#waiting for the corset pics

[artemispt]

[satans-knitwear]

Matched my cardigan with my little baby belle ✨

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[vulcannic]

better pictures coming soon but TA-DA! it’s finally done!

[frantic-fiction]

Tease 18+

(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav

Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?

Word Count: 3.2k

Mastarlist

Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 

You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 

"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.

"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."

"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.

"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.

"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.

"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 

After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.

Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.

The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.

"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.

"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.

Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.

"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  

You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 

He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"

"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 

Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 

Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 

"I know what you're doing,"

"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."

"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."

"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 

"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 

The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.

You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 

You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."

You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."

"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."

"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.

Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 

"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 

He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."

"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 

"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.

His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 

You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 

Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 

"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 

You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.

"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"

"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 

"I liked those."

"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 

"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 

"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.

Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.

You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 

"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 

"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 

He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."

"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 

"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 

Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.

"I guess I should wear more dresses."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."

"Horny bastard." 

The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.

Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 

"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 

Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 

"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 

You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 

Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 

He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.

"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 

Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.

Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

[watchmegetobsessed]

AND THE GRAMMY GOES TO

A/N: this is literally just a little something i thought of upon seeinf this pic of Lizzo recording Harry lmao

WORD COUNT: 698

SUMMARY: The moment Harry wins another Grammy.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor Noah starts the big announcement as he opens the envelope and the whole room goes eerily quiet.

You have your eyes glued to the stage, you’ve forgotten about how uncomfortable your dress feels around your chest (note to yourself, corsets only look good, but they are straight from hell when you actually wear them). You’re holding your breath while both of your hands are gripping Harry’s underneath the table and his hold is just as tight, his palms sweating as you all wait for the winner’s name to be dropped.

You allow yourself to peek at him and you see his blank stare, but you know there’s a whole tornado behind it, his mind is probably racing faster than ever and you almost miss how he is anxiously kicking the foot of his chair as the silent moments tick by.

When you look back at the stage you see Trevor opening the envelope, but instead of saying what’s inside, he looks behind, as if he was searching for someone and when he steps over to the adorable old lady in the line behind him, you already know.

Harry won.

He won another Grammy. 

“Har-Harry Styles!” the lady screams and you jump to your feet, unable to control your excitement any longer.

“Oh my God! Yes! Yes!” you scream and jump around, like a deranged football fan after her team just won. Everyone around is cheering and clapping and you look at Harry who has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders gently shaking.

“Baby, you won! I’m so proud of you!” You practically jump on top of him and he finally lifts his head, all his happiness reflecting from his eyes as he jumps to his feet and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you so tight that air gets knocked out of your lungs, but it’s okay, because you want to feel it all, you want to feel his pride and happiness in the moment he deserved so much. 

“You did it, H! I’m so so so proud of you!” you bounce in his arms before he pulls back and his lips land on yours, probably for the first time ever at an event like this. There are thousands of people around you, but in that moment it’s just you and him, sharing this magical experience he earned.

When he lets go of you to accept more congratulations you keep jumping and clapping with your hands up in the air, screaming in happiness and then you spot Lizzo behind you, her phone in her hand as she records your reaction.

“He won! My man won another Grammy!” you scream into the camera, making her laugh before it’s her turn to hug the winner himself. You’re out of breath by the time Harry heads up to the stage and you have to fix your dress so you don’t flash on national TV.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Lizzo laughs next to you and peeking over her shoulder you see that she is watching the video back, you’re acting like you just lost your mind while Harry is just hugging everyone one after the other.

“Don’t you dare post that anywhere,” you warn her, but you already know from the look in her eyes that she won’t gatekeep this one.

“Oh babygirl, your birthday is coming up, right?” She laughs like a maniac as you gape at her, pretending to be shocked, but before you could say a word Harry’s voice is heard coming from the speakers. 

He starts his totally random acceptance speech, rambling on about how thankful he is and how much this means to me, his gaze keeps flickering down at the award in his hands and you’ll never forget that smile that’s etched onto his face in that moment.

“...so, thank you so much and, erm…” he looks up, eyes swiping over the crowd before landing on you as he continues.” I wouldn’t be here without you.”

It seemed like he was addressing it to mostly his fans, but from the way his eyes were piercing into yours, you knew that it was meant only for you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[bbgirlchristine]

I tend to forget how much I love to wear black. Think you can remind to wear it more? 😉 Oh wait... you'd probably rather see me take it off ... 🖤🔥

There are plenty of sexy pics in this corset over in Christine's Corner! And also plenty of pics without the corset 🥵

[maneskinwh0re]

“you want me to break you.” ~ fem loki laufeyson x fem reader

one shot, smut, 18+

this is porn with a plot. freak level 100. 3.4k words. yes, i’m ovulating. cw: 18+ dom!loki, fem!loki, loki x reader, begging, edging, teasing, embarrassment k!nk, knife play, cuffs, blood, praise, degradation, punishment kink, semi-public sex

read at your own risk babes. first time writing smut and my hormones did not hold back !! idk if i like this or not lol but i have more in the works xo

“tear you apart” by ‘she wants revenge’ while you read >:)

cred to loki concept artists - got these pics from insta and pinterest like a year ago

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

location: asgard

you pace the golden palace halls as you wait for thor and the warrior’s three to return. it’s been a few hours now, and your mission is only a simple weapons transfer across realms. once everything is in order, you plan to return to midgard, aka earth, and assist the avengers in whatever is next on the heroes’ roster. the sun has set and multiple asgardian moons are shining bright lights across the galaxy’s sky.

the sound of light steps echo the hallway as you walk, until you decide to lean against one of the wide, golden pillars that reach up to the high ceiling. with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes for a moment, wondering how much longer thor is going to take in the council meeting. when you open your eyes, thor’s sibling is staring at you only a few yards away, leaning on an opposing pillar. your startled gasp made her smirk, her emerald green eyes never leaving yours.

loki has heard stories of the midgardian avenger, often by eavesdropping on thor’s babbles of his “heroic adventures.” and you’ve heard stories of her, but often spoke with negative qualities through tony stark’s gritted teeth. you have never seen the goddess in person. her dark hair falls on her shoulders and a dark green corset hugs her hourglass figure. she wears black pants and tall black boots that reach her thighs. a fluffy, light-gray coat drapes over her while the tall horns on her golden helmet curve upward. she definitely looks like a goddess, but you internally curse yourself for the thoughts you have of the villain.

she slowly toys with a dagger in one of her slender hands until she finally speaks.“hello, mortal,” her voice is smooth, fit for a princess.

“loki,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest. you know you shouldn’t be conversing with her. hopefully she’ll leave you alone if you ignore her gaze long enough.

loki sees your ignorance to be a challenge, of course, so she walks closer. “may i ask what you’re doing in asgard?” her tone is sweet as she raises an eyebrow curiously.

you inhale slowly as you think of a response. how much does she know?how much should she know? you assume not much and that you should keep it that way.

keeping it vague, you reply, “um, well…i’m here for a mission, under the avengers initiative.”

loki smiles sweetly as she stops in front of you. “mission? avengers initiative? oh my, how cute.”

you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach over loki’s closeness. “it’s classified.”

“classified?” loki hums, looking down at you. “do you wish to tell me more? i’m very curious, y/n. just between the both of us, of course…” she leans closer, putting the dagger she was playing with in her thigh holster in order to give you her undivided attention.

“i’m terribly sorry, your majesty,” you reply in a sarcastic tone, smoothing out the fabric of your black training suit. “but i’m afraid i cannot disclose any more information.” you straighten your posture against the pillar and find some enjoyment as you tease loki. “not unless i could get…something in return.”

she thinks to herself with a smirk, then raises an eyebrow. “ah, something in return? what is this something that you expect me to give you, mortal?”

“again,” you whisper, looking her up and down. “classified.”

“you know, mortal, it’s really unfair if you don’t tell me anything whilst i’m standing here with such curiosity. i want to know,” she leans in closer, her lips brushing your ear. “what is this classified information you are hiding from me, darling?”

you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of loki’s cold breath on your ear and neck, her scent of rain and oak filling your nose. she pulls back as her hand moves to your chin and turns your face to look up at her. your eyes flick open as she forces you to look up into her dominant gaze.

“it’s not worth your valued time, your majesty,” you breathe, speaking honestly. “only a weaponry transfer across realms. nothing more.”

loki’s fingers slowly move down to the zipper on the front of your skin-tight black suit. “nothing more? what if we make this mission a little more personal?” she asks flirtatiously as her hand begins to pull at the end of the zipper.

a moment of clarity hits as you realize you are both still in the open hallway. your lips part as you breathe heavily, grabbing loki’s hand to pause her movement. you look left and right, searching for any working guards or wandering civilians.

“what if someone-” you begin to ask worriedly until loki backs you behind another nearby pillar.

“that is why you’re going to be quiet for me,” loki whispers against your neck, her free hand beginning to roam. “no one will see you but me.”

she continues to try to unzip your suit, ignoring your hand lingering on the back of hers as her fingertips brush against your skin. “you need to be a good girl for me and let me unzip it…”

you start to focus on your breathing once again. you keep your hand on loki’s wrist but your resistance lightens, allowing her to move your suit’s zipper lower until the fabric falls slightly off your shoulder. loki’s fingers and thumb brush against your bare skin under the suit, teasing you until her lips coat light kisses across your collarbone.

“good girl…let me undress you, darling. you’re mine after all.”

a soft whimper escapes your lips as you allow her to remove your black suit. she helps guide your arms out of the sleeves and lets the top half of the suit roll down to your hips. a shiver runs up your spine as the cold night air hits your skin. loki’s gaze darkens as her hungry eyes lower to your breasts.

“gods, you’re so beautiful…,” she praises as her hands caress your thighs and slowly work their way up your torso. “yet so fragile. i could break you in half.”

“then do so,” your voice shakes as your hands tangle in loki’s dark hair, tugging on it slightly. “break me, princess.”

something inside loki snaps instantly as soon as those three needy words leave your mouth. she pushes herself against you as her lips latch to yours in a passionate kiss, gentle and warm at first, until her tongue enters your mouth as her hands travel up and down your thighs, squeezing them tightly. after a few moments, she starts biting and pulling at your bottom lip with her teeth.

the way loki kisses you brings up a moan from the back of your throat, a sound that only drives her crazier. her lips leave yours and you immediately try to catch your breath. she then bites down on your neck, leaving marks and hickeys that will only darken in time. you feel a drowsy heaviness pull your head back, resting against the pillar as loki pants into the nape of your neck.

your hand trails up loki’s arm and shoulder until you reach one of the horns on her golden helmet. you tug on one of the horns, subconsciously trying to pull her head downward for a moment before you realize what you’re doing.

“y/n,” loki warns, biting harder as one hand grips your waist and the other pulls your right thigh up to her side. she presses her hips against yours, grinding hard as she resumes suffocating you with open-mouthed kisses. your body tenses at the pressure, moving your hips in hopes to find more friction.

“loki…please,” you groan as soon as her tongue temporarily leaves your mouth. your fingers tug at her green and gold armor, craving her body even if that means you’d have to pry every layer of her clothing off yourself.

loki lets you move and squirm, all while still holding your right thigh against her left hip. she slips her free hand under your suit to start rubbing slow circles on your clit through the silky fabric of your underwear, bringing another whimper from your mouth.

“you want me to break you?” loki whispers into your ear, continuing the many pecks and bites to your neck. she sucks slightly on your collarbone until your nails are practically digging into her corseted waist. “such a naughty girl. let me punish you…”

you can feel yourself grow wetter with every filthy word that leaves her lips. you look up into her eyes and nod as a consensual gesture for her to be rougher with you, not being able to wait any longer.

“punish me, loki…please.”

“that’s it, darling,” she lowers your thigh as she kisses down your body until she is kneeling in front of you, her hands caressing every one of your curves as she moves. she then roughly pulls the rest of your suit down your legs until it pools at your ankles. her thumb resumes the achingly slow movements to your clit through your underwear as her fingers press against the dampening fabric covering your vagina.

“f-fuck,” you curse as both your hands grip the horns on loki’s helmet, using it to stable your legs’ weakening balance.

“easy, dear,” she says. “watch that pretty mouth of yours, or i’ll put it to good use.”

“i…” you breathe, trying to form an argument back, but loki’s thumb starts to move faster before you can think to stop yourself from cursing again. “oh- fuck!”

“ah, you little brat.”

she then quickly rips off your panties and stands up abruptly. she grabs your jaw and forces two fingers into your mouth. you don’t hesitate to shamelessly suck on her fingers. they’re in for only a moment before she pulls them out and wets her thumb with her own tongue. she then lowers her hand and you feel those same two fingers being pushed inside your wet cunt.

a pained yell escapes your mouth until it’s muffled by her free hand. her thumb resumes rubbing circles on your clit at a quicker pace than before, helping the ache turn to painful pleasure.

“shh, remember what i told you, hm? i said you need to be quiet for me,” loki shushes you. your legs are already struggling to support your body while the knot in your stomach grows.

your whimpers and moans are muffled by loki’s slender hand, forcing you to control your breathing through your nose. her thick gold rings are cold against your cheeks. both your hands grip her wrist, inhaling and exhaling unsteadily as your eyes catch the dagger sheathed in her thigh holster. when loki realizes what you’re looking at, she pauses her movements with a smirk and pins both of your wrists to the pillar above your head, not even bothering to wipe or suck your juices off her fingers. you let out a frustrated groan over your delayed release and squeeze your thighs together, feeling embarrassed on how loki caught onto what you were eyeing.

“how cute,” she whispers against your lips, her taunting tone and cold breath flowing into your open mouth. “is that how you want to get punished, my adorable slut?”

you press your lips together to stop yourself from whimpering again, only having the ability to nod in response. loki moves her fingers down to the holster and removes the knife. she then brings it up to your throat and presses the side of the blade against it. the threat is somehow arousing in a way you have never felt before. you wonder how far you’re willing to go. then wonder how far the villain is willing to go…

“do it, then,” you say with a challenging tone and a raised brow, half confident that loki is bluffing. part of you hopes she isn’t. “you won’t, princess.”

“oh, yeah?” loki looks playfully offended, tilting her head to the side as she studies your nervous breaths. her lips form a sly smirk on her face as she trails the cold blade down, past her leftover bite marks and down to your chest. she presses the blade against your skin harder, not quite drawing blood, but definitely causing enough pain for you to try to maneuver yourself away. “how about i carve the letters of my name right here across your breasts, you little brat?”

you suck your teeth as the pain grows. you squirm in loki’s grasp and lick your lips. “once again,” you chuckle softly and smirk back up at her. if you are going to do this, part of the fun is the fight. “you won’t do it.”

loki’s lips form a slightly cruel smile. a thin, red line appears on your skin, causing you to hiss out a groan. the pain doesn’t get any easier as you feel a bit of warm blood trickle down your breast before another line is slowly carved, creating an “L” shape on your lower chest. loki goes to continue the three remaining letters, but your struggle to stay still makes her pause. she uses her magic to create green, transparent restraints out of thin air, keeping your wrists pinned to the pillar before teasingly pressing the tip of the blade to the center of your sternum.

“is that all the punishment you can handle for now, little brat? are you gonna stay still for me now?” loki lifts your chin with the end of the dagger, watching you find the strength to nod and recover slowly. you try to ignore the painful reality carved into the skin of your breast. while you don’t yet regret challenging loki’s bluff, it still hurts like hell—like a good hurt…for now at least. you nod in answer to loki’s question before looking at her lips. she reads your expression, understands your nonverbal request, and willingly gives herself to you.

she hums into the kiss, a moan following shortly after as you lift a knee and push it up between her legs. her tongue enters the kiss as she throws the dagger aside, the clattering noise loudly echoing through the hallway. both of her pale hands cup your face, expressing how gentle she now wants to treat your fragile body.

you try to move your arms to hold her closer, caress her curves, tangle your fingers in her hair—anything, but you can only tug at the restraints created by her witchcraft abilities. “lo…,” you pant between kisses in her grasp.

loki notices, but doesn't care. she continues to enjoy caressing your face and body for a few more moments. her hands finally travel lower until her damp fingers reach your sensitive nerves, your aching cunt still craving the delayed orgasm from earlier.

“beg for it,” she coos as her fingers tease your entrance, coating her digits with your wetness.

“loki,” you protest, bucking your hips up slightly in hopes for resumed friction.

“don’t make me repeat myself.” loki’s tone is stern. her free hand squeezes one of your breasts and pinches your nipple, bringing another pained moan from the depths of your throat. you felt so weak already, but loki intends to fuck you as long as you can still stand.

“please, princess. i…i’m begging you. p-please,” you whimper, your back arching against the golden pillar as you continue to squirm under loki’s teasing grasp.

loki grins at the sound of your little whimpers and begs as her thumb adds pressure to your clit. “don’t you dare move now, darling, not until your princess decides you can cum. you understand?”

“yes, lo…” you gasp as she pushes two fingers into your wet cunt. you so badly want to continue to squirm and beg, but you know better now to follow commands to stay still and quiet. your chest unsteadily heaving up and down is the only movement loki allows as her digits pump in and out of you at a slow pace. “m-more…”

her smirk widens at your stuttered request, moving her fingers faster as her mouth reconnects with yours, swallowing every whorish sound you make as she fucks you. your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw locks, trying not to hiss curses through clenched teeth. your faint words are stuttered between soft, breathy moans. “loki…oh, god- i…i’m-”

“i know, my dear. i’m right here. gods, you feel so good wrapped around my fingers…just in a panting mess like this,” loki whispers seductively as her fingers continue to move faster and faster. she kisses the skin beneath your ear between praises. her grip on your breast tightens as she presses her body against you. her pace is perfect. it is all too much, yet not enough.

loki’s lips kiss your cheek before whispering in your ear. “cum for me, darling…”

her thumb presses hard against your clit, and at her words, your body follows her command. the tightness in your abdomen unknots as you release a high-pitched moan that causes a greater effect on loki than you know. she is practically soaked from watching your pleasured reactions. she does not rush you to open your thighs as you ride out your orgasm against her palm. she enjoys the feeling of her hand trapped between them…as well as the thought of what it would be like for her face to be in her hand’s place instead. her kisses are gentle and slow, finding a steady rhythm to allow you breaks in between to catch your breath.

“you’re such a good girl. doing exactly what she’s told.”

the restraints above your head fade away, and you practically melt into loki’s arms. your head feels as light as a feather and every nerve in your body is relaxed. you feel loki’s palm on your breast, resting over the “L” she cut into your skin. a comfortable silence falls between you two as you lazily wonder why her hand is subtly glowing. you know you will never be able to explain how she heals you, even as you watch the tingly green magic flowing from her palm into your sore muscles. once she removes her hand, it’s like there is no trace of the injury, to the point where you almost ask if it was ever there. loki brushes a strand of hair away from your face and kisses the bridge of your nose. with a single motion of her fingers, your black training suit is rolling up until it is snug on your body, with no trace of her hungry hands pulling at the fabric minutes prior.

as if on cue, you hear the double doors at the end of the hall open, making an unmistakable creaking sound notifying you the council meeting is over. stomping noises of guards lined in pairs and the confident voice of thor reverbs off the walls, causing you and the goddess to shrink further behind the wide golden pillar.

as you smooth out your hair, she adjusts her helmet and attempts to play with the small weapons in your belt. you swat her hand away as thor, odin, and rows of asgardian keepers pass by, sounds of their armor clanging and clashing.

thor’s words boom above all the noise to instruct a young palace maid to fetch you from your chambers, where you’ve supposedly been told to wait during the meeting. steps at the volume of a mouse scurry off towards the direction of your quarters.

as soon as all footsteps recede, loki’s arms wrap around your waist from behind and cling tight, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“surely, you’re not leaving for midgard now. are you, darling?” she pouts.

you chuckle for a moment until you realize she is serious. “i do have to go, princess.”

“and there is no way i could…convince you to stay?” she purrs, nibbling at your ear.

“i know you could, and that’s why i need to leave now before you get the chance,” your voice is soft and teasing. “but if there is another…weaponry transfer…i’ll make sure to travel along.”

the goddess of mischief reads your honest facial expression and kisses you. a gentle goodbye.

“that’s my good girl.”

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

as much time as i spent working on this…i don’t like it >:(

my wife deserves better smut than this smh

requests are open babes <3

-bee xx

[scarfacemarston]

Tuberculosis and the Wild West

Spoilers for RDR2 , but it’s been since 2018, y’all.  Trigger warnings for serious talk of severe terminal illness and severe stigma. As of 12/20 or 20/12, I have fixed some of the wording and added a few new things so please seriously head the warnings. Ok, first, some background: I've been studying TB since 2018; my father had a form of TB twice. I'm a historian, and one of my specialties is the history of medicine. Of course, you don't need to be a historian to write something like this. Also,  please "like" and reblog, this sort of content takes time. Tons of pics of buildings, and info below of the “lore” and IRL people.

Background info about TB that y’all need to know: TB is still horrifically deadly and still a leading cause of death. To give you all an idea about how recent genuine scientifically proven treatments were-  antibiotics targeting TB were not  discovered until the late 40s. However, sanatoriums (TB hospitals) and similar TB-related places didn't all close until 1970. My sister was born in 1977.  To give you all an idea of how treeified people were of this disease, think of the stigma with the AIDS/HIV crisis in the 1980s or the early fears surrounding Covid.

TB is one of the three oldest diseases dating back to Ancient Egypt with early evidence appearing through ancient mummies. Starting around the 18th century, western people believed TB was a disease of the elite granting someone ethereal beauty, writing prowess, and artistic talents. It was known as a "romantic disease" and a "beautiful death" - both of which we know aren’t true.  Some western beauty standards are influenced by TB including rouged lips, blush, pale skin and a thin figure accentuated with corsets. However, the appearance was due to the patient wasting away. Patients actually had bloodied lips, feverish cheeks, a pale complexion from the illness and losing a large amount of body weight. That's why TB was initially called consumption.(There have been many other names for TB including the White Plague and Captain of All These Men of Death and phthisis which is Greek in origin.) However, people eventually woke up and realized, "Oh wait, this isn't so sexy” The disease spread like wildfire, especially in the cities affecting whole families as was seen with Doc Holliday. Soon, society blamed anyone who wasn’t a white upperclass person AND those who were "immoral . They believed it was someone’s own fault if they had the disease. People held a very e*gen*c view of the disease believing their activities or who their families were caused this.  Immoral in this instance includes thieves, sex workers, bar workers, drunkards, violent people, women who had children out of wedlock, said child born out of wedlock, and homeless people. Obviously, this isn't true. It was overcrowded spaces, poor hygienic practices, but also animals, especially cows and deer. Ironically, the deer/stag plays a huge role in RDR 2. A few aspects from RDR 2 were inspired by Doc Holiday, one of the greatest gunslingers and outlaws in American history. His talents with the gun were considered by some as otherworldly. He and Wyatt Earp are most famous for the shoot-out at the OK Corral. Doc was dying of TB and headed west in order to potentially receive some medical attention, but found out that being an outlaw was great fun. Watch Tombstone for a fictionalized version of him. He had a very colorful life, but died of TB in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, at the age of 36. The same age as you know who.

This leads us to RDR 2 itself. The short answer about  survival is potentially yes, but with some major stipulations. I have traveled across the country studying TB and visiting TB sites and have seen these locations firsthand. Read further to read how survival was possible and for pictures of key locations.

IF Arthur had rested, maintained a proper fat rich diet, rested in especially clean air and partook in light exercise, he MIGHT have had a chance. I would estimate a 60-70 percent chance based on my readings of TB survivors. The chance of survival  could be more if he he headed West immediately after diagnosis. The wealthy traveled to newly built luxury resorts, but most people lived in tent colonies, so Arthur would be very familiar with the site. Hell, if the gang moved West, and followed the conditions I mentioned above, he MIGHT have been able to recover without heading to a TB colony. The the gang wasn't stable, and they were being hunted down, etc. However, people were pissed about the TB patients heading west to settle on "their land" (which is, of course, Native American land that was stolen). This pushed people to the outskirts of town and eventually, the establishment of sanatoriums which were tuberculosis treatment centers. 

Both the picture above and below would be an example of the tents used by TB patients to camp out. The top picture was probably taken around the 1890s which is Arthur’s lifetime while the picture blow is probably from a later era like the 20′s based on the clothing. City people in big cities sometimes camped out on the roofs of their flats and apartments hence the setting of the second picture. 

Due to the extreme fear, people were literally dropped off by families/friends or even government officials far outside of town. You did not want society to know that you had loved one with TB or else the stigma would affect you as well.  Later, TB patients were forcibly institutionalized. Many of these patients were ashamed of their affliction, but also felt further shame that their loved ones could be ostracized by society. I cannot stress enough how horrific this disease was and how tb psychologically affected the sufferer and its loved ones. Many tb sufferers never saw their loved ones again due to their families shunning them. I interviewed the elderly who remembered family members suffering from the disease and it still haunts their lives today. We see some of the shunning and stigma in the game, not just from the townspeople but from the gang. It's actually one of the reasons why I truly dislike a few unexpected gang members, for example.

At least Abigail, Charles, Tilly, John, and Sadie still treated him as a  human. Hell, Even Molly was kinder to him and she was really suffering in chapter 6.

I will tell you right now, realistically speaking, in no way could Arthur have done anything at all in chapter six. I’m not only talking missions, but any sort of work.  I won't go into graphic details, but one of the less graphic ones is that his hands would struggle to grasp objects, especially a gun. His joints would be too swollen. I know because I've seen it firsthand with my father and read plenty of accounts about it. Other than that, the game does a pretty great job of representing TB - however, Arthur could have been arrested or fined for spitting blood on the street which he did quite often in the game. Link goes to an academic article, but here is a more accessible link.

By 1899, people had been heading west for TB treatment for decades. People of all races headed west to Colorado, California, New Mexico, and Arizona being the prime locations. Dry air and or mountainous air were your best bets. Colorado was quite literally known as THE place for TB tourism as it was called. It was one of the first major waves of health tourism in the history of the USA. 

Another famous person and case study is Dr. Edward Livingston Trudeau. He himself suffered from tuberculosis who sent up tuberculosis huts in Saranac Lake, NY. For further study, other key locations include Asheville, North Carolina and in the mountainous regions of Pennsylvania. They huts looked like this:

These were also in Colorado Springs, Colorado Springs was full of them and they are still occasionally found in people’s yards today. 

I visited one in the Pioneer museum in Colorado Springs. I can post my pictures later, but this is one found in an outdoor museum.

The TB patients had a very strict regimen of never leaving the bed and used bed pans. Healthier patients had access to their own private toilet. Stronger patients could work on doctor approved exercises, while even healthier TB patients who weren't ready to leave facilities yet could spend the rest of their time working around the camp or sanatorium.  Below is how Arthur would have looked getting treatment if he wasn’t in a hut or tent:

Above: Women receiving treatment. Below: An 1899 TB facility. Most tuberculosis sanitoriums were built from 1905 onwards so John’s era was FULL of them. The peak of the sanitarium era though was 1920-1940ish.

The problem is TB patients had a very chance of suffering from pneumonia once TB went into remission. It's happened in tons of my case studies. If Arthur could have survived both TB AND pneumonia, then he would have been considered "Ok". Not good, but “Ok”. However, I can't predict how long he would have lived afterwards. Some TB patients had tuberculosis come in a second wave. This is, unfortunately, very common. Some people lived a few months, a few years and some lived decades after surviving the second wave.

 Fortunately, survival after two waves include people who lived hard, like Arthur. Trudeau lived till 68, and that is after 2 bouts of TB and pneumonia, with the third wave of TB being his cause of death.

This is very likely a reason why Arthur would have been in New Austin if they had kept him in the epilogue and continued the TB storyline. I personally do NOT think John was ever going to kill him. MISC NOTES: Related to RDR:  Important side note: Sex workers were especially blamed for spreading TB which makes sense because of the contact with multiple people, but it's not that different than someone who works at a factory every day, runs a shop or works at the docks, or in similar situations. Anyone could spread it. This is why it is actually technically very offensive to ask someone like Abigail if she had TB because it would be a way to imply she is unclean as a person. (Which people in the game already believe with some of the fandom similarly treating her poorly.) The history of sex work is my other specialty, so I am very familiar with their history. I will say, from what I gathered, sex workers did NOT seem to be that much more affected than others, but at the same time, we don't have a lot of records of people who weren't white upper-class Christian men. So we have these records if these people were arrested, but remember that all of the examples of people I mentioned were viewed as second-class citizens. Therefore, we have hardly any records of sex workers as actual people and historians have to be creative to find other ways to research them properly.  Modern day: TB is also becoming antibiotic-resistant at a frightening pace. This will become a massive problem. Treatment  requires at least two antibiotics - streptomycin being the main choice for the primary antibiotic. This treatment lasts months, and these antibiotics are insanely strong. They can really mess with the body's system. I've seen it. My father was one of the lucky ones only having to take the pills for 8 months. Many others take it from a year to even 18 months. Other people take the pills and undergo radiation therapy to treat TB. Modern science can't produce enough new antibiotics to outpace it, but alternative treatments do appear to be promising.  If you want me to write more about TB or for any other history questions, feel free to send me an anon/message.  Additional pics: Below: Sanitarium built around 1905.

Below: An example of a finished Sanatorium in 1911ish:

[oliviajdjarin]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Not Tonight

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her)

Excerpt: “‘I don’t want you in control. Not tonight. Tonight…’

Your eyes remained locked on his as you sank to your knees. Your dress pooling around your legs.

‘…I want to be.’”

Warnings: MAJOR sub!azriel, I mean major major sub!azriel, smut, sucking dick, face riding, the girl is wearing a corset top, an almost panic attack, the inner circle is here for like two seconds, Feyre says fancy mythology things (probably incorrect), I think that’s it.

A/N: Thank you @cityofidek for requesting my favorite thing to write in the entire fucking world. This is pretty dirty, so I apologize if that wasn’t the intention haha. @leahkenobi just pretend you don’t know me. Thank you to anyone who reads my work. You guys mean the world :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated &lt;3

Azriel Masterlist

(pic from Pinterest)

You followed him into the House of Wind, watching the muscles underneath the cloth of his shirt flex from the strain of his wings. He had a way of walking that was not cocky, but not modest either. You grinned, hearing Emerie’s voice in your head, and feeling the ache already pulsing in your core.

It only got worse when dinner began.

You sat across from him—close enough to touch the tips of his kneecaps with your own—giving you the view you had been waiting for since the day he left.

Broad shoulders, messy hair, tan skin, perfect teeth, hazel eyes, a dusting of freckles, and wings over half the length of Rhysand’s dining table.

You hadn’t seen him for weeks—weeks—and the first night he comes back is the monthly court dinner.

Of course.

You could have sworn the violet in Rhysand’s eyes twinkled with knowing when he reminded you of this, and your nails dug into your palms in hope that you wouldn’t show the weakness he was looking for.

“What?” you asked him, folding your arms defensively. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Not with me,” he replied, grinning like a cheshire. “I can guarantee it is for some else though.”

Rhysand was right. The normally-masked heat of arousal and frustration radiating off of Azriel was apparent to everyone in the room, and the mix of the view of his chest and the feeling of his leg had your own scent nearly overwhelming his.

You locked eyes with him, and visions of what he imagined doing to you coated their burned-hazel tone as bolts of arousal were sent through your bond

The table flipped, your dress ripped to shreds, your back turned to him, and his pace so deliciously slow inside of you that your whines coated the screams in his head. His hands clutched around your breasts, fitting every inch in his palms easily, and his hot breath against your ear, whispering how much he fucking missed you and needed you—

“Let’s eat,” Rhysand said, clearing his throat awkwardly. You jolted in your seat, blinking rapidly.

Azriel’s gaze never left yours. All he did was smirk.

~*~

You would thank the gods every day for Cassian, because if he hadn’t been distracting Azriel every two seconds with a question about Briallyn’s whereabouts, your self-control would have shattered.

His glances. His presence. His cologne. His mouth. His tongue. His throat. His hands as he sipped his wine.

All of them affected you. All of them.

And you knew, from both the look in his eye and the weeks of being apart, that he expected nothing less.

And he was so fucking smug about it.

You ground your teeth, breathing heavily, practically fuming, as conversations continued on around you. Cursing yourself for the way he was playing you, and winning.

Your dress was too tight, his gaze was too hot, and the voices around you were beginning to choke you from the inside out. So much so that Feyre’s call of your name completely passed over you.

“Y/N,” she called again, stern enough to make you jump. Your fork dropped from your hand, clattering against your golden plate. You faced her quickly and placed your hands in your lap.

She could sound like a High Lady when she wanted to. You tended to forget that.

“I am sorry Feyre,” you said, shaking your head. You tried to swallow down your daze. “Do you need something?”

She smiled, sweetly, but there was something beneath her gaze. Your heart pounded that much quicker.

“Yes,” she said, still sustaining her grin. “I was wondering if you knew of the goddess Nemesis?”

The sounds of eating, chewing, and talking, went suddenly silent.

This proved to you that her question had nothing to do with what she was previously talking about. Luckily, it seemed that Rhysand was just as confused as you were. Your throat tightened, so much so it became hard to swallow.

Feyre was your friend, and you could see in her eye that she had some sort of agenda behind the question, so you tried your best to play along with whatever she was getting at.

“Ye-yes, yes I know of her,” you said, finding your voice. “The goddess of retribution.”

“Yes,” Feyre replied. “And the daughter of Nyx.”

You nodded. She smiled wider, and the reflection of the setting sun in her pale-blue eyes reminded you how much of a goddess she was herself.

“Are you familiar with her involvement with the hunter Narcissus?” she asked, and sipped her wine. You didn’t know how it was possible for someone to drink and grin at the same time.

“Yes, I am,” you began. “Narcissus was an extremely young man whose beauty attracted the interest of a nymph called Echo. When she revealed her love, Narcissus rejected her and asked her to leave him alone. Heartbroken, Echo left and began roaming alone.”

Feyre nodded, urging you to go on, at the same time that Az pressed his leg against the softness of your own. Your eyes glanced towards his, and his dark eyes were illuminated by an afterglow of interest.

So, you continued.

“The sad ending of Echo enraged the goddess of revenge, Nemesis, who decided to punish Narcissus. One day, Nemesis lured the young man to drink water from a pool with calm mirror-like water. Narcissus saw his reflection on the water and fell in love with it.”

Feyre hummed, satisfied.

“And Narcissus died shortly after,” she said. “I have always loved that story.”

“Loved?” Cassian questioned, raising his eyebrows. “What part of a story of vengeance is to be loved?”

“It is not just a story of vengeance,” Feyre countered. “Narcissius rejected all romantic advances and was only able to fall in love with his reflection, making him exactly what his name describes: a narcissist.”

You brought your eyebrows together in thought.

Your mind was close to her own. You could feel it.

“He would only ever be satisfied with himself, and the women attracted to him were nothing to him,” she said, huffing a laugh.

Her eyes locked with yours.

“In my opinion,” she said, picking up her wine once more, “Nemesis merely put him in his place.”

It was then that the shades of blue in her eyes, her feline smile, and the point of her story sprinkled over you like a cold rain.

Put him in his place. Don’t let him win.

As the realization rose, your confidence rose with it. Your back straightened, your body loosened, and your lungs filled with much needed breath.

“Agreed,” you said, and your smile matched her own.

She nodded, winking at you, and went back to her previous conversation.

You took your cold glass of water and brought it to your lips, enjoying how its frigidness coated your throat. It cooled from the inside out—centering you. Your hands had stopped their shaking.

As you sipped you looked up at Azriel, whose face was still painted with arrogance and cocksure.

This time, however, you met it with your own, and you could have sworn Azriel sank lower in his seat.

~*~

Azriel had no idea what the Hel Feyre had just said, but whatever it was clearly affected you. It was like you had shed a skin, awakening a part of yourself that was growing larger and larger by the second.

He didn’t know if he had ever been so desperate for you in his life, and he didn’t care that his entire family knew it.

He wanted you under him—begging, pleading, crying for more—but something about the way you were looking at him made him think you didn’t want that. You wanted something else—something that you would be willing to take.

It was his turn for sweaty hands and a rabid heart.

The two of you managed to keep normal conversations going throughout the dinner, keeping your looks to primarily glances and bumping into each other’s legs, but your scent continued to fill him up. As soon as he’d get caught up in a conversation, his mind on the cusp of forgetting your shared state, you’d fill him up again, and his blood would boil under his skin.

He didn’t know if The Town House would still be standing after the two of you were done.

A small grin etched along your perfect face when he sent the image down the bond.

“Dessert?” Rhysand offered, with a tone suggesting he already knew Azriel’s answer.

Az took in a breath, ready to respond for the both of you, but you beat him to it.

“No thank you,” you said, and stood. Your wooden chair screeched against the hard flood. “We’ll be leaving now. Thank you for everything. Both of you.”

You thanked both Rhys and Feyre with your eyes, but Az noticed you looking at Feyre for a few seconds longer, and he had never wished for the gift of a daemati more than then.

You said your goodbyes to everyone as Azriel stood from the table, and without even a glance his way, you departed from the dining room into the brisk air of the night. Obviously expecting him to follow.

He huffed a laugh before saying, “it was nice to see you all.”

“It was nice to see you too, brother,” Cassian said.

If there was one thing Cassian was bad at, it was hiding his emotions. The broad smile plastered across his face proved that enough.

“I have a feeling we won’t be seeing you for some time?”

His mate next to him let out a rare chuckle, as did the rest of the table.

Azriel just breathed. Taking all of it. “Enjoy your dessert.”

He then walked from the table, buttoning up his coat as he walked. His speed increased after each step, and he pulled open the hazelnut-stained door without hesitation.

Without a question, he enveloped you in his darkness, gripping your sides and holding you close.

“You too!” he heard Amren exclaim as you were both lifted from the grass.

~*~

His mouth met your own before his feet touched the floor.

He tasted of fresh tomatoes and burnt bread, as well as savory wine. His tongue wasted no time in dominating your own as he pushed you back towards the wall.

“Azriel,” you whispered, managing to pull him away from you, and he brought his teeth to your neck.

“Y/N,” he replied, still nipping. His hot breaths shot chills down your body like lightning, and his hands began to drift from your sides to the center of your skirt. Your back was inches from the wall, and every bone in your body was aching to just let him do it. Let him have you. Let him take you.

Not tonight.

Your mind desired otherwise.

You planted your feet, digging your heels into the carpeting of his bedroom floor, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

His body froze, and he pulled away. Completely taking his hands off you. The look on his face was priceless.

“Did I…” he said. Backing away. His swollen lips and flaring wings threatened to undo you. “Did I do too much? I am sorry—

You smiled. “Azriel.”

Your breathless tone sent the tent in his pants higher.

“I want you,” you whispered, and brought your hands to his chest. “I want you right here…”

You pushed him forward. Slowly. His eyes widened in realization as you walked.

“…right now” you finished, and his back hit the closed door with a thud. “I don’t want you in control. Not tonight. Tonight…”

Your eyes remained locked on his as you sank to your knees. Your dress pooling around your legs.

“…I want to be.”

And in that moment, Azriel’s typically dark, dominating eyes—forced to make tough calls, inflict pain, and risk his life for the ones he loves—submitted to the gold of their hazel coloring. They were lighter than you had ever seen them before, and his jaw went slack at the sight of you beneath him.

“Is that okay?” you asked huskily, tilting your head to the side with a smirk.

Azriel blinked. Then blinked again. He swallowed roughly, loud enough for you to hear, before sending down the largest wave of arousal down the bond that you had ever felt.

You whined at the feeling—arching against the floor for any sort of relief—before he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, and you smiled. Sweat was already beginning to culminate on his forehead.

“Good,” you said, looking up at him with darkened eyes. “Now take your clothes off.”

~*~

Azriel did not need to be told twice. He had his upper-half stripped before you could even blink, throwing the pieces somewhere behind you, before reaching for his belt.

His hands were shaking so harshly he could not grasp the buckle, and you chuckled beneath him.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, and any thoughts in his brain besides how you looked and sounded evaporated from his brain.

You brought your steady hands to his buckle and slipped it through the leather, letting his pants fall to the floor. His hands fell to his side—unsure of what to do. Unsure if he would last longer than a few seconds with you. Not like this.

“Can I take these off?” you asked, reaching your nail under his waistband.

“Please,” he heard himself say.

You smiled. “Good.”

You dragged down his underwear to his ankles, springing his dick to his stomach. His face flushed.

You dragged a finger down his shaft, so slowly it almost pained him, and he whined.

“May I?” you asked, still tracing him with the pad of your pointer finger.

He nodded, face contorting in desperation. Beads of sweat were culminating down his hairline and beginning to drip down his face.

“Say it.”

“Yes Y/N. Please.”

And then you took the entirety of him in your mouth, and the last shards of Azriel’s self-restraint imploded.

His eyesight was plastered with stars and his knees weakened against your heat. His eyes fluttered shut in bliss, and the noise he let out—

He felt you smile against him and take him deeper, deeper, deeper.

Azriel’s hands remained firmly at his sides until you brought them to your hair, and he brushed his nails against your scalp.

“Feels—so good,” he managed to get out. He had never sounded less like the Spymaster of the Night Court, but he had never cared less. “You’re—you’re perfect.”

You laughed around his length, licking a strip up to his lower stomach.

“Keep talking.”

And he did.

Through pants and groans and whines, Azriel’s tongue became his paint brush, drawing and sketching you into time with his words.

Perfection.

Mate.

Beautiful.

Endless.

Heaven.

Yours. I’m yours.

By the time he was beginning to fuck into your mouth, he was practically sputtering psalms.

“Gods,” he groaned, holding your head gently as he thrusted into you. “Gods Y/N I can’t—I’ve gotta come. Please.”

You looked up at him, tears in your eyes, and swirled your tongue around him. You cupped his balls, and with one final thrust, he released into you.

In his bliss, he could only think of how lucky he was.

Salt coated his lips when he finally regained consciousness, just as you finished kitten-licking the tiny beads of release that had coated his thighs.

“Did you—swallow? All of it?”

You hummed. “All of it.”

~*~

You saw the shock in his eyes. As well as his need to climax you enough times for you to forget your name.

But you were not done yet.

“Easy handsome,” you said, licking your lips and tracing his clenched thighs with your nails. “I know what I want from you.”

His steadied breathing became faster and faster as you spoke, and the look of him; tattoos covered in sweat, wings flared and twitching, throat bobbing, chest heaving.

You couldn’t have gotten luckier. You really couldn’t have.

And you would continue to prove that to him.

You pressed kisses to his still twitching cock as you stood on shaky legs, feeling how utterly drenched you were in your underwear, and Az whined with each peck.

He moved his hands down to your waist, steadying you against him, and you smiled up at him. Pure love in both of your eyes, with Azriel’s gold completely covering his darkness.

You loved him like this the most—blissed out, and happy. Grateful.

“I’m gonna turn you around, okay?”

He nodded. Repeatedly. His eagerness was beginning to poke through.

You laughed. “Okay.”

And you positioned yourself against the door, spinning him to face you.

He immediately reached for the strings of your corset top, still shaking, but you stopped him.

“No,” you said, and brought your hands up his naked arms, tracing every muscle and tattoo as you did.

A flush came to his cheeks again, and his muscles flexed as you glided over them. If you didn’t know him better, you would think it was coincidental.

You reached his shoulders and brushed his curls from his face, before pushing him down.

And down.

And down.

Until one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist was on his knees before you, lifting up the skirt of your dress, and kissing up your leg.

“Good,” you whispered. “That’s good. Just like that.”

He exhaled a hot breath against you, sending chills up into your skull, and he rose and rose up to your underwear until his entire head was hidden underneath your skirt.

You arched against him as he pulled your underwear down with his teeth, and you continued your praises.

“Fuck Azriel,” you said. “I can only imagine how pretty you look right now.”

A groan came from under the fabric.

You wished everyone in the Night Court knew how badly the deadly Spymaster enjoyed being called pretty.

“Eat me out now,” you whispered.

And he did.

Fuck did he ever.

He started with strips, teasing you, just as you asked, before delving in completely, so harshly that he began raising you off the floor.

The room was soon filled with your pants and whines, as well as your constant praise and instruction.

Higher baby.

Gods you sound so good.

I missed you so fucking much.

You’re perfect at this. Like you’re made for me.

There—right there.

My perfect mate.

It was when he began torturing you with his mouth and coaxing your clit with his fingers that your climax was on the brink of explosion.

“Almost there—almost there Azriel you’re doing perfectly.”

He groaned in response, and you noticed his empty hand beginning to drift down to his pants. But he hesitated.

“Touch yourself Azriel,” you said huskily, panting. He didn’t hesitate.

With the band in your belly becoming closer and closer to snapping, Azriel between your legs attending to your every beck and call, and the dizzying feeling that was sex with your mate, your mind was drenched in a haze of ecstasy.

“So…so close,” you whispered, continued to arch and lurch and ride into his mouth. “Are you?”

He nodded. Good.

With one last kiss to your clit, your body went under the too-familiar wave. With one last second of consciousness, however, you reached your hand forward and stroked down Azriel’s wing just so.

The both of you erupted together—Azriel’s siphons filled the room with their dark blue, and your soul warmed with it. No other shade of blue would ever be enough for you.

You blinked, finally seeing color instead of a blur of stars, and tears of pleasure were dribbling down your cheeks. The feeling in your legs returned slowly, and you were met with Azriel kissing down them before coming out from beneath the satin fabric.

He remained on his knees, but his face was coated with your pleasure, as well as a smile with enough power to bring you down to your own.

“How’d I do?” he asked. Genuinely.

You ran your hair through his thick, curling hair, and said, “Perfectly.”

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[rakiah]

Ok. I had this pic-answer since age on my files that I decided to finish BUT I CAN’T REMEMBER TO WHICH ASK IT WAS DONE DDD8 So first, I’M SORRY and second, if the nice person who sent me their cute Pomboy to interact with my scamps recognize their son AGAIN I’M SORRY AAA (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) I recall he writes scripts for the Film research club (meaning the restless twins unable to wait for the final script always sneak behind him to quickly read over his shoulder) and he is based on the corset from the fairytale of Snow White, his story was pretty good!

[onboardsorasora]

Just a silly thing I thought of. Sweet and fluffy thoughts of Maxiel parents at the Renaissance Fair.

“Hanna banana do you want another– no don't eat that!” Daniel scooped up the toddler in his arms, tickling under her arms to get her to giggle. Her poofy princess dress floofed over his tattooed arms, making him look like he was holding a giggling ice cream cone.

Daniel smiled and kissed her ruddy, chubby cheeks, walking them back to their group that were holding spots in the little grandstands. They'd been at the Renaissance Fair all afternoon, seeing all the different acts and artisans. Now they were waiting on the final jousting show of the day to begin.

It was their last excursion of the afternoon, Max had eagerly wanted to see the thrilling conclusion after the Tournament of Champions turned into a fake bloodbath filled with intrigue and subplots of deception and political drama.

Hanna squealed a happy sound and reached out of the circle of Daniel's arms towards Max who grinned over at them. Daniel found himself struck dumb as always at how beautiful Max looked when he and Hanna looked at each other like they both hung the moon and stars.

Max took Hanna in his arms and the baby burrowed her face into Max's bare neck. Daniel reached over to flick an errant loc of hair from Max's eyes. His baby blues looked bright and especially vibrant today under his dark blue eyeshadow.

“Did you enjoy looking at the horses?” Max asked, using the billowing sleeve of his costume to wipe at a smudge of dirt on their daughter’s cheek.

“She didn't even like want to look. Started toddling towards the bar that one.” Daniel chuckled and Max exhaled a laugh, clutching Hanna close and kissing at her beaming cheeks.

“Oh no lil bean, you're not old enough to try mead yet.” Lewis leaned over and tickled Hanna’s side, grinning when she giggled into Max's skin.

Daniel packed away the half eaten snacks in the bag in their stroller and then slipped his now free arm around Max's tiny corseted waist. His red and blue wench’s costume was beautiful in how it showed off his neck, shoulders and chest.

“Daniel, could you– my knot came undone again.” Max asked sheepishly and Daniel pecked his cheek before kneeling happily at his booted feet. He made quick work of bunching Max's long skirts and knotting them at thigh height so that his darling wouldn't overheat in the humidity.

“Every time you knot it you go higher and higher. I think you are trying to expose me to all these people, maybe.” Max teased.

“Babe with those legs, everyone will be getting a treat.” Daniel smirked at Max's blush.

“God you both are gross.” Lando complained walking up to them, his hands laden with drink. He handed a copper tankard to a now standing Daniel, and Lewis.

“One day you'll grow up and find someone you can stand in the daylight young one.” Daniel teased, accepting a silver tankard as well and popping a metal straw in the sparkling liquid. He brought it to Max's pink lips.

Lewis snorted and sipped his own drink before getting everyone's attention. “We have to remember to take that group pic.”

“I wish we thought about it before Hanna spat up on Daniel's costume.” Max commented mournfully, looking over at the large three that adorned Daniel's chest instead of the vest and shirt that matched them as a pair.

“Eh, no sweat it Maxy. I don't think our little princess liked it as much as you did.” Daniel laughed. “Next year we can be a pirate family.”

“And if you're lucky, Hanna won't want to be a dinosaur.” Lando chuckled which caused them all to laugh.

[written-in-flowers]

Bestie i know youre swamped with requests and life in general but the thought of rosebud asking for otto in the middle of a council meeting just to have him bc shes feeling horny has not left my mind since you mentioned it in part 2 😭

Just a random thing too: i have otto hightower as my lockscreen pic and i assume people whos seen it wonder why i have and old man on my lockscreen but tHEY DONT KNOW HIM LIKE I DO HE'S MY POOR MEOW MEOW HES MY BLORBO MY FAVOURITE CHEW TOY MY daddy

A/N: I have yet to change my lockscreen (Namjoon from BTS holds my heart in his big hands), but I totally get where you're coming from lmao I absolutely adore Otto and he's become one of my faves <3 Life has definitely kept me from putting out requests, but just know I am writing lol

Warnings: public sex, quickie, breast/nipple play, and voyeurism (a little bit).

***

He should have suspected something when you came nearly flying into the small council room. Breathless, you bowed to Viserys and excused yourself for the sudden intrusion, but you needed to speak with him. You said it was urgent, and important. Viserys, entirely fond of you, allowed him to leave. A streak of panic ran through his back as he followed you out of the council chamber and into the corridor. You rushed ahead of him, your blue and grey gown billowing behind you, and led him around a corner. He worried it might be Cedric or another personal matter. Had Cedric's condition worsened? The maester said your son was at full health again. Had you become ill? You didn't appear feverish or injured.

Had Daemon approached you? The Prince left King's Landing early this morning, and it'd be like him to visit you. He felt his blood boiling already picturing the handsome prince putting his hands on you. He'd kill him. He'd kill him with his bare hands.

However, that turned out not to be the case. Otto noticed you guided him into an empty corridor, then outside nowhere near your chambers or the maester's tower. He spotted the fire burning in your eyes, your heavy breathing and your hands immediately grasping for him. Halfway down the corridor, you pulled him out of sight into a slot in the wall. Behind a large stone dragon statue, you and Otto were out of sight of anyone passing by. You pressed yourself to the wall and kissed him fiercely. Your lips crashed into his, and hungrily opened his mouth to touch his tongue. Otto did not mind the kiss, even with teeth briefly gnashing together, and certainly didn't object to the hands reaching under his doublet to untie his breeches.

"What is the meaning of this, sweetling?" he asked amusedly, pecking your lips while you slid your hand into his pants. He gasped when your gentle hand grasped his shaft and started slowly tugging it. "Could you not wait for me?"

"No," you whined, kissing at his neck and putting his hand on your breast. You didn't wear a corset. He could tell from how nothing kept you from him. "I couldn't."

"We were in the middle of an important discussion, rosebud."

"You can go back to it when I'm done with you."

He'll admit, this had been a fantasy of his since you mentioned it on your wedding night. He liked the idea of you coming to see him, aroused and wet already, and desperate for his cock. Otto braced himself against the wall behind you while you stroked him. Your dress already slightly off your shoulders, it didn't take much to pull them down further until your breasts spilled out. Otto licked one of your nipples, hearing you whimper at the tongue lashing the sensitive center. He gave it a few soft suckles, focusing on your pleasure while you pulled him out of his breeches. How you aroused him so easily. It only took a little bit of stroking to make him suddenly hard. But, he knew you'd only take him when it was rock solid and standing at attention for you. He groaned, sucking your other nipple, when he felt your thumb rub the underside of his tip. You horny little girl. Feeling one of his hands go down your side, you lifted your dress a bit for him to stick his hand between your thighs.

Gods, you were wet. Soaking. Dripping. He wondered how you'd become so aroused so quickly. Otto liked to think you'd been playing with yourself, imagining him there with you, before you realized fingers aren't good enough. He understood that sometimes having a partner was better than doing it alone. You must've been needy if you wanted him so much you interrupted a small council meeting. Rolling his fingers over the center of your clit, he moved them up and over it repeatedly. This drove you wild. Your slick coated his fingers, dripping into his hand, and made it easier for him to tease you. He continued licking and kissing your breasts, unable to help himself; you massaged his length with both hands now, his precum making it easier for you. He wanted to be inside you; especially now that he knew your desperation for him.

"Fuck me, Otto," you moaned again, eyes closing at his fingers sliding over your entrance. "Please. Don't tease me anymore. Just put it in me, please."

"As you wish."

He lifted you so your legs went around his waist, and your arms hooked around his neck. Holding you up against the wall, he sheathed himself fully inside you. He couldn't believe what he was doing, and with such a beautiful woman. He did not hold back at all. Otto slammed himself inside you, his balls slapping your ass every time he pushed upwards. You buried your face in his neck, using his clothes to muffle your moans. He gritted his teeth to keep back his own groaning; your tight walls clenched him, as if your body wished to trap him inside you. He looked to see your tits bouncing with the force, supple with your hard nipples right in front of him. Otto loved watching them whenever he could. They were all his. Every inch of you belonged to him. The fact that you willingly sought him out for a bit of pleasure awed him. He never thought he'd have such a young, sensual, lascivious beauty in his arms, chest exposed and cunt squeezing him. He almost came from that alone, but you came first. In a few more thrusts, Otto felt you tremble against him and give muffled commands for him to keep going at that pace; that he was hitting the right spot, and to never stop. Soon, his sweet rosebud was slicking him with her cum. He heard a soft squishing coming from below, and he guess you leaked more than he thought.

Otto pounded you into the wall soon enough, spilling his seed deep inside you. It mixed with your juices to create more mess. All the tension that built up inside him released the moment he climaxed. Otto knew his arms and thighs will ache tomorrow, but it was worth it to satisfy you. He kissed your lips, feeling you coming down from your orgasm, and held you there for a few minutes. Then he set you down to the floor.

"Thank you, Husband," you whispered, kissing his lips. "You always know exactly what to do to make me cum so much."

"I hope so. I've been inside you long enough to know by now." He pecked your lips, and nuzzled your nose, "I do wonder what stirred up my wife so much she came seeking me out..."

"N-Nothing special," you said. "I'd been reading that book again, and the stories make me so wet..." you straightened yourself up, fixing your hair, "And I get wetter when I imagine you doing those things to me."

"Pray tell," he replied, tucking himself back into his trousers, "What 'things' did you read about?"

You gave a mischievous smile, and said, "You'll have to find out some other time. I believe you have a meeting to get back to, don't you?"

He chuckled, pinching your chin and kissing you, "You little tease."

The both of you shared a sincere kiss, full of love and tenderness, before pulling away. Looking presentable, you each stepped out from behind the statue. Nobody came down this hall in the morning, so he doubted anybody spotted or heard you. You gave him one final kiss, said you'd see him at supper, and left him standing in front of the small council chamber. He watched you leave, amazed by your resilience. You walked as if your husband had not just been inside you, giving a quick one before continuing his day. Walking back into the council room, he imagined his cum slowly leaking from your sex and onto your inner thighs. He'd love to lick it up for you, then spit it back into your pretty mouth. Perhaps he'll do that tonight, if you were up for it again.

"I trust everything is all right with Y/N and Cedric?" the king asked once he sat back down.

"All is well, I assure you, Your Grace," he answered. "My lady wife can be quick to the worse conclusions when it comes to Cedric."

"She is a new mother, after all," Lord Beesbury chimed in. "It's only natural for her to be worried."

"Agreed," the king said. "Shall we discuss the coppers, Lord Beesbury?"

"Yes, Your Grace. The crown has spent-"

Otto listened to Lord Beesbury inform them of the crown's recent expenses, but in the back of his mind, he pictured you back in your chambers. You liked to nibble on food after sex, so he imagined Emely brought you a small spread with tea. He wished he could be with you. He'd hold you close on your bed, kissing you softly while you talked. Perhaps he'll go to you when the meeting ends. A nice tea with you and Cedric sounded nice.

He did wonder what aroused you so suddenly...

***

(Earlier that day)

You'd left Cedric in the nursery with Helaena and her children while you went to fetch Emely. The girl told you she'd be back with Cedric's blanket some time ago, and she hadn't returned. You didn't mind going to find her, but it wasn't like Emely to not work quickly. Walking up the stairs towards your bedroom, you stopped when you heard a soft moan. It made you pause and listen at the door.

"-Yes, yes, just like that...Just like that...Moan how she moans."

You recognized Daemon's voice immediately. The heavy panting and moaning belonged to Emely; you'd been with her enough times to pick out the sounds. However, she did sound slightly different. She'd changed her voice slightly to mimick yours as best she could. Carefully, you opened your chamber door a crack to peek into the room.

Laying bent over the dining table, dress at her waist and breasts flat on the table, Emely fisted the cloth on the table. They both faced profile to the door, so you saw where their bodies met; Emely's ass rippled each time she was thrusted into. You saw the need for release in her eyes. Sweat beaded her forehead, making stray hair strands stick to her skin, and her braided hair became messy and loose. You looked up from her to the man behind her. Daemon, sweaty and half naked, gripped Emely's hips and pounded into her harshly. The sounds of his body snapping into hers mingled with their moans and grunts. You saw his pale chest and stomach, years of training giving him hard muscles. His silver hair chopped at his shoulders was tousled, and curtaining his face. He kept his eyes on where his and Emely's bodies met, seeing his cock disappear inside her each time. You should be outraged. You should storm into the room and demand an explanation. He's supposed to be on a ship headed back to Pentos.

Then, Daemon looked up. He looked up and stared right at the door where you were. Rather than call to you or say anything, he smirked and chuckled. He began making long strokes so you saw It going inside Emely. He even pushed her dress further up for you to have a better view. Daemon said so much more with his eyes than his mouth. They scanned down your body, undressing you and peeling back layers, licking his lips and letting out another grunt. You clenched your thighs together watching them. Your nipples slowly became erect, and you had a desire to touch them. Daemon must've noticed this dark lust in your stare, because by his grin, he dared you to touch yourself.

No. You couldn't. You wouldn't. Not to Otto. Not to your husband. You instantly shut the door, and therefore shut Daemon Targaryen out of your mind. You'd heard from Emely what a fantastic lover he is; that prostitutes often looked on as he took other women, wishing it was them. Otto was better. Otto loved you. He knew your body in ways Daemon did not, and never would. You stormed out of the tower and headed for the small council chambers.

You'd have him. Not Daemon. Never Daemon.

***

A/N: ooooh close, but no cigar, huh? Rosie almost gave in for a second there, but she loves our Otto far too much to betray him that way. Hmmm, I wonder what it'd take for her to finally crack? Too bad Daemon's no longer in King's Landing. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this little drabble, thanks so much <3

[onlymingyus]

GIRL I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW HOSHI ROT SAME SAME.

So. I have a few.

- I bet Hoshi it's the type to squeal and get hyped when you do little things: set a pic of him as your lockscreen, support his tiger agenda, stay awake waiting for him to get home... I bet he'd tell everyone about all those things.

- He's absolutely the type to get matching things for you both: hoodies, silly pajamas, phone cases ...

And now for the true brain rot:

- I see him being open to try new things in bed but I think he'd hesitate a lot when it involves "hurting" you in some way (like spanking or edging) Like, he'd say "Okay let's do it!!" And then in the last moment scream "Ahhhh I can't" and hide his face in your neck

- You could surprise him with nice lingerie one day and then he'd get obsessed with it and randomly buy you cute sets for you to wear (and for him to ruin)

I'll be back if I remember more brb

Me opening this ask and being overwhelmed with feelings. But fr thank you for sending it in. Lets go over these one by one shall we?

I bet Hoshi it's the type to squeal and get hyped when you do little things: set a pic of him as your lockscreen, support his tiger agenda, stay awake waiting for him to get home... I bet he'd tell everyone about all those things.

100% percent. Imagine him just bragging to the rest of the group about how supportive you are. Holding you close, nuzzling your cheek with his nose as he takes your phone and shows your lockscreen to like Jihoon. Who ofc just rolls his eyes. "My baby loves me so much." You'd be so embarrassed but then just pick up his phone and show them the picture he has set of you. "Looks like my baby loves me so much too?" He'd just laugh and kiss your neck nodding.

- He's absolutely the type to get matching things for you both: hoodies, silly pajamas, phone cases ...

Like no joke every time he comes home you get a new matching item. He gets that cute little cat beanie, well so do you just in a different color. "Couple beanies!"

- I see him being open to try new things in bed but I think he'd hesitate a lot when it involves "hurting" you in some way (like spanking or edging) Like, he'd say "Okay let's do it!!" And then in the last moment scream "Ahhhh I can't" and hide his face in your neck

LOL I love this so much. The idea of him nodding and just being like I can do that sure. Being such a daddy about it. All sexy. Getting you naked, all laid out for him. His hand running over your ass then as soon as he's about to slap your ass he just laughs and hides his face. "But what if it hurts?!" You would just groan into your pillow as he kissed your neck and ran his fingers between your legs trying to make you feel good instead. "That's the point Soonyoung...a little pain feels good baby." Now you've peaked his interest again.

- You could surprise him with nice lingerie one day and then he'd get obsessed with it and randomly buy you cute sets for you to wear (and for him to ruin)

You'd have more lingerie than clothes and then imagine you decide to wear like a corset top under a blazer in public??? He's fucking done for. He's drooling into his dinner. He's undressing you with his eyes the entire dinner and then by the time he has you in the car he's got his fingers buried inside you muttering in your ear about how fucking delicious you look. How he can wait to ruin your lingerie and you.

——————————————————

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[capricornrisingsstuff]

Breaking House Rules…and the Internet

Just a little one shot of an idea that came to mind when I saw THIS pic.

May contain: spanking, themes of a sexual nature, slight degradation, minors DNI, smoking.

It was just past midnight when you stumbled through the door to your apartment, your home you shared with Steve Harrington. You told him not to wait up but he insisted. You had noticed he had watched every Instagram story you’d posted through the course of the night and as the tequila flowed, your confidence built.

So when you and your friends were in club bathroom, aesthetic wallpaper and mirrors adorning the walls, you decided to be a bit more risqué with your selfies. You bent over the sink, pouting into the mirror; lipstick in one hand, phone in the other while you snapped a sultry selfie. Lord knows Instagram would have a field day with the way your chest spilled over the cups of your corset dress.

You’d noticed that Steve had seen the story but didn’t reply. And that’s when you knew you were in for it. Your panties were already damp at the thought as you sauntered into the hallway of your apartment. “Stevieeee..?” You called out into the darkness of your home, save for one low light coming out of the bedroom. “In here sweetheart”.

You sighed, following his voice into your shared bedroom; the sight that met you made your thighs rub together. Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone, cigarette dangling off his lips. “I thought we agreed no smoking in the bedroom Steve?” You pouted as you stalled in the doorway. Steve, letting out a huff of laughter around his cigarette, looked up at you through the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Baby…are we seriously going to talk about me breaking house rules when you’re out there breaking the internet with your tits?” he replied as he turned the phone to show you your Instagram story from the club bathroom. “God Steve it’s just a picture” you huffed as you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms to push your tits up further. “Oh it’s just a picture is it doll?” Steve questioned as he reached out and pulled you onto his lap. You straddled his hips and your dress bunched up, “it’s just a picture…well…let’s see what kind of picture I can take when your ass is all red after I spank some manners into you.” You squealed as his hands, that were previously caressing your ass cheeks over your panties, came down with a smack.

“So doll, lie down like a good girl and let daddy paint that little ass of yours all red. Or would your rather me fuck you into next week and let me paint your pretty tits with my cum? Your choice darling. Be a good girl and make the right one”.

[pink-bimbodoll]

I’m commissioning a custom posture collar that’s going to extend to my chest and go under my arms with a corset back all in pink leather with a heart cut out and a tuggable ring meant to match a harness I have from a local leather artist here and I cannot wait!! Had my first measuring appointment in the studio today, and added a new collar to the order, too 💕 This is the best pic I have of the harness, but it’s a lovely pink with purple stitching and green backing~