyra didn’t pull away. You cried harder, the oversensitive tingle in your bud began to knock the air out of your lungs. Clawing at your insides as you cleaned harder around nothing, wanting to beg her to stop, please mommy, you tapped at her thigh but she wouldn’t budge.

Rhaenyra knew you would break, you would speak. She didn’t want to hurt you more for violating another rule, finding the only solution for this and sticking two fingers into your mouth. Using it to gag you as she stroked your slimy tongue, your soft lips curled around her fingers as your muffled wails indicated your next peak.

This time you gushed around the vibrator, screaming from the back of your mouth as Rhaenyra pulled out her fingers to push open your hood further, letting those cruel vibrations focus on your weeping clit. You thrashed, shaking your head as the wave toppled you down, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching away from Rhaenyra Your entire body stiffened as the warmth engulfed you once more.

Rhaenyra turned off the toy, dropping it on the bed next to her as she held you through your orgasm. The pads of her fingers rubbing through your folds gently and circling around your throbbing clit. You still sobbed in her arms, unable to speak, you looked up at her. Vision blurred from tears as you cried, Rhaenyra kissed your temple as she pulled off the nipple clamps.

You shrieked as she rubbed them, soothing the pebbled flesh with the cool pads of her thumbs. So bitterly pinched and hardened.

You wept, letting Rhaenyra scoop you up into her lap; your head immediately burying itself into her chest as you wailed, she was rocking you, like a child grazing their knee upon she was soothing you with the rubs on your back.

You look up at her, still hiccuping through your sobs. She knew what you wanted, tracing the trembling bottom lip as she laid a peck on it.

“You can speak, baby.” She purred, her eyes long softened at the broken figure of yours.

“I- I’m sorry Mommy.” You pule, then again hiding your face in her chest.

Rhaenyra might have sat there for hours, rocking your shaking frame in her hands, humming a Valyrian lullaby to soothe your aching.

“Do I not make Daddy and you happy anymore?” You weakly mused, your fingers toying with the gold chain on Rhaenyra’s neck.

She frowned looking down at you before nudging her nose against your forehead to make you look up at her.

“What makes you say that?”

“She gets to stay with you at night,” you referred to the red-haired girl “You like feeding on her.”

“Oh, baby.” she cooed in a sing-song voice “She is just a midnight snack,” Rhaenyra explained. “Just like the candy bags in your room.”

You were still pouting, satiated with the answer but unhappy. You could still see her wrist laying on the floor, you looked away.

There was a longing, you needed to be sure. You lifted your wrist to her lips, looking at her pleadingly.

“You want me to feed on you?” Rhaenyra tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, a burst of triumph flared in her chest. The reasons to compel you into feeding seemed to have been fading.

“Please, Mommy.” You mumbled, shuffling further into her hold.

Rhaenyra took hold of your wrist, just grazing the poking nerve with her fangs as her eyes darkened, the nerves yet again pooling around her eyes, a terrifying sight to most but not to you. She hummed before sinking her fangs into the flesh. Fine caviar amongst the pretenders, she groaned at the sweet coppery taste of your blood. Watching over you as you closed your eyes, dozing in a soft slumber dancing across your eyes.

Phew… here’s another Rhaenyra focused chapter. I’m sorry if this is a bit much compared to my usually vanilla smut (minus the incest)

I’m giggling thinking of Daemon loosing his find over the picture of tied up and weeping Ms Blood Bag

comments and reblogs are appreciated.

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[sarahscribbles]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐚'𝐬 𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨…𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟒𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝟏𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The cut crystal glass in your hand was already half drained, but the deep burgundy liquid inside was still as warm as when you had picked it up and felt like Valhalla clasped between chilled fingertips. Obstinately - and foolishly you would now admit - you had ignored your mother’s advice to wear the soft satin gloves that perfectly complimented your gown, wishing to show off to anyone who looked in your direction the large ruby ring that your uncle had gifted you for Yule. It was a thing of beauty - a single large square stone set in three diamonds progressing in size on each side - but the frigid Ylir air had wrapped around your fingers like the hand of Hel herself when you had stepped from your carriage, almost instantly making you curse your vanity. 

In your mother’s own words, your vanity would be your downfall. 

It wasn’t as though you were hoping to catch the attention of a future husband - much to your mother’s neverending chagrin - but you did enjoy the envious glances that were thrown your way when you accessorised your finery with exquisite jewellery. Tonight was no different, and you had already lost count of the number of green eyed stares you had been on the receiving end of. Mixed with the roaring fire spitting and crackling behind you and the excellent food from the palace kitchens, it made throwing yourself on the mercy of the Asgardian winter worthwhile.

You took another small sip of wine, savouring the subtly sweet taste, and casually glanced around the Great Hall of the Royal Palace. The music had been playing ever since you had first arrived, but only a handful of couples were drifting around the dancefloor. Towering above them all, big and blonde and looking every inch the Crown Prince, was Thor. He held Sif in his arms and was moving completely out of time with the music, not that Sif even seemed to notice. She was looking at Thor with such affection - affection that was clearly obvious even with the vivid red mask concealing most of her face - that you couldn’t stop a genuine smile from crossing your own. Feeling the weight of your gaze, Thor eventually glanced up in your direction, breaking into a grin and waving at you over the heads of those around him. You raised a hand in silent greeting but made no move to cross the floor to them. Sif had been waiting for this night since Samhain. You weren’t about to ruin even a second of it for her. 

More couples steadily began to fill the large, open space of the floor - you even caught sight of Odin leading Frigga in a dance - and your feet were itching to join them, though you were also loathe to leave the comforting warmth of the roaring fire in the grate behind you. The chill from the carriage ride from the North District to the palace still hadn’t fully melted from your bones, but you would allow yourself only a further five minutes by the flames. After all, you hadn’t spent a small fortune on your gown to spend the night in the shadows. 

The glass in your hand now only contained the final dregs of wine and you glanced around the Hall for a passing servant, eager to free your hands for a night of dancing. With the crowd now thick with guests as the lesser nobility had filtered in, it was near impossible to catch sight of the dark brown uniforms of the palace staff, though even over the joyous melody of the music and the gentle murmur of the crowd one voice drifted easily and smoothly over it all.

“I specifically instructed the guards not to let any riff raff through the doors tonight.”

Loki. 

Still with your back to him, you rolled your eyes. “This was clearly after you bribed your way in then?” you said, turning to give him a lazy glance. “Did they even recognise you outside Thor’s shadow?” 

You saw his lip twitch beneath the deep black silk of his mask and bit back a smirk. “I could ask the same of you. How did you manage to get in tonight without your father? You’re so irrelevant I sincerely doubt anyone in this room knows who you are without the Duke.”

It was a barb meant to cut, but it only had you laugh softly into your glass. You didn’t care for fame or notoriety, didn’t care that no one in Asgard outside the nobility likely knew your name. Your father was the Duke, the one who sat on Odin’s security council and was likely up to his eyes in the blood of innocents. You couldn’t care less if people didn’t make the connection between you and him. In fact, you almost welcomed it.

“Perhaps I prefer it that way. Not all of us crave the attention of strangers because daddy doesn’t love us.” You took a final sip of your wine, turning your eyes from him and back to the crowd gathered in front of you.

You swore you heard him hiss quietly through his teeth, but otherwise, he remained silent. There was little more than a foot between you both - the soft scent of cedarwood and patchouli filled your senses with every inhale - and you despised how your heart skipped at realising just how little space separated you from him. All you really had to do was reach out your fingers…

But you didn’t. Because it was Loki. He was your lifelong annoyance. 

And your greatest love. 

A man in brown uniform drifted past and you set your glass firmly on the tray he held aloft, eagerly scanning the crowd for the first person who would ask for your hand, something that Loki’s keen eyes didn’t miss. 

“Perhaps you would like to dance?” he asked. Behind the heavy sarcasm you almost swore you heard a genuine question. 

You cocked one eyebrow at him. “With you?” you replied, and adopted the sweetest smile you could. “I’d rather be Odin’s groom of the stool.” 

“We are feeling rather feisty tonight,” he replied instantly, a bite beginning to creep into his voice. 

“I blame it on the company I’m being forced to keep,” you shot back. Across the way, you caught the eye of some minor noble - all blonde and big muscle and so completely not your type - but you smiled coyly at him in invitation. He quickly began to weave through the crowd and you turned to Loki with a smug little grin. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend some time with someone who doesn’t turn my stomach.”

You didn’t pause to see his reaction, but let the man sweep you into his embrace and only half listened as he introduced himself as Frode. Up close, you realised that he wasn’t as handsome as you had first believed. Even with the mask, you noticed the deep, jagged scar that ran down his right cheek and when he smiled, you saw that he was missing a tooth. 

“A beautiful gown, my lady,” Frode commented, his voice rough and gravelly. You bristled when his eyes lingered a little too long on your cleavage. 

His hand was large and clammy in yours and you fought the urge to grimace as he clutched you. He didn’t possess the refined elegance you knew Loki would have shown if he had been the one turning you around the floor. A glance over Frode’s large shoulder showed Loki still with his eyes locked on you both, so you gave the man your most winning smile. 

“It suits the season! And compliments your own outfit perfectly!” you added, tracing a hand along his muscular upper arm while keeping Loki pinned in the corner of your eye. 

He still hovered along the edge of the floor, eyes glued to you and Frode, but standing a little more rigidly than when you had left him. You may have been able to convince yourself that he actually cared, but when Frode twirled you around in his direction again, Loki was nowhere to be seen. 

Desperately, you tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that echoed in your chest. 

Frode continued moving you both haphazardly around the floor, colliding with a few other guests and talking about the Norns knew what. You laughed when you needed to but otherwise failed to listen to a single word he said. You were too focused on trying to locate Loki in a sea full of guests. A difficult task given how he could master the art of being invisible in a crowd until he wanted to be seen. 

You were only half listening as Frode’s rough voice continued to drone on relentlessly. He could have been warning you about an imminent invasion from Midgard, or telling you of his perverted fantasies involving the Dark Elves, but you only gave him a simpering little laugh whenever there was a pause in the conversation. The man likely thought you were simple but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wanted nothing more than for the song to end so you could escape. Hel, you’d dance with Odin himself if it meant you could be free from Frode’s clammy grip and the stench of ale that seemed to permeate from his every pore.

How had this seemed like a good idea?

“The younger prince is headed this way,” Frode suddenly growled, his blue eyes growing dark while he tightened his grip on your hand. You fought the urge to yank it from his grip. “If I were Odin I’d cast the little runt out. What use is he to the Court?” 

The ghost of a smirk that appeared on his face indicated that he was waiting for you to agree or simply laugh at his remark, so it was entirely unexpected when the sole of your foot landed roughly on the tip of his boot. He abruptly relinquished his hold on you and his deep groan of pain caused a passing couple to look on in alarm. 

“My apologies, my lord!” you cried out, biting back a smile at the deep grimace of pain he still wore. “I do get very clumsy after a few glasses of wine! Are you well?”

A quiet rumble of laughter from behind told you Loki was now at your back and you ignored how inwardly pleased you were that he had seen the whole spectacle. 

“Perfectly!” Frode replied, sounding somewhat strained as he righted himself. 

The music had come to a sweeping end and he looked to you in silent expectation that you would join him for another dance, but Loki quickly interjected before he had the opportunity to speak. 

“You should rest, Bjørson. That looked like it hurt,” he said smoothly, and you saw Frode’s cheeks grow slightly pink. 

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” he practically spat out the words.

Loki hummed and outwardly looked completely unfazed, but his cool fingers wrapped around the bend of your elbow and sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. “Perhaps, but the lady promised her next dance to me,” he said quietly, the words sounding vaguely like a threat. 

“I did no such thing!” Instantly, you rounded on him, but for the life of you you didn’t know why. You’d sooner dance with anyone than return to Frode. 

Loki looked at you the way one would look at a child that’s said something mildly amusing. “Poor thing.” He clucked his tongue. “You’ve had so much to drink already that you can’t remember. Unsurprising, really, when daddy isn’t here to keep watch over you,” he taunted. 

Your cheeks were burning and you wanted nothing more than to rip his beautiful head from his shoulders, but you still let him lead you easily to the middle of the floor as the music began to play again. From the corner of your vision, you saw Frode stalk off towards the barrels of ale, begrudgingly accepting that he had been outranked. 

Loki’s grip on your elbow was firm and unyielding as he lead you further into the crowd, but you found that you didn’t want to give up the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how furiously the anger was bubbling inside you. “At least my father trusts me to socialise alone!” you snapped at him when he suddenly stopped. “Tell me, my prince, who has been charged with babysitting you tonight?” 

He didn’t bother to answer, only swung you into his arms so that you were pressed snug against his chest. “The brute looked like he wish to devour you. I should make you thank me for rescuing you,” he said, splaying his fingers possessively along your back and gripping your hand tightly in his.

You hated how you noticed every little detail about him. How he was holding you so tightly against him that you could feel the rigid planes of his stomach beneath his tunic and how it pressed into you with every breath he took. You noticed the shift of his shoulder blades beneath your fingers and how his eyes were the same shade of green as your favourite blanket draped across your bed. He was so solid and strong and fingers curled around yours so perfectly…

But you couldn’t think about that. He was your lifelong annoyance. 

“You won’t make me do anything,” you said sweetly as he turned you effortlessly around the floor. For a brief second, you were caught up in how perfectly his emerald green evening wear complemented your golden gown as it swirled around his feet, caught up in how perfect the two of you must no doubt look to anyone who may look your way. 

It was a shame, almost, that you were what you were. 

Loki’s lips twitched at your comment and his eyes darkened over as they held yours. A pleasant tingle thrummed between your thighs. “That sounds like a challenge, darling,” he purred, pulling you even tighter against him. He rested his cheek against your temple until his lips were grazing your ear. “And I do love a challenge.”

Your hand twitched only a fraction in his, but you knew Loki would catch a movement even that tiny. You prayed he hadn’t caught the sharp intake of breath or could feel the frantic pounding of your heart with how tightly you were pressed against him. He couldn’t know how his words only fanned the ferocious flame that was flickering between your thighs, or how badly you wanted him to press you against the nearest hard surface and have his way with you. 

You loathed him, yet you wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

“You’ll have to find someone else to challenge, my prince. I have no interest in second sons,” you replied, sounding steadier than you felt and desperately trying to ignore the feel of his firm thighs moving against yours.

How would they look kneeling between your spread legs? How would they feel beneath you as you straddled him?

Loki twirled you firmly around the floor, cocooning your legs in a twist of gold and making you briefly dizzy. “Is that so?” he purred. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I sought my pleasure in one of the lovely ladies or gentlemen here tonight.” 

Something twisted sharply in your gut, something that felt alarmingly like jealousy, but you refused to acknowledge it. You knew he’d had many partners - likely as many as you - but you had never before been so consumed with envy at those who had been his lovers, who had seen him in the throes of passion and had felt his hands wander over their skin. 

You refused to let it rise to the surface and kept your features as blissfully unaffected as possible. “Be my guest,” you replied simply, throwing a glance around the hall to signify just how much you didn’t care. “Lady Kari looks particularly beautiful tonight. Why don’t you carry her off to your dungeon?”

His lips twisted in a smirk and you knew he had caught the slight bite to your words. “Careful, darling. It’s beginning to sound like you would like me to carry you off,” he replied, his voice dripping with such smug self-assuredness that you wanted nothing more than to slap his perfect cheek.

Despite how much you absolutely didn’t want it, you allowed yourself the brief luxury of imagining what it would be like to be hoisted into his strong arms and flung upon his bed. How it would feel to have his lips claim every part of you, his hot breath fanning over your bare skin, the sound of his moans filling the quiet of the chamber…

But you didn’t want it. 

“I’d rather Frode take me in one of the servant's passageways. I’d rather one of the servants themselves take me in the passageways. You’re at the bottom of a very long list, my prince,” you threw back haughtily. 

Loki didn’t even blink. “As are you, darling,” he replied smoothly. The hand resting on your back pressed you closer, though there was barely a breath of space remaining between you both. 

You caught the familiar, musky scent of him with each inhale and resisted the temptation to bury your face in his chest and breathe him in. You could feel the silky strands of his hair brushing across the back of your hand and wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers in it. Briefly, you wondered if he enjoyed having it tugged…

Desire was written clearly on your face, you knew, and you were suddenly thanking Valhalla for the golden mask that partially shielded you from view. It gave you the chance to study him, but even behind the half covering of silk his face remained as passive as ever, though when the music once again began to come to an end, you didn’t fail to notice how his hand remained firmly against your back.

“Good,” you said primly. “Then we understand each other.”

The smile he gave you in return was nothing short of wolfish and emerald eyes narrowed behind black obsidian. “Oh, I believe we understand each other perfectly,” he murmured, holding your gaze as the music ended and he brought your hand to his lips. 

It was an act of chivalry you would have expected of any gentleman you danced with tonight, but with Loki it felt strangely intimate, as though he were showing you a part of himself that he kept firmly locked away. His lips lingered just long enough for you to appreciate how warm and soft they were against your skin, long enough for you to imagine how they might feel elsewhere, and then, without another word, he left your side to melt easily into the crowd of guests. Like a shadow in the dead of night, he quickly disappeared, leaving you with a thundering heartbeat and an ever increasing tingling between your thighs. 

How desperately you loathed him.

Before you had the chance to begin scanning the crowd in search of him you were quickly pulled into another dance. He was a great hulk of a man with muscles to rival Thor’s and, you would admit, he was attractive, even behind the royal blue mask that concealed half of his face.

“Hagen, my lady,” he introduced himself with a broad smile that revealed perfectly straight white teeth. 

You smiled in acknowledgment, told him your name, and only half listened as he chattered on, your attention firmly on locating Loki. It was no easy feat given the sea of people who were twirling around the hall, and only made that much harder with the addition of decorative masks, but you finally did catch sight of him through an eventual parting of the crowd. He was also dancing again, only this time his partner was a vapid little thing who didn’t appear to have a single thought behind her eyes.

A fresh surge of searing jealousy, sudden and entirely unexpected, swept through you like a winter storm. You didn’t even know her name or where in Asgard she hailed from, didn’t recall seeing her on any previous occasions, yet here she was gazing at Loki with big doe eyes that made you want to slap her childish little face. 

Hagen hadn’t noticed your sudden distraction and continued twirling you around the Great Hall until it felt like you were inside a kaleidoscope, but you never once lost sight of Loki, pinning him with your gaze like a predator in the final moments of the hunt. When he felt your molten gaze burning into him, he glanced over the ornately decorated head of the girl in his arms, and, to your absolute fury, he winked.

It was as quick as the space between heartbeats and he was turning away again as though it had never happened, but already your blood had been set aflame. With renewed vigour you turned your attention back to Hagen, smiling and simpering like a fool and laughing at every comment like it were the funniest thing you had heard in centuries. His eyes lit up and he immediately began retelling a story of some battle he had been involved in decades ago.

“...and at the end of it all, I pushed the poor soul into a barrel of mead head first! He screamed like a pig caught in the mud until he realised it had been long drained by his own hand!” he finished a few minutes later, eagerly scanning your face for approval. 

The laugh you forced was so loud and so obviously fake that a few couples twirling by gazed intently your way. You didn’t care. With Hagen so distracted by winning your approval, he hadn’t noticed how you had managed to manipulate his movements across the floor, having glided effortlessly through the crowd until you were within touching distance of Loki and the preened little poodle in his arms. He noticed you instantly, but you steadfastly ignored the smirk that flicked across the face and gave Hagen the full force of your attention. 

Surprisingly, it worked. 

The longer you ignored Loki the more he tried to catch your attention. Every expert twirl perfectly in time with the music had his half concealed face turn towards you, green eyes sparkling as he hoped to see you looking back at him. It was entertaining, almost, to watch him desperately seek the attention you refused to give him. 

Hagen remained the sole focus of your attention as you waited, waited for the perfect moment to do what you had guided him half way across the Great Hall to do. Loki twirled around again until the girl in his arms faced you - though not without throwing another glance towards you to see if he finally had your attention - and when you got close enough, you subtly kicked a foot out from under your gown to catch her ankle, sending her stumbling forward until Loki caught her fall. She gave you a look of pure, unadulterated outrage, but you only smiled sweetly at her.

“Oh, I am sorry! I’ve lost my footing a little after that third glass of wine!” you called over your shoulder as Hagen continued to whisk you through the crowd, not missing the tiny grin growing on Loki’s lips.

With satisfaction casting a warm glow through your chest you let Hagen continue to twirl you around the floor until the music again began to slow. Over his broad shoulder, you caught sight of Loki, still with that dull little thing in his arms, and you grinned. Letting one hand slide suggestively down Hagen’s upper arm, you held Loki’s gaze while you whispered in his ear. All you had said was “I’d like to go outside,” but, coupled with a light laugh and Hagen’s hand dropping an inch lower on your back, it was enough to make Loki’s expression darken. 

You saw the instant deep frown and set of his strong jaw, saw his brief apology to the girl he had been dancing with, and he was quickly striding across the hall with purpose. Something deep in your stomach twisted with excitement.

He was before you both in a matter of seconds, towering over Hagen and staring at the man with cold eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to impose, but I must steal the lady from you,” Loki said, his voice perfectly calm and collected. 

Hagen’s fingers tightened around your waist and you fought the overwhelming urge to grin. You could feel him bristle, could feel the clouds of an almighty argument begin to darken the spiced air of the Great Hall as he stared Loki down. Even with half his face obscured behind a mask of black obsidian, you could read his intense displeasure in the set of his jaw and in the dangerous glint in his green eyes.

You turned to give your thanks to Hagen for his dance - a dance you had surprisingly enjoyed - but before the first syllable had even crossed your lips, Loki had twirled you out of his grip so swiftly that your skirts twisted around your ankles in a quiet whisper and you clamped a hand on his velvet clad arm in order to stay steady. 

Or that’s what you told yourself. 

Once righted, and with your hands tucked securely within the folds of your gown, you became very aware of the firm solidness of his chest against your shoulder, almost shivering at the feel of the soft material of his evening wear brushing enticingly against your exposed skin. It was a teasing reminder that all that separated you from him was tulle and velvet. 

Your fingers twitched at your sides. 

On your left, Hagen was making his irritation known, but his voice was nothing but a dull drone in the near distance, comparable to the incessant buzzing of a fly on a warm summer evening. Your focus had long since drifted from him, shifting solely to the feel of Loki’s curls ghosting gently against the base of your neck. 

The familiar intoxicating scent of him - cedarwood and patchouli and something vaguely sweet - washed over you once more, so inviting that you wished you could drown in it.

His warm breath fanned against the skin below your ear, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. “With me, darling. Now.” The words were uttered so quietly, so dangerously in your ear that your heart sped up like a wild hare darting through a spring meadow. Resisting him would be pointless.

“Of course, my prince,” you replied sweetly, a thin layer of coyness wrapping around each word.

Without another word, he placed a firm, heavy hand on the curve of your waist, expertly weaving you both through the sea of colourfully clad guests. His imposing stature, coupled with the displeased scowl that not even his mask could hide, cleared an easy path through the hall until the vast mahogany doors leading to the balcony grew before you.

Perhaps it was the third glass of mead you’d knocked back not too long ago, or perhaps you were merely feeling playful at finally being cornered, but in the final few feet before the heavy wooden doors were right in front of you, you made a weak attempt to twist out of Loki’s firm grip. You were met with a firm curl of his fingers into the soft silk of your gown to keep you tight against his side, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it. 

His boots continued to hit the floor with rhythmic thuds, each step bringing you closer to the balcony doors and sending a shot of pure adrenaline shooting through your blood. You worked to keep up with him, taking two steps for each one of his, and when the double doors were right in front of you, you feared the purpose underlying Loki’s every step would have you both collide with them. At the very last minute a shimmer of vibrant emerald green, emanating from both everywhere and nowhere, pushed the magnificent double doors open, allowing Loki to guide you both through them without so much as a pause in his stride. His hand remained firmly on your back as he lead you onto the wide, open space of the sandstone balcony and when you shivered, it had nothing to do with the coolness of the night air. 

The quiet thud of the doors sounded behind you and the sudden shift in the energy betrayed how Loki was using his magic again, though for what you had no idea. Slow, lazy steps carried you away from him, the quiet click of your heels against the smooth stone floor being the only sound filling the quiet as you reached the intricately carved stone of the balcony. Guests trickled around the gardens below, enjoying the seasonal display of flowers that Frigga had so lovingly cultivated and admiring the small orbs of light that floated just out of their reach, each one appearing like a snow flake that had been frozen mid fall. You would never not be captivated by the effort that the Allmother placed in making the palace look magical no matter what the occasion. 

In your brief distraction admiring the grounds Loki still hadn’t spoken, and when you turned quickly to look at him, he was still standing silently by the double doors. His black mask was still on, but it didn’t obscure the glint of raw hunger shining in his eyes as they rested on you. You felt your heart speed up and swallowed thickly, practically vibrating with the anticipation of what you knew was about to come. Loki remained watching you, appearing to search for some small sign or signal.

Your silent, knowing grin was all it took.

Four large strides, silent as the night, brought him swiftly towards you. The black mask was ripped easily from his face before his strong arms were around you to pull you tight against his chest, his lips crashing down onto yours with such fierceness that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You returned it easily, parting your lips to meet his tongue with your own and tangling your hand blissfully into his black curls. 

They were softer than you even imagined. 

The kiss was deep and frantic, as though the whole world around you both was going up in flames and the last thing you both would ever do was taste each other. Without breaking away, Loki walked you backwards until you collided with the smooth stone, both arms tightening around you until you were all but crushed between the smooth surface of the balcony and his warm chest. 

You were lost in him, lost to him. The feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him; it was everything you had imagined it would be and more. 

The fingers of his right hand drifted from where they had been clasping the base of your neck to untie the silken ties of your mask, letting it fall away like smoke in the wind. He pressed you tighter against him and you moaned quietly against his lips. You felt him smile against your mouth, an innocent gesture that was quickly followed by a roll of his hips against yours, letting you feel just how badly he wanted you.

His lips left yours and you fought to contain a whine at the sudden absence of him. “Touch me,” he murmured between shallow pants, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I am touching you,” you replied, bringing a hand to rest against his cheek, You knew what he was asking, of course, but you kept your hand firmly on his cheek. 

Loki lifted his forehead from yours and you could see the fire blazing in his green eyes, a burning, searing flame of desire for you. He pulled your hand from his cheek and guided it down to rest on the prominent bulge in his leather trousers. 

“Touch me,” he repeated softly. 

You twisted your free hand into his hair, using it as leverage to guide him back to your lips. With the other, you teasingly stroked the outline of his cock, palming him firmly while his lips continued claiming yours. He groaned deeply into your mouth, sending a flutter between your thighs, and pulled back from your kiss once again. 

“Your hand feels so much better than my own, darling,” he half moaned into the darkness. 

“Oh?” You smirked and pulled your hand back. “Then maybe I should make you beg for it.” 

Something in his eyes darkened and he curled two fingers under your chin to hold your gaze. “Darling, I can assure you that I won’t be the one begging tonight.”

The confidence of his words, the suggestion dripping like honey from every syllable, sent a rush of heat surging through you. Your gaze dropped to his lips, kiss swollen and stained a faint crimson red from your lipstick. It was barely noticeable under the pale moonlight, but it still made something in your stir, as though that delicate sheen of red was your mark on him.

A warning to everyone else that he was yours. 

Your fingers still resting at the base of his neck curled into his soft skin, sharp nails scratching him gently and sending a slight shiver down his spine. “Kiss me again,” you said, not caring about the faint rasp that now edged your words. 

Loki laughed quiet and low, the sound a soft rumble in the quiet of the night. “An excellent start,” he purred, not giving you a second to even glare at him before his lips were back on yours, kissing you just as frantically as before. It was as though that first kiss had shown him what he had been missing and now he wouldn’t be sated until he tasted every inch of you. 

You welcomed the warm force of his mouth against yours once more, locking your arms around his neck while your hands scrambled for purchase on the rich velvet of his tunic. You couldn’t get close enough. The force of his renewed assault made your back hit the smooth curved stone of the balcony so hard that for a second you were briefly bent over it. While your hands were tangling in his hair - and you were delighting in the quiet growl of appreciation that came from your experimental tug - his were frantically bunching the golden skirts of your gown around your hips, all the while still kissing you like you were his only source of oxygen.

The cool night air wrapped instantly around your bare legs but did nothing to ease the searing burn of arousal pulsing in your core. Loki’s fingers trailed over your thighs and you whined into his mouth, the barest hint of his touch lighting tiny fires beneath your skin and making you crave him like rain in a drought. One strong hand rested against your stomach to secure layers of golden tulle out of his way while the other dipped between your thighs to run a finger firmly over your cunt through the thin layer of your underwear. You rocked your hips against it, already desperately seeking more, and he gently nipped your bottom lip. 

“Something wrong, pet?” he asked, pulling back from your kiss but still running his finger tormentingly along the length of your cunt. 

It was such a simple action, but you felt the sharp tendrils of pleasure right down to your knees. It wasn’t enough. “Need more,” you said, still attempting to grind down against his finger. 

“Oh?” Loki replied, cocking one perfect eyebrow at you. You felt him slide his finger to the side of your underwear, using it to pull them aside and run it lightly through your slick folds. “Is this enough?”

It felt good, it felt almost blindingly good, but it wasn’t enough. You needed his cock, needed him to fill you to the brim and fuck you so hard that you felt it for days. You needed to feel him spill inside you and claim you completely as his.

 Because you were. 

You had always been his. 

“No,” you breathed out, fingers digging firmly into the back of his neck in an effort to ground yourself. The other rested low on his hip, slowly snaking around to cup his ass through the soft black material. 

You heard his quick intake of breath and saw the exact moment his eye darkened with fresh, undiluted lust. “Good.” It was almost a growl. “Because I’m losing what little self control I have left.” 

His hand retracted from between your thighs and an immediate complaint was dancing on the tip of your tongue, until both rested back on your hips, stealing the breath from your lungs with the sudden surprise of being swiftly turned and bent over the balcony edge. Yards of tulle fell in a sweeping whisper to cover your legs, only to be just as quickly bunched back up in his hands. This time he folded them back carelessly onto your back, leaving you almost fully on display for him. 

His cool fingers rested around the curve of your hips, the silken pads of his thumbs tracing tiny circles along your exposed skin. “Beautiful, darling,” he murmured behind you, no hint or trace of mockery in his voice.

Your witty reply melted into a sigh of contentment when his hands moved to ghost over the swell of your ass and you felt him kneel between your legs. Teasingly, his hands ran down the backs of your thighs, long fingers dancing so close to where you ached for him, had ached for him for centuries. 

“Loki…” His name was barely a whisper into the blackness of the night and was chased swiftly by a quiet moan when you felt his teeth hook into the band of your underwear. 

You could almost hear the smirk on his face as he expertly pulled them down your legs, the gentle rub of his nose against your skin having your fingers curl against the sandstone. They were quickly pooling around your ankles and Loki was just as easily ripping them away and tossing them aside. 

You yelped when his teeth then sank into the flesh of your ass.

“So responsive, darling,” he purred while getting to his feet, the cool tips of his fingers running soothingly over the area he had just bitten. “I wonder what other little noises I can get you to make for me.” 

“Why don’t you fuck me and we’ll find out.” You had meant it as an attempt to goad him, to infer that he could have what he wanted if he would just fuck you, but the sharpness of your tone and the obvious pleading behind it betrayed nothing but your own impatience to have him inside you.

Something that, of course, Loki didn’t miss. “I told you I wouldn’t be the one begging tonight, didn’t I?” he taunted, a firm hand creeping beneath the layers of tulle to lie against the naked skin of your back. “Say please.” 

The swell of pleasure between your thighs at his quiet command was instant, but you fought to ignore it and remained stubbornly quiet if only to see what your refusal to answer would make him do. Below you, guests continue to mill around in the gardens, their quiet laughter and conversation drifting upwards on a phantom breeze. They were only a matter of metres below and if any decided to turn their gaze upwards towards the palace, little would stop them from seeing you bent over the balcony with Loki between your legs. The thought alone had you swallowing a moan.

Loki clicked his tongue quietly, his fingers dipping back between your thighs to teasingly stroke your cunt. This time, you couldn’t prevent the curse that slipped from your lips at how good his fingers felt. “Say please,” he repeated.

Stubbornly, you continued to try and hold your silence, but the steady ripples of pleasure he was granting you had you desperate for more within a short matter of seconds. “Please! Please, Loki!” you eventually cracked, the wet need between your thighs surpassing any desire to press his buttons.  

He slapped your ass just hard enough for you to feel a sting. “Good girl,” he said, and you heard the quiet shuffle as he freed himself from his trousers. “Do you know how often I touch myself to the idea of you begging for me?” he continued, lazily dragging the tip of his cock through your dripping cunt, coating himself with your arousal. 

The sound that tumbled from your lips was so lewd that you felt your cheeks flame, and you dropped your head low between your shoulders at the exquisite torture that he was subjecting you to. Over and over he dragged his cock through your folds, each time stopping just short of hitting your clit, so teasingly short that eventually, you began to squirm.

“Loki…please…,” you repeated, now freely giving him what he wanted in a voice practically hoarse with desire.

The languid roll of his hips came to a sudden stop, but his cock remained firmly against your cunt. “You sound so lovely when you beg, darling, I’m tempted to not give you what you want,” he taunted. “But I’ve waited too long to have you.” 

“Then, for the love of Yggdrasil, take me!” you all but screamed at him, the unrelenting ache between your legs crying out for release. 

At your plea, he curled one hand around the curve of your hip and with the other aligned himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by beautiful inch until he had filled you to the brim. He stretched you beautifully and you briefly lost the ability to speak while you adjusted to his size. It was nothing short of exquisite. 

When he got comfortable and began to roll his hips steadily into you, both hands now gripping your hips like a vice, you saw the remnant wisps of emerald green in the night air. Likely, Loki had cast come illusion to conceal you both from the guests still wandering below.

Something you had no doubt you would be thankful for in a short matter of minutes. 

Already, his cock was brushing wondrously against that sweet spot inside you, having your toes curl in your shoes. His hands held your hips in a punishing grip that you knew would leave bruises the following morning, and a stream of moans - the most glorious sound you had ever heard - tumbled freely from his lips with each thrust. Loud, forceful moans that you were sure could be heard from the gardens down below, but no one so much as glanced towards the balcony where you both stood. 

Then it hit you. The soft whirls of green magic had been a silencing charm. 

For the first time in your long life, you were saying a silent thanks to Loki. 

“Fuck, Loki!” you cried out, feeling as though a weight had been lifted to allow you to vocalise your pleasure. “You feel so good!” 

You were close to losing yourself in the pleasure, to let it wash over you while you screamed to Valhalla, but two quiet voices from below drifted up softly to your ears and made you go rigid. 

“Did you hear that?” A deep male voice asked. “Someone with Prince Loki, perhaps?” 

“I saw the Prince inside a few moments ago. It’s likely someone else,” another answered, sounding incredibly bored. 

Loki’s arm looped around your middle, pulling you upright and tight against his chest. “You’ll have to be quiet, darling, unless you want the attention of all those guests on this balcony. What would they think if they could hear you, hmm? Perhaps that you’re here pleasuring yourself to the thought of me?” he whispered lowly in your ear. 

A groan bubbled low in your throat, one that you fought valiantly to contain. “But…you’ve…you’ve been moaning like a whore and no one has spared a second glance!” you said. 

His teeth sunk into your earlobe, pulling gently and making you go near limp in his arms. “Oh, dear. Did I forget to place that silencing charm over you? I do apologise, darling,” he purred, sounding anything but sorry. “I hope you can stay quiet.” He punctuated his sentence with a firm, forceful thrust that made you bite your lip to contain a cry. 

It melted into a whimper with each continued plunge of his cock into your cunt. You could feel every inch of him as he moved, each drag only sending ripples of building pleasure washing over you. While he kept one strong arm locked securely around your waist to anchor you to him, the other was effortlessly gathering up layers of gold to dip his hand beneath and find your clit.

It was almost your undoing. 

He could play your body like a violin and the unbroken rhythm his fingers played on your clit had you clamping down hard on his arm to contain shameless moans. Your head dropped back against his shoulder and your free hand desperately curled around his thigh in an effort to do something, anything, to channel the burning waves of pleasure crashing through you under his touch. He continued thrusting roughly into you, continued moaning and cursing freely right by your ear, all the while your nails were digging so hard into the top of his thigh you feared you might draw blood, all in the effort of having to stay quiet.

You wanted to scream his name to Valhalla, wanted to curse and scream in the face of the pleasure he was bringing you, yet all you could do was grip him like he was a liferaft and grind shamelessly against his fingers.

It was blissful torture. 

Blissful torture that he had seemed in no rush to end.

A thin sheen of sweat was forming along your hairline from both the effort of staying quiet and the brazen way in which you were rolling your hips against his hand. You wanted the release more than anything you had ever wished for before, wanted Loki to be the reason you came completely undone, and with the way he was playing your body as though it had been made for him, it wouldn’t take long until you saw stars.

His breathing was coming hard and fast in your ear, his warm breath hitting you in time with every thrust. “I thought you wanted this, darling?” he taunted you. “I can’t hear any sounds of pleasure coming from you. Perhaps you’d prefer it if I stopped?” he asked, dropping his hand from your cunt and slowing down his frantic thrusts until he was doing nothing but languidly rolling his hips into you.

Your hips arched into the balcony in a fruitless attempt at chasing his hand and you turned your head against his jaw, almost panic stricken at the threat. “No, please!” you begged him. “Please don’t stop!”

The satisfied smirk crossed his face instantly. “Then you need to let me know how good I’m making you feel,” he said and turned his head so his lips were just brushing the crown of your head. “Because I’m not letting you come until I can hear you.”

“Loki…,” you whined pitifully. 

He ignored you, instead returning his fingers to play with your swollen clit and beginning to forcefully thrust his cock back into you. “You better start singing for me, darling.” 

You cursed his name to Hel, but you were teetering so close to that wonderful freefall into pleasure that you sang easily for him, letting his name tangle with sharp breathy moans as he pushed you steadily towards release. 

You were so blissfully close when his hand unfurled from your waist to sharply slap your ass again. “Louder,” he growled, his hips now colliding repeatedly with yours as the wet sound of sex filled the quiet of the night. 

Clammy hands fell to brace against the smooth stone of the balcony while his cock hit that sweet spot over and over, and his long fingers only pushed you right to the teetering edge. You moaned for him, you whined and whimpered for him, squeezing your eyes shut so as not to see the looks of shock and open disgust on the faces of those below as he sent you soaring over the edge, his name ripped from your throat in a scream as you saw stars. 

His thrusts were erratic, his grip on you bruising as he chased his high. Your name was the only sound he could make as he spilled inside you, claiming you completely as his. His arm returned to loop around your waist and pull you back against him, all while he continued plunging into you, not allowing a single drop of his seed to go to waste. 

“Mine,” he growled in your ear, giving a final few shuddering thrusts of his cock before going still. 

You were boneless in his arms, panting loudly and falling forward to desperately grip the balcony in the wake of your release. You didn’t dare open your eyes, couldn’t make yourself open them and see the gaze of so many people who had watched you tumble into pleasure in the open like a common harlot. Your stomach began to turn at the thought. 

“Open your eyes, darling,” Loki encouraged gently, still inside you and still claspiing you tightly to him. 

After a brief hesitation, you slowly cracked them open, only to see the guests down below still in conversation amongst themselves, not a single face turned in the direction of the balcony. Instantly, you calmed.

“Do you really believe I’d do that to you,” Loki murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck. “They didn’t hear or see a thing. I promise you.” 

You released a breath and laughed at your own stupidity. Of course he wouldn’t. “You…are an asshole,” you said, still panting. 

He hummed against your neck. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “And perhaps later you’ll punish me for it,” he said, licking a light stripe up your neck. 

You closed your eyes again, allowing yourself to bask in his affections and at the surety that there was so much more yet to come. “Perhaps I will.”

Tags: @sailorholly @joyful-enchantress @muddyorbs @ozymdias @fandxmslxt69 @trickster-maiden @lokixryss @silverfire475 @wolfsmom1 @lokisgoodgirl @cake-writes @vickie5446 @lokidbadguy @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @all-envy-suyu @erynion-rogueofthegreenwoods @gortycs @katehawke @123forgottherest @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @peanutbutter-y-jams @wintermischief @gigglingtigger

[historiaxvanserra]

Azriel and throat fucking please

Throat fucking | Azriel

This is like two months late but I'm not really a smut writer (I do try). I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent 2k 'drabble'. Totally unedited so if you see a mistake-- no you didn't!

You’ve been gathered around the table in your brother’s office for the better half of an hour when he hangs his head low with frustration. His shoulders go lax as he reclines against the office chair and releases a long sigh as he looks between you and Azriel pointedly. 

“Mother above,” Rhysand implores as he buries his head in his hands,  “Get out of my sight.”

You turn to Azriel expectantly with a look of cool indifference on your face. When he does not move you raise a brow to him expectantly. Azriel only shrugs coldly before burying his hands in his pockets and slipping through the half-open door. His shadows leave an inky trail in his wake. 

You wait for a moment in the silence as Rhysand relaxes to his usual casual self before speaking. 

“I don’t know why you insist on pairing me with that barbarian.” You say digging your heels into the plush carpet as your brother resumes his paperwork. 

“I meant it,” He says feigning boredom as he looks up from the stack of papers, “get out of my sight.” 

Rhysand’s violet eyes glint with slight amusement as he regards you again, turning on your heel to leave the same way Azriel had moments ago.

The hallway is dark and the moonlight shines through the windows casting the house in opal moonglow, save for the wisps of dark that linger around the hall. The remnants of Azriel’s presence. 

You watch as they take flight morphing and changing as the light of the moon is veiled by the clouds and dispersing again. They seem to regard you with a quiet curiosity, ghosting the skin of your arms and becoming entangled in the waves of your unbound hair. 

They whisper to you in a language that you can not begin to understand-- dark and ancient. 

You wonder if they speak to Azriel too. You wonder what they might tell him. 

You laugh bitterly and curse his name for the way it feels in your mouth. Tender and silky. 

You reach out to the shadows as they dance in the moonlight as one comes to rest on your outstretched palm.

“Aren’t you a curious little thing,” you say, stroking the darkness as it curls into your touch, “such a shame your master is an insufferable brute.”

The shadow stills for a moment in your hand before unfurling itself from your grasp and flitters away down the winding corridor. 

No doubt in search of the morose Illyrian they call home.

You turn down the hall in search of your bed, the darkness permeates the air in a way that it feels almost tangible, a thick, oppressive presence that makes you want to collapse into it. 

Through the blanket of the dark you feel eyes on you. Watching and waiting in the shadows. Ready to strike. 

You approach the door to your chambers with a quiet caution, your free hand reaching to the hilt of your dagger sheathed at your thigh.

In a flash of cobalt light tangled in shadow Azriel appears behind you, as you spin to face him his body collides with yours. 

Azirel towers over you, his laugh is cruel and laden with dark promise as he bears his teeth to you. His large calloused hand claims the exposed column of your throat as your back braces against the walls with enough force that you feel crimson stone give way beneath you. 

“Mouthy little bitch,” Azriel growls into the shell of your ear, “need to teach you to keep that pretty mouth shut.” 

You raise an arched brow to him in amusement as you try to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. 

“I’d like to see you try, Azzie.”

The tension is palpable and in an instant you are enveloped in the oppressive darkness that is Azriel as he hoists you into his strong arms and pushes your door open with such force that you are sure you feel the mountain tremble. 

Azriel drops you to the floor wordlessly. You watch him as he pulls the chair from your vanity so that it is facing you before taking a seat before you. He’s so close to you that his boots are touching your folded legs and his knees are level with your face. 

His eyes glint in the dark, a strange combination of lust and a cold anger that comes off him in violent waves. His shadows once thick and oppressive have gone from him now in the safety of your room. 

You watch Azriel with anticipation as he unlaces his breeches, his eyes roaming over your body with a dangerous precision. 

“Get on your knees.” Azriel’s voice is like cold death as he frees his cock from his training leathers. 

His head falls back as he grips the length of his cock and gives himself a few lazy pumps.

You shift in your position and come to rest on your knees before him. 

Azriel meets you eyes as you take his throbbing cock in your delicate hand, pumping once as you spread the first beads of pre cum over his sensitive head. You smile when your teasing draws a guttural moan from hip that has his hips rutting into nothing. 

“Such a fucking tease, baby.” Azriel hisses through gritted teeth “maybe I’ll just take what I want, hm?” Azriel muses, taking your chin harshly in his grasp until you purse your lips for him before letting your mouth fall open.

Azriel takes it as an invitation and thrusts into your open mouth. You stutter and gag around him as you acclimate yourself to the feeling. Heat blooms between your thighs as he pulls out of your mouth, admiring the string on saliva that connects your body to his. 

“Such a pretty girl with my cock in your mouth.” Azriel says softly as his hands tangle in your unbound hair before roughly pulling you back so that you’re peering up to him.

He sits in the chair like it is a throne and he, a cruel prince of some dark unknown. His eyes shine with a predatory admiration as he speaks again.

“Open up, baby.” he command.

Without thought you open your mouth to him, if only to watch the way Azriel smiles wickedly as he leans down to you. Before you can register what he is about to do Azriel’s saliva lands on your tongue.

You hardly have time to widen your eyes before he is tugging at the hair at the nape of your neck and guiding his cock back into your mouth until you’re whimpering around his girth.

“That’s it baby,” he coos encouragingly as he pushes further into your mouth, “taking me so well.”

After a moment your throat relaxes around him and Azriel begins to move slowly. His first few lazy thrusts draw gasps from you that vibrate around his length and Azriel roars as he begins to give into his own pleasure. 

When he is seated to the hilt he draws back slowly and you dare to cast your cast to him from your position on the floor. The sight before you is damned right sinful. Azriel is lost somewhere between this world and the next when you flatten your tongue against the base of his cock and when he looks down to you wrapped around him you feel his body shudder violently. 

The moan that leaves your lips is drowned out by his cock as he sets a punishing pace. Azriel fucks your throat with a fervour that arches on delirium as you let your body go lax in his capable hands. 

Once more he withdraws from you, letting air fill your lungs  before roughly thrusting back into you again. Letting your tongue swirl over the heavy tip of his cock before taking it in his own hand to spread your saliva over the plush of your lips before sliding back in again so that your face is pressed against the dark hair at the base of his cock. 

Azriel’s hold is unyielding and savage as he fucks into your mouth that your eyes begin to water and the taste of your salt-water tears mixes with the taste of his arousal. 

He holds you there until your vision blurs with tears and you look up to him with pleading eyes lined silver as your struggle against him, clawing at his adonis belt until he releases you. Azriel withdraws his cock from you in one swift rut of his hips as laughs as you desperately suck in sharp and shallow breaths. 

“Come on, pretty girl,” His tone is deceptively soft as he presses the tip of his aching cock back to your lips again. 

“Open your fucking mouth.” Azriel drops the soft timbre of his voice and in its place cold death when your mouth does not yield to him at once.

Your tears stain your cheeks as Azriel forcefully pushes back into you again until your warm, wet mouth submits to him. You feel the rumble in his chest as your throat constricts and tightens around his length and you feel him twitch on your tongue.

“That’s it,” He growls as his hips rut into your open mouth, “cry on my cock.”

Taking me so well, he murmurs as he chases his own high. The feeling as he hits the back of your throat causes your own arousal to pool between slick thighs and by the feral noises Azriel makes you think he notices too. 

He can practically taste you on his tongue.

Without warning Azriel pulls you back by the hair and this time instead of fucking straight back into you he takes your face between his fingers and forces you to look at him. The pad of his thumb drags slowly across the sulk on your lip before his other hand wipes the tears from your eyes. You look at him through dark lashes with a softening gaze as he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your hairline. 

Azriel’s tender touch is a short lived fire as the haze of lust falls over him again. 

“Open up.” he commands and you feel gracious enough to obey, sensing his desperate need for release.

Azriel takes his cock in his fist and fucks into his scarred palm with fervor before you take him in your mouth. Azriel sets a lazy pace as his sensitive cock brushes over your flattening tongue again and again. You feel him tremble beneath your touch and the gasp that spills from his lips is punctuated by a string of curses as he spills into your mouth. 

His come lines your throat a milky white film as Azriel pulls back admiring the way you look wrapped around him. The tears that stain your cheeks, the dark hazy look in your eyes, pupils blown wide and the swollen sulk of your bottom lips as he grazes his thumb over it. 

Azriel takes your jaw gently pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your bruised lips. You stand to your full height before him and let Azriel guide you so that you’re straddling his lap, your dress riding up to expose your thighs to him. Azriel’s fingers map the expanses of your thighs and hips, the tips of his fingers leaving bruises in their wake as you feel his cock begin to stir again.

[californiaboytoybilly]

VILLAINOUS VALENTINES || BILLY HARGROVE X STEVE HARRINGTON || ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 || NSFW 2.2k

cw: stalking, voyeurism/exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, sex toys, dominant bottom billy, mildly dubious consent, pervert steve harrington, cocky billy hargrove, model billy hargrove

beta read by: @bottombillyapologist (tysm 🖤)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

o:|| ~ IT’S A GIVE AND TAKE KIND OF LOVE WE MAKE ~ ||:o

He was watching.

Billy knew he was watching. He was as predictable as the soft creak of the weathered floorboard that accompanied his first step across the threshold of his bedroom, somewhere beyond the soft fluttering of his sheer curtains.

Casting his eyes to the side as he walked towards his bed, Billy tried not to smile as he caught a glimpse of him, half hidden behind the stone statue in the garden. Steve- because it wasn’t hard to find out really anybody’s name or place of work when you had a wallet full of cash- had become something of a toy to him.

Steve didn’t know that Billy knew he was there, of course. No, no. That had been the best part for the blonde.

He imagined a breathless gasp echoing in his garden as he dropped the towel tied loosely around his waist, shower damp skin prickling as it was bared to the air. Steve would be drinking in the sight of him, lip clasped between his teeth all guiltily the way he did when Billy started coincidentally passing by the ice cream stand he worked at in the mall when he went to visit his favorite photographer.

Not many professional photographers would let you drag them into their supply closet for a quick fuck after a session, and Billy had been in a five year dry spell when it came to anything more than casual.

Maybe it was a little fucked up that he knew someone was stalking him and enjoyed it, but Billy wasn’t trying to pretend to be normal. It could’ve been his vanity, his ego, some need to be seen by someone— but he didn’t care why.

Putting on these Friday night shows was the only time he even bothered to touch himself anymore. It just wasn’t the same without his little audience member.

Billy sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for the rich tub of lotion he kept nearby. He wondered if the anticipation was simmering in Steve’s stomach in the same way it was for him as he scooped up the cream on his fingertips, thick and sweetly scented like white tea and raspberries.

As his fingers swirled the cream over his toned chest, massaging and pressing, leaving tingling little trails in their wake, his body began to wake up in other ways. Billy’s head tipped back, a private smile just for himself spreading across his lips as he let his legs fall open.

The teasing was the best part, but he found himself incredibly impatient for the main course. It had been a long week and he’d been eager for this.

Letting his back hit the wall, Billy slowly trailed his massaging fingers lower as he worked his skin cream in, breath catching in his throat when his fingertips brushed the very top of the thatch of hair between his hips. So close.

Finally, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He needed to get off like it was as important as the oxygen he breathed.

Wiping off his fingers carelessly on the sheets, Billy let his eyes open just enough to peer subtly towards the window once more. There he was, even less hidden than before as his distraction clearly won out over his need to be hidden. That was how Billy had first learned of him after all.

As soon as all of the calendar model’s perfect golden skin was on display, Steve’s blood rushed south and Billy got to see a little more of his admirer as he slipped up.

Though the details were a little fuzzy from here, Billy could see his hand slowly rubbing over the denim of his jeans, pretty jaw dropped just a little as he braced himself against moss covered stone. Fizzling pleasure like fireworks flooded Billy’s body at the confirmation he was enjoying what he saw.

Like he always did.

Maybe one day he’d invite him in. Sit him down in the leather chair in the corner and make him beg to touch the object of his obsession, while Billy took himself apart painfully slow in front of his eyes. Maybe he’d even let him lick his spent dick clean after, just a fleeting taste to drive him wild.

Billy throbbed between his legs at the thought. Fuck, that was enticing. He always felt so boneless and lazy after a good orgasm, cleaning up was a hassle he didn’t always want to bother with. He knew Steve would do such a good job, clever pink tongue catching every single pearly drop like it was a priceless wine he could never afford.

With that image burned into his mind, Billy let his eyes slip shut as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, flushed and weeping where it had risen to kiss the soft skin of his abdomen. If he gasped a little louder than was strictly necessary to ensure the sound would carry through the crack of his open window, that was his own business.

Need scratched up the inside of Billy’s body with fire-tipped claws, a beast yearning to be set free. Tonight wouldn’t be a slow, leisurely show. He needed it too much for that.

A whine escaped him as he rubbed his thumb over the swollen head, ass lifting an inch off the bed as he just barely stopped himself from thrusting into his hand. Fuck. His free hand blindly traveled over the bed until it slipped under his pillow to the place where he’d hidden what he needed for this.

Cool, pink glass brushed his fingers and he smiled as he removed it from its hiding place. Heather had been horrified at the very thought of a glass toy, cringing so hard in the shop despite the salespersons assurance it was solid and completely safe that she’d almost escaped her own skin.

Billy loved it. The temperature, the unyielding nature of it, the heart shaped bumps and ridges that made his toes curl. He lifted the toy to his mouth, opening his eyes just a little as he spit on the flared head of the toy.

He tried his best not to look right at Steve as he lowered the toy, letting it skim over his waiting hole as he spread his legs a little further, chin falling to rest on his chest with a pant as he pushed it inside of himself. A shudder rolled up his spine, tongue damn near falling out of his mouth as it lolled.

The spit wasn’t enough to make it an easy slide, but the friction only made his cock jump in his hold again. He liked it to burn a little so he could feel it later.

Idly, he wondered what Steve was packing. Would he stretch him open like the toy? Make it burn? Or was his proclivity to watch because he was on the smaller side? Did it make him feel inadequate, did he watch because he didn’t believe he could please Billy?

He was sure he could find a way. Size wasn’t everything.

Maybe if his cock was too small to ride, Billy would tie him to the bed. His ankles and wrists bound, laying there helpless and desperate as Billy straddled his face and rode his tongue until his blood turned to lava in his veins and he lost the ability to speak.

It only felt fair. Payment in pleasure for all that Billy had given him over the last six months.

He worked the toy faster as his desperation built, thigh muscles bunching up tight. Another lazy glance under his lashes showed him that Steve’s hand had disappeared into his pants, head pressed against the statue and shoulder rapidly rising and falling.

You wish you were inside of me instead? Billy wondered, before the toy brushed against a spot that had him damn near choking on the moan that ripped free.

Steve’s head dropped the second the sound reached his ears, only for a moment, mouth moving around a word Billy couldn’t make out and hand never so much as pausing its rapid motion. Just the sight of him had Billy going faster, rocking himself down to meet each thrust of the toy to get it deeper but—

Billy whined, annoyed. He was so fucking close but it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

It almost pained him to let the toy slip out of him, cock weeping and angry at the sudden neglect as he used his hands to get to his knees. He was loath to sacrifice his little glimpses of his favorite freak, but… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give Steve something special tonight.

It was Valentine’s Day, and he felt like being nice.

And, he really needed to fucking cum before he exploded.

Billy turned his back to the window, kneeling on the soft mattress holding his weight, and bent over to reach into his nightstand. He might have shaken his ass, just a little. As a treat.

It didn’t take long to see what he was looking for. Bright red silicone and big enough to make his mouth water. He snatched it as well as the tube beside it, impatiently slicking it up just a moment later.

Finally, he thought as he slid down onto the toy, which was tightly held in place by his feet. It left his hands free to brace him against the wall, back muscles tightening under his skin as he began to fuck himself down onto the toy. It was bigger than the other one, enough to almost hurt, but he relished in it.

Once he was sure he wasn’t going to topple over, he removed one of his hands from the wall and dropped it to pinch at his nipple, head falling loosely back on his shoulders as he let out a litany of curses.

Had Steve fully come out of hiding now that he thought Billy would be oblivious? Or was he still being careful? Maybe he was even taking pictures…

That thought shouldn’t have been appealing at all and yet it had him rocketing towards the edge, probably forming a puddle on the sheets where his bobbing cock drooled endlessly. Quiet enough to not be heard from outside, Billy tried letting Steve’s name mingle upon his pitchy moans and heavy breathing. He liked the way it dripped from his tongue.

In fact, he liked it so much that he made an incredibly risky decision. One that had the chance of scaring off his skittish little bunny for good.

But his orgasm was creeping up on him, he felt drunk on the endorphin rush, and he wanted more next time. He wanted to be touched. Wanted Steve to get on his knees and beg for the privilege to do so. Even the thought was…

His body trembled, hand shooting down to stroke himself one, twice—

It crashed into him like an ocean wave, Billy’s hips dropping down as far as he could take the toy as he clenched tight and let out a near wail of Steve’s name. It trailed off into a sob of a moan, back bending and body shuddering violently as he painted the wall with his release.

Did he imagine the startled sound behind him? His brain was swimming as he struggled to catch his breath, barely able to muster the energy to lift himself off of the toy and let it fall to the bed. He angled his body as he flopped sideways, landing on his back with his legs splayed, one dangling off the bed.

He wanted to look, see if he’d scared him off. But he felt like his muscles had been reduced to pudding and he really needed a minute to reattach himself to reality.

A minute felt like a week before he could drag himself into a sitting position, wincing at the stab of soreness that would haunt him deliciously tomorrow. He pulled himself to wobbly feet, stretching out his body as he stumbled his way towards his window.

Steve stood wide eyed in the same place Billy had last seen him, lips parted and face bright red as Billy hit a button to flick on his pool lights and effectively illuminate him. He had a dark patch on the front of his pants, which made Billy lick his lips as he fought back a smirk.

He was looking at Billy both like he was the most alluring and most terrifying creature he’d ever seen. It absolutely didn’t make the blonde preen.

His bunny shuffled in place, looking like it was taking every ounce of strength he had not to run. Billy lifted his fingers to his mouth, kissed them and then winked as he pressed them against the window.

Steve jolted, lip sucked into his mouth and looking for all the world like he forgot how to blink.

Billy took a step back, reaching out to either side of the window to grab onto the edges of the curtains as a broad smile broke out onto his face. “Happy Valentine's Day, sailor boy.” He called out, watching only long enough to see Steve’s face slacken and go impossibly more red before pulling the curtains shut with a flourish.

Perhaps he’d indulge in a little bit of ice cream tomorrow.

He’d certainly worked up an appetite.

[writingjourney]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could maybe write about copia struggling to do his makeup and asks (y/n) for help?

let me help | copia x gn!reader

Thank you for your suggestion anon, it inspired me to this little fic. It may be a bit different from what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it anyway :) @leezlelatch here it is ♡

summary: your papa is overworked and tired, too shaky to do his own make-up, so you offer to help. content: 2.1k words, some mild hurt/comfort, established relationship

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

A strong gale blew thick and heavy snowflakes against your window all night, leaving a plump white pillow on the sill that’s now covering half of the glass pane. You woke up multiple times as the wind howled in the cracks of the abbey’s old stone walls like a wolf calling to the moon, only ceasing in the early hours of the morning. As you get ready for the day now, the sky has cleared up and the soft glow of a rising sun paints your quarters in warm hues of orange. You lift your hand and let the warm rays of sunshine dance over your fingers.

It’s all quiet at this time of day and you’re sitting on your shared bed, pulling on some warm socks while Copia does his make-up. He’s perched on a wide, upholstered stool in front of the vanity he got when you moved in with him. Anything so he wouldn’t occupy the bathroom all morning, so he can share some more time with you while getting ready. 

The sunlight hits the back of his head, his hair still tousled and sticking up at odd angles. You love observing him as he gets ready. While clumsy at first the process of painting his face has now gone over into muscle memory and watching his nimble fingers get to work each morning is a sight to behold. His brow is always furrowed in concentration, deepening the adorable wrinkles on his forehead as he draws precise black lines onto his features. His lips stay tightly pressed together through the whole process right until he finally has to relaxe them to apply his lipstick. 

It’s the same procedure every single morning.

Well, except for today.

“Ahhhh, cazzo.” 

His sudden curse makes you look up and you catch him furiously scrubbing at his cheek, almost violently wiping away some of his black paint. A blotchy gray rim remains around the red patch of skin he just rubbed raw.

“What is it, my love?” you ask, worried he’s going to seriously hurt himself.

Copia sighs in defeat, setting down the black paint in frustration only to stare at it in mild disgust. You observe him over the mirror but he doesn’t look up at you, a heavy air of sadness hanging over him.

“Ugh… I feel a little shaky today,” he finally says, staring at his trembling hand. “I cannot get it right.”

You’re aware Copia has dealt with a rough few days – sleeping restlessly, feeling unwell from all the stress, skipping meals in order to get more work done. It’s hardly surprising that he’s shaking, already overworked and worn out with another long day looming ahead of him.

You scoot off the bed and make your way over to your exhausted Papa. His eyes find yours in the mirror as you approach, and he makes space for you on the stool. It’s a tight fit but you sit down sideways, facing Copia instead of the mirror.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you take his hands in yours.

“Helping.” You bring them to your mouth, gently kissing each individual knuckle. You can feel his tremor, feel his tension against your lips. He slowly eases up as you continue to kiss him, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. Copia sighs softly and when you look up, he’s smiling weakly at you and you already know what he’s going to ask next.

“Amore… how do I even deserve you?”

“You deserve all my love, don’t you ever question that.“ You give him a playfully stern look, followed by a pout, and his cheeks turn all rosy. “Now let me do your make-up.” 

“You– you want to–“

“I’ve seen you do it a hundred times. I think I should be capable by now.”

“That’s not…” He swallows, softly shaking his head. “Not what I meant.”

His tone is enough to tell you exactly what he did mean. Do you really want to do this for me? Painting my face, something you’ve never done before, to help me when I feel so vulnerable right now?

“Yes, I want to.” You let go of his hands to reach out for his face, slowly rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. “My love, I know I cannot shoulder your burdens, I cannot paint my face and be Papa for you, but I can try to give you as much love and support and care as I can. And if that means packing you lunch to make sure you eat, rubbing your back when it’s sore from sitting all day, popping in to help you with paperwork or even doing your make-up because you’re too worked up over the day ahead, I will happily do it.”

His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, smiling as a single tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, amore. You are my everything.”

It pains you to see him like this, so bone-tired, so defeated, really. He is your everything too and to admit that you can’t simply make all of this go away hurts. You lean in to kiss away the tear, add a few more kisses to his cheeks for good measure and an especially soft one to his lips. “I love you, too, Copia. More than you can imagine.”

You break away and he opens his eyes, huffing out a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Uhm, yes… so… should we start?”

“Mhm.” You reach for the white paint and decide to fix the spot he had been rubbing raw earlier. The redness is mostly gone but you’re still careful as you apply the face paint with a beauty blender. At first Copia watches you, still with that hint of disbelief in his eyes that you’re actually willing to do this for him, but then he slowly closes them and relaxes into your gentle care. Once his whole face is covered in an even shade of white, you pick up the black paint again. You find a brush and dip it in, trying to get a feeling for how much you need.

“Do you… uh…” Copia looks around, probably searching for his phone. “If you need a picture, for reference…”

“No, I don’t think so.” You chuckle, reaching for his chin to make him look at you. “I’ve been staring at your handsome face so many times, I’m sure I could do it in my sleep. Just relax, amore, I will get it right, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he immediately says, ears turning red at the use of his pet name. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to doubt you, tesoro. It’s just…”

“I know, it’s okay. Just relax, please.” You give him a genuine smile, raising your eyebrows until he finally returns it. Of course it seems a little forced, he’s still anxious, still tired, but it’s better than nothing. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes his features, allowing you to start with the black paint.

It takes you a while to get his whole face done since you’re trying to be as careful as possible. Admittedly, you’re a little shaky too, but with the help of the brush and working very slowly, you get the lines straight anyway. Copia tries very hard not to flinch or move his face, but he does blink a few times as you draw the lines around his eyes. You’re doing his eyelids when he blinks yet again, the timing unfortunate as his lashes hit the brush and some of the paint gets into his white eye. He hisses and tears up immediately, squinting hard in pain.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry,” you mumble, pulling away as fast as you can.

He raises a hand to your arm, the hurt eye still tightly screwed up. “Don’t, please, it happens.” 

Copia hands you a tissue and you gently dab at the tears before they mess up the rest of his make-up, waiting until his eye stops leaking. An agonising minute later he manages to keep it open, the white iris surrounded by a now very red sclera. It looks worse than it probably is but it still scares you and you take a few deep breaths before you decide to continue with your finger instead of the offending brush.

“Is it okay now?” you ask.

“It is. Thank you,” Copia whispers. “You’re doing so well, amorino. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile at his praise, though you’re not sure if he’s being quite truthful about the pain. Nevertheless, you apply the rest of the paint, even more cautiously now, until it’s almost done and only the lips are left.

It’s not the first time you see his whole face covered in make-up with only his lips bare, it’s basically a slightly cleaner version of what he looks like after a good make-out session – once all of his lipstick has transferred to your face. And he does have very beautiful lips, so plump and pink and practically begging to be kissed. They always feel so soft against yours and when he’s gentle–

Copia must see you staring at them because his fingers find your chin, slowly lifting your gaze until your eyes meet and he smirks. “Are you distracted, tesorino?”

You fight a smile. “What if I am, Papa? Are you going to fire me?”

“Oh, I could never do this, no.” He smirks knowingly. “Your Papa enjoys having all of your attention way too much, amore.”

That’s enough to make you close the gap and finally kiss him. He smiles into it and before you can pull away, his hands find your cheeks, keeping you exactly where you are. His fingers gently move into your hair, tilting your head up before he deepens the kiss. You sink against him with a sigh, hoping this won’t do too much damage to his paint. But that thought is forgotten as soon you feel his teeth grazing your bottom lip, asking for more. You let him kiss you breathless as you taste the remnants of minty toothpaste on his tongue and it’s enough to make you crave him so badly. But he’s tired enough already, you can feel him losing his energy as the kiss gets more sluggish and he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Promise me to take it easy today,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m so worried about you, Copia.”

He lets out a sigh, the exhale ghosting over your tender lips before he whispers back. “Ti voglio tanto bene. For you I promise anything, anything. I try my best to get home early tonight, sì? We can continue this without hurry.”

“Yes, please.” You smile, running your thumb along his jawline. “And I love you too. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“How could I? Whenever I look in a mirror today I will be reminded, eh?” He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away. “Now, I think I’m already late.”

He’s right, you’ve taken way too long. So, you reach for the black lipstick and carefully follow the curves of his still kiss-swollen mouth, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in your belly. You blot his lips with a tissue after you’re done and fix some of the white paint your kiss messed up again. Once you’re done, he looks just like always. The only difference is the warm, affectionate smile that now graces his features, the twinkle in his eyes that belongs to you and only you.

“Thank you, amore,” he says, inspecting himself in the mirror. “È veramente perfetto. You did so well. I want to kiss you again so bad, but I would ruin it.”

Instead, he blows you a bunch of kisses and you giggle as you pretend to catch them. Copia gives you the first enthusiastic smile you’ve seen on him all day and it doesn’t leave his face as he combs his hair back, smoothes out his black dress shirt and tugs at the sleeves.

Then he suddenly jumps up, raising his hands. “Tada!” He does a little spin, almost stumbling over the leg of the stool. “How do I look, eh? Tell your Papa what you think. Be honest.” 

“You look bellissimo!” you say, clapping your hands as you grin at him. “The most handsome Papa to ever grace these halls.”

“Ha! And it’s all thanks to my very talented amore. I am so lucky, molto molto fortunato!”

You stand up as well, let him pull you into a tight embrace. He’s solid and his arms feel strong as they squeeze you to his body. He’s not quite recovered, and you know it will take more time, will take you a lot of convincing to get Sister to reduce his workload, but you can tell he’s feeling better for now.

And that’s what truly matters.

thanks for reading :) if you want more comfort fics check out this fic, this fic or this fic hehe ♡

[serene-sun]

𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 • ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Pairing: Copia & young reader

Warnings: none, just comfort and fluff so sweet you will cry

A/n: I cried writing this, for many reasons, but I won’t rant on the fic itself! I did in-fact write this sleepy sleepy fic for the sleepy sleep themselves @ghostussy

“Okie dokie kiddo, it’s time for bed.” Copia softy whispered into your ear, patting your back softly as to not wake your half asleep form.

You laid pressed against copia in his lap as he worked on some final plans for the clergy, you had insisted you help him, only to fall asleep from the days earlier excitement.

You groan a little, letting him know you at least heard him. You fell even more limp into his warm embrace as he fixed you to be more secure in his chest as he stood From his dark oak desk.

“My bambino, so sleepy, so tired from all of that well spent energy.” He huffed under his breath, just barely a whisper

The hallways were warm, candles lined the walls with red and black drapes, and the stone floor you both strode along. At every window, a painted vase stood filled with fresh flowers. You always loved the smell, it was so refreshing and nice, and color.

“Before you slip into pjays, let’s get you a nice bath, shall we?” Copia asks you, pushing open the door to his chambers.

He lead you to the bathroom, already having your soaps and toys as you had seemed to form the habit of having copia do you nightly routine.

You slowly nod, sleep making your eyelids heavier with every fight to lift them.

Copia set you in the tub filled with warm water, he sat on the outside beside you, letting you enjoy the warmth as he grabbed your soap and shampoo.

“Eh, which would you prefer?” Copia showed you the two bottles in hand, “watermelon, of strawberry?”

His accent is so thick, no one speaks like copia does. Maybe that was another thing that made copia so much more special, he was one of a kind.

Nobody in the abbey walked, talked, or treated you with such tenderness like copia did. It wasn’t his position, or being the youngest, not even from having such clingy ghouls. Copia was naturally born with these qualities that made him a great man, leader, and even better; father.

It didn’t matter if he was blood or not, what did matter was his unconditional love for you that never faltered. Even when you had messed up, when you cried over the smallest things, when you scraped your knee, or if you ever got overstimulated or had an attack from anything of your past. Copia was there, always, when you needed him. His touch so tender and caring, his heart beat calming, his eyes full of love and his smile so bright.

It didn’t matter who or what was outside of copia embrace, because you knew you could trust him to protect you. A shield, a promise, a protector, and a loving home is what copia is.

“Alright dolce Stella, let’s get you dried.” He soothed your skin as you stepped out of the bath and into the cold air.

Copia stoped a shiver crawling down your spine as he quickly took your favorite towel and wrapped it around you. It was green and white, the pattern of a frog, it had a hood with a cute nose and two eyes up top.

“Feel better?” He rubs the fabric to you, bundling you up and leading you to the stool at the vanity.

“What beautiful locks!” Copia is enthusiastic about your hair, he always points out every detail about it, “my, my, must be a play date for the ghoulettes.”

“Secundo could never…” you joke, earning a rather loud chuckle from copia.

“Don’t forget to brush those toothers.” Copia reminds you, as he sets the brush down as he finishes your hair, handing you a tooth brush with sharks on it.

After you brush your teeth, copia swaddles you up and brings you to your ‘little’ wardrobe in his room.

“What wou-“ copia tried to speak but your attention is stolen by a pretty pattern of stars and planets that you blurt out, “that one!” You quickly grab the pajama set off the shelf and show papa like it’s a piece of art you just finished, and boy was papa proud

“You like your space pajamas don’t you dolce.” He says, sliding them onto you.

The man took you once more into his arms, bringing you back into his main room.

“Now, here’s your stuffy and your blanket.” Copia sets you under the covers of the bed, tucking you in with your stuffed frog and space themed blanket.

Copia takes the time to turn on your pillow pet, the lady bug one that casts an array of stars, galaxies, and planets across the ceiling.

“Papa” you grab at his hand as he leans away from the bed.

“Hm?” He brushes off any lent on the blanket.

“Story?” You ask, exhaustion kicking in again like the moon light is pure melatonin.

“Well of course bambino, I assume you want the same as last nights?” Copia reaches at the bookshelf across from the bed and under the TV.

You may of had a slight obsession with this one book series, and copia may of read it to you every night since it was your favorite. You couldn’t help it, it would send you straight to sleep.

“Hmm, how about this one?” He shows you one that has a different cover, but still the same art style and title.

You nod eagerly, relaxing back into the covers and pillows as copia sits beside you. He brings you to lay into the crook of his chest, his left arm resting around you.

“Comfy?” Copia asked before starting, licking his finger to open the book.

You nod once more, and so he begins

“Mr. Putter and his fine cat, Tabby, loved to sleep. They could sleep anywhere. They slept in chairs, in swings, in cars, in tubs, and sometimes in the laundry room!” Copia read with excitement, but a soft low voice that made your brain tingle.

As copia continued, you started zoning out, staring into the colorful drawings of the pages.

“It was a beautiful night. The moon was full, and moonlight was everywhere. Tabby looked. She listened. She twitched her ears. She twitched her tail.” Copia continues as your head falls back into his shoulder.

You feel your muscles relax, your shoulders and legs release tension.

‘Maybe I’ll let them rest’ is what you thought, letting your eye lids shut softly. A breathe exhaled through your nose, you faintly felt copia move to flip the page.

“Mr. Putter looked up at the sky,

He showed Tabby the stars and he told her all about them. He told her that the Blg Dipper was full of milk from the Milky Way. Tabby purred she loved milk.”

By now, you’re zoned out enough to not listen to him anymore. Your body takes in the feeling of copias body heat and soaks it up like a sponge.

You take it the softness of his voice and chest, the tickle of his hair on your forehead

“They told stories in the moonlight. They told secrets. They made each other laugh.”

Copia softly finished his line, glimpsing at your asleep form.

He softly slid out of your bed, careful not to wake you. He pulled the covers up to your neck, setting your frog in your arms.

He leaned in to kiss your forehead,

“goodnight bambino…I love you trillions.”

[rosieofcorona]

Ortolan

Angels, darlings, besties, I present to you the most evil thing I’ve ever written. The first chapter of a little gothic story about our favorite vampire ascendant and his beloved consort. Named, of course, after the bird that is born and bred to be eaten whole. Horror ensues. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading!

All her life Tav had lived in the palm of the palace’s shadow, its black spire-fingers stretching and reaching into the corners of the city when the sun dipped low. She had never known then how it held her, that distant, haunted thing, had never thought its eyes might watch her when she wasn’t watching back.

She watches everything now.

From its high balconies, she can see all of the Gate spread out below. The streets, the shops, the city center, the painted roofs and cobbled roadways— all in miniature from here, like little playthings from her childhood. The people move like dolls beneath her, in and out of the castle’s black hand, and on the days time seems to dilate in a widening, infinite loop, she thinks she sees herself among them, walking freely in the sun. 

She could make the lower city in an hour, if she hurried. 

It’s not so far, she thinks. Just far removed.  

Half a league and a lifetime away.

*****

Where Tav feels out of place in their new home, Astarion thrives. 

He stalks the halls with newfound confidence, cold command in every step, making note of things he’ll have their servants change. He seems to know the place inherently, every floorboard, every stone, while Tav gets lost with alarming frequency by comparison. 

She only explores at Astarion’s urging– Until it feels like home, my darling – but the halls are narrow and labyrinthine, stairways twisting into darkness, secret passages that lead nowhere or loop back to where she started. When learning the layout seems impossible and makes her feel like a rat in a maze, Astarion reminds her that all the prior spawn, including himself, had done it. 

Even an animal, she wants to say, can learn its way around a trap.

It’s not all awful, she supposes. She loves the libraries and the moon garden, with its fragrant phlox and foxgloves, and the oratory, too, when she gets brave enough to enter (Astarion promises more than once that she will not burst into flames). 

In fact most of the rooms, when she discovers them, are beautiful, pristine save for a gauzy shroud of dust left over centuries. Others have fallen to neglect, or to irrelevance. There is no need now for the garderobe, the vanity, the ice house, for the dovecote where no living birds remain. 

She finds the kitchen and the larder and the buttery standing useless– though the rats, if they could speak, might disagree. They’re busy gnawing at the stock of moldy scraps still in the pantry, hardly minding her approach until she’s on them. 

Her eyes track them as they scatter, like a hunter, like a predator. An instinct she’s developed since her death.

She is stronger, swifter, sharper– as Astarion had promised– but there is violence softly shimmering beneath. She wants to tear at something, always, wants to follow something home. She wants to bite down hard enough to make her jaw ache.

She never tells him out of fear he will encourage it. 

Tav dreads the day she knows is coming, the day he’ll send her out to hunt. He loves her bloodlust when he feeds her– Such an eager little thing– and keeps her hungry to incentivize her finding her own victims. 

But a rat is not a victim, says her instinct. 

She follows one into the back half of the kitchen past the storerooms, to a passage she has never seen before. The rodent slips beneath a door that hangs half-rotten on its hinges, as if no one has been through it in a century. It is unlikely, it occurs to her, that even Astarion knows it exists.

The door creaks open with her touch, the air beyond it thick with odor– wine and earth and slow decay, with something coppery beneath. She pricks her ears toward the sound of little claws upon the stonework, of a heartbeat in the dark that’s not her own. 

The rat has vanished out of sight, but it’s no matter. She can trace it by its movements, by its scent. As she creeps farther down the passage, the metallic scent gets clearer– copper, yes, but also parchment, like the binding of a book. Hints of mushroom, hints of honey, hints of soil, mold, and… rat blood .

The realization feeds her drive and her disgust in equal measure. Turn around , she tells herself. Let the poor thing go . 

But she moves on as if compelled, down one long staircase then another, winding deep beneath the palace where it’s damp and dark and cold. At the bottom she stops to listen, stops to take a deep breath in. 

There is a foulness deep below– the unmistakable scent of death– and still, the rat blood, like a top note, rises over the decay.

She hurries blindly into the blackness, her feet following her nose until she loses track of how many times she pivots and pivots back. They move underground until the air gets moist, the stone floor slick beneath them. Her own feet stick each time she pulls them up, as if walking through mud, or through gore. 

We must be deep beneath the earth, she thinks, for it to be so wet. 

The creature ahead of her stops suddenly, its breath heavy and exhausted, running one way then another, side to side. Dead-ended by a wall, no doubt. It finds no way ahead.

She can make out the trembling shape of it, her eyes black with lack of light, and then another shape between them, and another, and another. They look like piles of festered meat left in a storeroom, long-forgotten, and for a moment she believes that’s where she is.

Tav takes a step around a pile and something crunches beneath her heel. A bone, or shard of bone, she notes, the flesh long-rotted off the marrow. Another step, another crunch, a skittering sound like a stone being kicked. 

She kneels to touch the little object, to bring it closer to her face. Another shard, it seems, an animal tooth, the one end needle-sharp and hollow…

The realization swells and hits her like a wave. 

Her single-mindedness is banished as she looks around the room, no, not a room, a crypt– the crypt!– where Cazador locked all of his spawn before the ritual. Whatever is left of them coats the floor, their blood, their hair, their shattered teeth, and Tav can smell it now, their stench, beneath the rat that she’s all but forgotten. 

Her own voice screams above the instinct. I should not be here.  

She turns and runs in the direction she came from, at least, the direction she thinks she came from– and should she turn left here, or right? There should be stairs, where are the stairs, where are the stairs? 

She runs until she can run no more, until she corners herself in a corridor, caught between the way she came and a bolted door. She tries to stop herself from shaking, not from cold or damp, but terror, the idea she might be left in here until she is nothing but rot. 

But what she has learned from getting lost is that he will find her. 

She’s never asked him how he does it. She isn’t sure she wants to know. 

He always does, she reassures herself. I only need to wait. 

She doesn’t know how long she huddles there in the bleak and soundless gloom, doesn’t know how long she listens for his footfall. 

At last a voice slips through the darkness. A pale hand reaches for her own.

“You’ve wandered far this time, my darling. I could hardly trace your scent.”  

A horror scurries down her spine like little claws upon the floor. That’s how I tracked it when it ran, she shivers. Parchment, mushroom, honey.  

It’s how he finds her now, no matter where she runs.  ***** It is hours later when she asks him, with his blood still on her lips, how it feels to wring the life out of a creature, drop by drop. 

“You ought to know,” he answers absently, completely unperturbed. He is preoccupied, deciding on the perfect place to bite her, fingers tracing every vein beneath her skin. “You’ve killed a thousand times, my love, have you forgotten?”

“That was different. Not for blood.”

“No, gods forbid,” Astarion laughs. “Most times for gold.” 

She feels annoyance, like a spider, creeping up the back of her neck. “Do I hear judgment?” “Certainly not.” He makes a show of looking scandalized, a hand fluttering over his heart. “I’d never begrudge you a little violence, you know that.” 

As he moves further down the bed his touch trails with him, hands and mouth mapping a blue line down her body, along her breast and hip and thigh. He settles there and moves her legs apart so he can kneel between them, makes her shiver in familiar delight.

She wants to lose them in this moment, those poor creatures in the crypt, wants to put them from her mind for now and always. But with every touch she feels Astarion’s hunger, still unsated; with every kiss, she feels the sharpness of his teeth.

Like animal teeth, she thinks. Like theirs, like mine.  

“But do they suffer? When you drain them?”

Astarion sighs like rustled velvet, looking up at her from his knees.

“Such a soft heart, still,” he murmurs. “Did you suffer, my beloved?”

How easily, how often she forgets that he has killed her.

If there was suffering she can’t recall it now, no matter how she tries. The memory’s far off in the distance, formless, fogged by ambiguity. If she moved toward it, maybe she could make out certain details…

But his tongue is on her now, and she welcomes the distraction. It is unpleasant, after all, to relive dying. He drags it slowly over the soft flesh of her thigh above the artery until she hums a little sound of satisfaction. 

“Would you like to?” He asks, in that same, soft voice. His eyeteeth shine like pearls in the rising moonlight.

“Please,” she whispers. It is all the urging he needs. 

She cries out at the breaking of her skin, the rush of blood into his mouth. The feeding has always been pleasurable, even when she was alive, but it is heightened now that they are bound together. She can feel him from the inside now, coursing through his body, she can fill him and fulfill him with blood alone. “More,” she pleads, when he pulls away to look at her. Already he is bright with her blood. “Astarion, more.”

If this is suffering, she wants it– every evening, every hour– until whatever light still shines in her eyes goes out.  ***** In her dreams she finds her way back to the black mouth of the crypt, its iron gates swung wide on their hinges as if to swallow her entirely. She’s running frightened, like a rabbit , like a rat from something watching, someone whispering her name into the dark.

[bookish-whore]

Falling Part IX

Azriel x Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Discussions/Allusions to SA, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Lots of Cursing.

A/N: Hello Lovelies! Thank you all for your patience with this chapter it has been a crazy two weeks for me. Considering we are on Chapter 9 now I can safely say that this fic will be a bit longer than the 10 chapters I initially anticipated (oops). Thank you all for your continued support on this story and as always, my requests are open and I am slowly making my way through them!

My Masterlist -> Here

Falling Masterlist -> Here

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I was on the mend.

Since arriving back in the Day Court, Helion put me on a strict regimen, he was taking my recovery very seriously. I had a daily routine now, granted it had only been a few days, but Helion said that a establishing a routine would be good for me to have. He told me that knowing what’s going to happen throughout my day would decrease any anxiety and keep me from panicking and having any other episodes. So far, he has been right. I haven’t had any panic attacks since waking up that initial time. He also said that fresh air and sunlight can do wonders for my physical body, and for my mental health, which is why I was currently making my way downstairs to meet Lucien for our daily walk through the gardens.

I saw Lucien pacing at the foot of the steps, as he had done since we began these walkabouts.

“Good morning Vanserra” I said, the male halted his movements when he heard my voice

“Good morning my dearest y/n” he said, extending his arm to me with a smile. I hooked my arm under his and together we made our way outside.

We walked for a while in comfortable silence, Lucien knew how much I loved the gardens here. They were full of such vibrant colors and such a vast array of flowers it was like I was in a different world; it was like a brief escape from all of it.

I led us to one of the stone benches placed throughout the space, it was my favorite spot in the garden. There was a clear view of the pond, sparkling in the sunlight and where we sat, we were under a canopy of wisteria. I enjoyed the sweet, floral, and slightly musky scent as it wafted through the gentle breeze. Lucien was the one to break the silence.

 “Are you ready for the big reunion?”

I wrung my hands in my lap “Not really” I said looking down at my hands

“Why is that?” he asked turning his head towards me to meet my gaze

“Well, if I’m being honest, I feel nervous. I know it’s just Feyre and Nesta and I am so grateful you wrote to them, but I’m worried they will see me like- like I’m damaged or broken. That they will somehow think of me differently. Think of me as- as weak after what happened.”

“They would never see you as weak, or broken, or damaged. Not after what they have been through.” He took my hand in his “and regardless of what anyone thinks you are strong, one of the strongest people I know. What happened to you wasn’t because of anything you did, or didn’t do, and I know you are trying to cope by pushing people away but we- the people who love you- aren’t going anywhere.”

I nod my head “I know” I say, just loud enough for him to hear

“Now, come on” he jerks his head over his shoulder “lets finish at the pond I know how much you love feeding the ducks”

I flash a smile at him, and we make our way toward the pond. I can’t help but feel a sense of calm about the big visit later. Lucien’s words had managed to put my mind at ease.

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

I took my time getting ready for this meeting.

I had an extra-long soak in the bath, until my fingers were wrinkled, and the water had become tepid. Once getting out I put on an outfit I felt comfortable in, which happened to be an oversized cream sweater that hung to my mid-thigh, dark leggings, and thick wool socks. After getting dressed I sat at my vanity to fix my hair, I decided to put it in a simple braid to keep it out of my way but as I looked in the mirror, my eyes were drawn to the faint circle of purple, black and blue around my neck. As I stared at the markings I began to reconsider.

I brought my hand up to graze my fingers across the lingering bruises, all at different stages of healing but still visible were anyone to look at me. I suddenly felt self-conscious at the idea of my friends seeing the evidence of that night. I could feel the panic rising and remembered the breathing exercises Helion taught me and began to ground myself, mostly by reminding myself that I was here in the Day Court, that I was safe, that what happened was over. After a few minutes I regained my composure and stood. I wouldn’t let that male take anything else from me, I wasn’t going to cower from the bruises or the scars that I carried with me. With a final deep breath, I made my way downstairs to meet my friends.

I opened the double doors and entered the room I had picked for this meeting. I had chosen an intimate library with tall shelves lining two of the walls, the other wall housed a massive ornate fireplace, and the final wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rose gardens. It also had a comfortable sitting area with two long couches, two large armchairs and a table in the center, which was perfect for tea and cakes which Helion insisted we have, something about sugar being calming for the nerves. I didn’t dare argue.

I took up my seat in one of the armchairs, facing the doors when a soft knock sounded. I shouted for the visitor to enter to find it was just Helaena, one of the housekeepers, bringing the tea and desserts for me and my guests. Once she was finished, she promptly left, closing the doors behind her and I was once again alone. I looked at the clock atop the mantle on the fireplace and realized my guests would be arriving any minute, the thought had me picking at my cuticles as I did when I was nervous.

I found some comfort in the knowledge that Lucien would be there, I had asked him this morning if he would stay for the reunion, to intervene if he saw it was too much for me, and like the good male he is he agreed without complaint. However, I was still nervous to see the others. I know that Lucien was right this morning when he said they would understand but so much has happened since we last spoke that it seems like another lifetime. I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard faint voices down the hall. They were here.

I stood from my seat, wiping my palms on my thighs to get rid of the sweat that had accumulated in my anticipation of their arrival. A soft knock sounded.

“Come in” I shouted, my voice cracking at my choice of volume. The double doors swung open and there they were. We all stood frozen, just staring at each other.

I locked eyes with Feyre first, she was smiling at me, a faint flicker of silver lining her blue-grey eyes. Knowing her, they were tears of relief, tears of happiness. My gaze shifted to her right to find Nesta with her usual smirk that never gave away her true emotions, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. They were both looking at me as they always had.

And finally, I shifted my gaze to the other female who had accompanied them.  

I immediately recognized the auburn hair, sparkling teal blue eyes, and warm smile. I had to fight the tears from spilling because Gwyn had come. Gwyn who had only begun leaving the House of Wind a few months ago – and had only gone so far as Rita’s – had made the long journey to a new place to be here for me. My knees threatened to buckle under me, and I immediately crossed the room pulling all three of them into a bone crushing hug. I couldn’t stop the swell of emotion as we stood there, simply holding each other.

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

After what felt like hours spent in a tight embrace, We finally took our seats around the table; Lucien chose to sit across the room to give the impression of privacy. We sat silently, pouring tea, and rationing out cookies and cakes from the assortment that had been brought in. After everyone was served, I decided to initiate the conversation.

I cleared my throat “I feel like- like I owe you an explanation for why I left the way I did”

Feyre interjected “Y/n, there is no need for that”

“I know that” I say flashing Feyre a small smile “but I’m sure you were worried sick at the fact that I just vanished, that I only left that note. I know that I shouldn’t have taken my anger at Azriel out on you guys and for that I’m sorry”

“After what happened” Nesta took a sip of her tea before continuing “and after what he said, I don’t blame you y/n. In fact, I let him know exactly what I thought about his actions the other night”

“What is she talking about?” I asked looking between Feyre and Nesta for any indication of what had happened between them.

“Well, after you left, we all had dinner at the House of Wind and your whereabouts were a point of conversation” Feyre said “Tensions were running high and after a suggestion that you be brought back to the Night Court Azriel made his opinion known about our plan to visit…Nesta made her opinions on his behavior quite clear.”

“What could he possibly have to say on the matter?” I asked

“That Feyre and I shouldn’t come; he made a comment to that extent…but enough about him” Nesta said “We are here for you”

Feyre and Gwyn nodded at that as the attention shifted back to me.

“How has it been here?” Gwyn asked gently taking a bite of lemon cake.

“Lucien and Helion have been amazing. I mean they rarely leave me alone, not that I particularly want to be alone right now, but they have treated me so well.” I paused a moment before I could continue “but even though they’ve been nothing but accommodating. I still have this feeling…just this overwhelming feeling of nothing, its like an endless pool of numbness. I can plaster a smile on my face, and laugh, and act normal but it’s not really how I feel.”

The three females all nodded in understanding.

“And I am terrified that this feeling is all I am ever going to feel again. Like, that night has irrevocably changed something in me. Changed who I am, how I see the world.” I wiped a tear that cascaded down my cheek “and I don’t want it to, I don’t want to give that male any more than he’s already taken but I don’t know how to get back to who I was before.” I dropped my head into my hands as the tears began to fall.

Before I could register what was happening, the three of them were at my side. Feyre on my left, rubbing comforting circles along on my back as I cried. Nesta on my right holding my arm as she tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear and Gwyn sat in front of me, her hands cupping my face while her forehead rested against mine.

Nesta was the first to speak after my admission. “Do you remember that day all those months ago after you first saw Azriel and Elain together?”

I wiped my nose on my sleeve, nodding

“Do you remember what I told you then?” I nodded again looking directly at her. I thought back to that morning, the words repeating themselves in my head

“What did I tell you?” she gently prodded

“You said” I took a shaky inhale “I can’t tell you when…or how; but it will get better. That I will get through it, as long as I am willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it. That I need to push through my pain to come out on the other side.”

“That’s right” Nesta said “I would tell you the same thing now y/n. You cannot change your circumstances, nor can you fix the past. All you can do is continue to move forward.”

Gwyn spoke then “Nesta is right, healing isn’t linear, and some days will be worse than others, but you aren’t alone in this you never have been, and you never will be.”  

I nodded my head in recognition of what she said but went silent as I heard a faint commotion in the hall and the familiar scent wafted into the room and I froze.

...night-chilled mist and cedar.

Azriel was here.

As quickly as the thought crossed my mind, the double doors opened and there he was. I couldn’t help but look him over, he was wearing his fighting leathers, his siphons giving off their usual cobalt glow and his wings flared behind him. His hazel eyes burned into me as he stalked his way across the room.

Lucien stood first intercepting the male by placing a hand on his shoulder, halting him from moving any closer.

“Back off Vanserra” Azriel barked under his breath.

“Not a chance Shadowsinger” Lucien said, pushing Azriel back towards the door. Lucien jerked his head and a fae guard approached taking hold of Azriel’s other arm, helping Lucien haul him out.

“I just need to talk to her” Azriel said, his voice raised as he fought the two males restraining him “please y/n, just- just give me five minutes- please” the shadowsinger pleaded as the males hauled him away.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough” Lucien snapped “haven’t you hurt her enough?” he growled into his ear.

“Lucien” I said softly, the male stilled at my voice “it’s alright, I’ll talk to him”

I could practically feel Azriel’s sigh of relief, but I pushed it out of my mind because I wasn’t doing this for him.

No, this was for me.

I was taking my friends’ advice and confronting my pain, Azriel being only one of my problems right now but I felt that he was the one I could face, at least the one I was most ready to face.

I made my way through the palace to my bedroom, I wanted to be far away from prying fae ears. I could feel the tension rolling off Azriel as he followed silently behind me. Once arriving at the door, I paused a moment taking a deep breath before turning the knob and gesturing Azriel to enter first. He does so silently, tucking his wings in behind him as he passes me. I step in after him closing the door behind me with a soft -click-

I lean my forehead against the door before turning to face Azriel to find that he is already staring intensely at me, his hazel eyes boring into me as he waits for me to speak first. I can’t help but notice how they flick down to the faint bruising still visible on my neck. I clear my throat, which draws his attention back up to my eyes.

“You wanted to speak to me” I say, surprised at how strong my voice sounds “so speak”

He clears his throat “I- I do want to talk about other things with you, but first I just need to know, how you are or rather how you’ve been”

“How do you think I am Azriel?”

“I know that was probably a stupid question, but y/n I was worried about you. I have been worried sick about you. so much so that I haven’t been able to sleep, or eat, or-or think with you gone and after what happened I just-”

“That must have been hard on you” I snap

He goes silent. Turning around to face the large floor to ceiling windows that covered one wall of my quarters. I make my way closer to him, sitting on one of the couches in a lounge area that faces the fireplace.

“It must have been hard to continue living your life as you had been for months” I say, the rage slowly building as I think to all the conversations we had, conversations where he knew about the bond and told me about how he had fantasized since childhood about having a mate, how he thought he was unworthy and undeserving of one when he knew. When he knew that his mate was sitting across from him.

He turns around to face me “Y/n, I know that’s how it seems but-”

“I’m not finished yet” I interrupt “it must have been so difficult, to know about the mating bond and sit back and live your life while I was suffering. Do you even know what it was like? To watch you and Elain together, to know you shared a bed, to know you were in love. While I was practically torturing myself?”

I could see the tension building in him as his jaw clenched “Don’t put all of this on me y/n. You knew about the bond too, and I don’t recall you making any public declarations. I didn’t see you make an effort to tell me about the bond either.”

“I was going to” I practically shouted “on the winter solstice. At the party, I told Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, and the entire Inner Circle about my plan, that you needed to know to make an informed decision about what to do with your life, regardless of the outcome”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “And do you remember what you did that night Azriel? Do you?” I asked. He made his way across the room, sitting on a chair opposite of me, bringing his hands to ruffle through his hair. I could’ve sworn he cursed under his breath. His silence only encouraged me to continue.

“You got engaged. You proposed to Elain, and I had to watch, Lucien had to watch.” I wiped a tear that fell at the memory of that night. “I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell you so many fucking times Azriel but how could I? You seemed so happy and all I would do is ruin that, ruin a choice that you made. A choice that Elain made, and I had made my peace with it. That you chose her, and the bond wouldn’t change anything because it didn’t. You knew the whole time. The whole fucking time and you clearly didn’t want it”

“I fucked up y/n I know that now, but you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you”

“You know a few months ago I might have believed that. I used to think that you would never hurt me Azriel, from the moment the bond snapped into place for me I had this idea in my head about who you were and- and I was wrong because I trusted you, I got to know you and I started to have feelings for you”

I couldn’t help the tears that lined my eyes as it all came pouring out of me. “But you- you betrayed me, and you have turned into someone I don’t recognize”

“I know that I fucked up y/n, I know that but if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. please just- just give me a chance”

“Fine, here’s your chance. Why did you choose that moment to tell me about the bond? In that place after I was attacked”

“Y/n…” he began “Do we really have to talk about that”

“Don’t treat me like I am this fragile, broken female. I can handle it. I have been handling it. So either answer my question, or get out”

“Fine…I- I didn’t choose that moment, it just came out. I was so panicked and worried about you. that night…I felt you get hurt and I don’t know, when I saw you and when I smelt your blood, I was just so relieved you were alive. I didn’t have a filter on my emotions, and they got the best of me”

I nodded “Did you ever think about telling me, that you knew that the bond was there?” I said softly

“y/n” he says like a warning

“Don’t y/n me Azriel. Did you consider it or not, it’s a simple question”

“Yes” he says desperately “of course I did, but I decided against it”

“Why?” I asked

“Why?” he repeated, his voice sounding confused.

“Yes Azriel, I had a good reason not to tell you. What reason did you have not to tell me?”

“I thought- I don’t know I convinced myself that you were better off. I thought that it was too dangerous for you to be bonded to me for life and that I was protecting you”  

“That’s bullshit” I quip

“That’s the truth” he shouts back at me

“It’s an excuse, it was too much for me, but Elain could handle being married to you. Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

“FINE” he yells pinching the bridge of his nose as he finally lets his guard down.

“I was in love with Elain, and I wanted to be with her. I didn’t want to hurt anyone okay…I really didn’t and I hoped deep down that you didn’t know. I convinced myself that you had no idea and that all the signs that you did were in my head. I didn’t want to have feelings for you, I didn’t want to acknowledge it.” He took a deep breath “but then you were attacked, and I felt like a complete asshole because maybe if I hadn’t pushed you away then you wouldn’t have almost died. If I was with you, maybe that male wouldn’t have dared touch you and…the more I thought about it the more I realized I was in the wrong. Everyone fucking knew already, and here I was playing fucking house with Elain.”

I wiped away the tears that had involuntarily fallen during his confession.

“And in the end Elain is the one that ended things, because I was still too much of a coward to admit that I was developing feelings for you. and before you say it’s out of pity or a feeling of duty, I was developing feelings for you long before that night.”

“Then tell me something Az” I say quietly

“Anything” he says, his eyes meeting mine. I can see the desperation within them.

“If she hadn’t ended the engagement. Would you have married her?”

His face fell, his body going rigid at my ask. That seemed like answer enough to me. I nodded in acceptance and stood going to leave the room. He reacted quickly, running in front of me and dropping to his knees, tears freely falling down his face.

“Please don’t go y/n” he begged “Not like this please just- fuck I know how it seems but I have been honest, doesn’t that count for something? I know- I know I hurt you and I hurt Elain but If you just give me a chance, I can fix this, I can fix us.”

“I can’t Az” I said, my own tears falling in tandem with his “maybe someday I can forgive you and we can move past this, but not right now” I made my way to the door, reaching for the knob to leave when his voice halted me.

“I’m not giving up y/n” he said “I promise you; I don’t care how long it takes. Even if it takes an eternity, I am not giving up on this.”

I didn’t respond. I simply opened the door and walked back to the library, leaving him kneeling on the floor.

Next Chapter-> (Coming Soon)

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