#..n i still need to draw more dresses to practice but- i think this is good enough

[dailytinfoilchef]

[9] I've seen many other hermits being drawn in dresses, but not nearly as much tfc...

So let me change that real quick-

#dailytinfoilchef #tinfoilchef #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft fanart #zach creates #tbh i had this idea like. 2 years ago but never had the motivation to do it #..n i still need to draw more dresses to practice but- i think this is good enough #anyways

[squirmhoney]

honestly just the idea of aegon being obsessed with reader is just insane. like he’s fully obsessed with her, he doesn’t want anyone else to have her, and she’s seemingly innocent so he wants to teach her how to do things and gets angry when other guys make a move on her. idk if this makes sense??

Warnings: Dark. Dub con. Pervy men. A lot of smut. Incest implied but not stated. Public sex. 18+ A/N: Ahh I'm loving obsessed Aegon and want to make him a bit softer. However, I hope you're okay I made it into more of a head canon/drabble and added a little bit of Aemond at the bottom because I miss him.

Aegon

Obsessed!Aegon who wakes up wrapped up in his sheets with you, bodies pressed so tightly together. This could have been such a sweet moment, the early light of the sun beating down on your skin, but Aegon’s perverse mind never allowed him a moment's peace. It’s what you woke to, Aegon kissing underneath one of his t-shirts you wore, positioned between your legs as he tried to wake you. You could feel his hard dick pushed up to your damp panties, rubbing slowly against you as he tried to get off. You whimper at the feel of him, mumbling his name to get his attention. As soon as he realised you were awake, his head is popping out of your t-shirt, asking if you wanted him to make you feel good. One nod and that man is grinding against you, making you both whimper and moan in bliss.

Obsessed!Aegon who comes down for breakfast a minute later than you, not wanting to draw attention to the both of you if you came down together. However, he can’t help but eye you up as he makes himself a coffee, wondering why you look so good. As soon as he sits next to you, he’s asking you these questions. Which leads you to reply with an “are you joking?” look as you raise your brows at him. But he’s insistent and all you can do is laugh pointing out your bed head, the baggy t-shirt of his and joggers that you are wearing. He still swears you look good and to prove that he places your hand over his boner, thrusting his hips up into it for a tiny bit of release. You quickly steal it away, ducking your head away as you try to hide your flushed face from the prying eyes around the table. 

 Obsessed!Aegon who literally feels like just touching you isn’t enough. He is the kind to be so obsessed he needs to be under your skin. Being buried inside those velvet walls of yours will just have to do. You’re literally trying to get ready, putting your makeup on at his desk with your little setup but he’s so damn needy. He’s literally got you on his lap, holding you a few inches above him as he fucks into you. You’re scolding him for his behaviour at first, telling him he needs to get his head out of the gutter. But then his cock is hitting that spot inside of you that has you biting down on your lip, hand falling onto one of his thighs as your nails dig in. It’s a few seconds later, when Aegon is kissing you, practically shoving his tongue down your throat to keep you quiet, that his mum knocks on the door, asking if he knows where you’ve ran off to. With his hand pressed against your lips, he’s saying he has no idea, drilling into you harshly. 

Obsessed!Aegon who admires how dressed up you got for your date with him even if it took longer than expected (because of how much of a horn dog he is). Who is cursing in his head though that you had to wear that sundress he loved so much, especially when it had the man at the ice cream stand eyeing you up so much. But he’s later thankful for it as he pushes you down into the grass behind some trees, kissing down your body as you try to push him away. He pouts up at you, with a darkened gaze as he asks, “you love me, don’t you?” That’s all he needs as you spread your legs, allowing him to hike that sundress up to your waist, wasting no time as he attaches his mouth to your soaked panties, only moving them to the side when he thinks your moans aren’t loud enough for him. 

Obsessed!Aegon who grins proudly as you stumble back to his car, making sure to pass the ice cream stand on the way. The man from before is now staring at you with wide eyes,  noticing your fucked out expression as you practically cling onto Aegon. He makes sure to park the car somewhere a bit more secluded, knowing he won’t make it back to the house in time to have you. Within seconds he has you bare in the back seats, legs pressed between the pair of you as he folds you in half. You whine at him afterwards, telling him he ruined your makeup and hair but he soothes your sadness with a featherlight kiss on your cheek, telling you that he likes you better just like this. 

Obsessed!Aegon who didn’t even realise that you had spent all day out together, not answering a single call from your parents. They’re waiting for you, being instantly alarmed by your appearance. You’ve ruined your dress with grass stains, there are leaves in your done up hair as well. Aegon is quick to joke about how you fell, because of how clumsy you are and they eventually believe him, even if they don’t want to. 

Obsessed!Aegon who waits impatiently for you to make your way to his bedroom. Honestly he is thinking about going to find you and dragging you here himself. But then you’re poking your head through his door, slipping in quietly in that matching set and silk robe he loved so much. You’ve moisturised as well, easily being able to glide his hand up your legs. He’s biting on his knuckles, trying to restrain himself from marking up every part of your body. The only thought that stops him is the idea of you bouncing on his cock, eager to teach you the new position as he strips you of your clothes. He guides you up and down, letting you take full control as he just lies back to watch your tits jiggle as you ride him. But he doesn’t last long, hands having to grope every part of your naked skin, mouth attaching to one of your nipples as he takes control, fucking into you. 

 Obsessed!Aegon who knows he puts you through a lot with his constant needs but does really care about you. He shows you that as he bathes you with affection under the steam of the shower. He doesn’t try to fuck you or get himself off in the process. Instead he rubs your back soothingly as he holds you in his arms, telling you how good you are to him, how he wouldn’t have you any other way. 

Aemond

Obsessed!Aemond who is slightly different in the way he treats you. Waking you up with his mouth attached to your folds, licking and drinking you so you wake up already moaning as your day begins. He wants you to know how much he cares for you, how much he desires you, pushing two fingers into you as he licks at your swollen clit. You looked best like this, strung out on noises of pleasure as you laid in his bed, completely forgetting where you are as you become louder. 

Obsessed!Aemond who swears he hasn’t got a super high sex drive but does find you incredibly divine in the morning. He can’t help but press a soft kiss to your cheeks as you eat your breakfast, not caring who sees. He also can’t help but deny how much he enjoys how you smother him in kisses when you’ve managed to get away from your family, returning the affection ten fold as you cuddle into him.

Obsessed!Aemond who can’t deny you when you touch him. He knows your kisses and cuddling was only meant to be innocent but you don’t understand how badly you drive him wild when your tits press up against his chest or the way you press down on his crotch. He’s indecent he knows for taking advantage of the situation, turning your playful touches into a full make out session. The kisses are sloppy as he looks to have you a pathetic mess on top of him, guiding your hips to take your own pleasure as you grind your hips down and onto him. 

Obsessed!Aemond, whose jealousy is twisted and cruel, that burns within him as he watches another man at the shopping centre trying desperately to flirt with you. Of course you don’t flirt back, you’re too innocent to know what’s going on as you smile at the man. He’s dragging you into the nearest bathroom, making it clear to the man what he’s about to do, while all you can do is follow him. The floor of the bathroom is dirty but Aemond doesn’t care, shoving you to your knees in front of him as he whips out his cock from the restraint of his jeans. His hand is tight in your hair as he groans, fucking into your mouth without care for how your jaw aches or for how you gag. You’re a drooling mess around him, eager to please as you hollow out your cheeks, only to cry and try harder when he hisses that you can definitely do better. 

Obsessed!Aemond who cleans you up, cleaning you up with wet wipes from that dirty bathroom. Even promising he’ll shower you and take good care of you when you get home, trying to make you stop pouting at him with those wet eyes. He pushes you out of the bathroom, lacing his hand with yours as he guides you to your favourite shop, hoping that maybe a nice treat would get him back on your good side again. 

Obsessed!Aemond who gets you guys home at a reasonable time to avoid any confrontation with your parents. Only for your mother to eye him up as he notices the bags of shopping you had got all on his credit card, not understanding why she was so disapproving of it all as you tried to show her. 

Obsessed!Aemond who makes good word of his promises, already having a hot bath waiting for you with him inside of it. Lathering up your body with soap as he takes his sweet time caressing every single inch of it. He doesn’t want you to think this is just sex between you so he doesn’t push it any further even when he feels his cock get hard being pressed against your ass cheek. It’s you that’s insistent, guiding his hands to where you need him while you work your hand against him. Both of you cursing into each other's mouths as you try to keep quiet, you rubbing his cock while making good work to slip your thumb against his head, him rubbing circles into your clit, nibbling at your lip as he does so. 

Obsessed!Aemond, who pats you dry with a towel, moisturises every inch of your body with lotion, even taking time to braid your hair when you’re finished blow drying it. He places you down onto the bed gently, more than ready to go to sleep but you’re not that tired yet, so he settles for a bit of pillow talk instead. Aemond who can’t help but adore every part of you as you tell him stories, listening to every word as he gets lost in the sound of your laughter. Who couldn’t help himself but kiss you when you looked and sounded so sweet, only meaning to show you how much he cared but within minutes has your leg hooked around his hip as he fucks into you. He takes it slow, apologising that he doesn’t mean to be this way but it’s what you do to him. 

#aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #Aemond x reader x aegon #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #dark!aegon x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen smut

[wholoveseggs]

Can you do a smut story about y/n teasing elijah at a party then later on it leads to elijah being dominant but also Sensual/passionate in bed

Whine

gif credit --- > @forbescaroline {this gif is so hotttt}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You make the mistake of testing Elijah's patience and he puts you in your place.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @ashloring & anon, I hope you don't mind that I combined the Ideas ♡♡

~I have so many requests {over 30!!!} so at this point I'm just going with whatever I fancy... thanks for understanding & don't hesitate to send me more {I love reading all of your ideas}~

5k words - Warnings: smut, soft? dom!elijah {the most dom i've written thus far}, tiny bit of choking, lilttlllee bit of squirting, mild bdsm, Elijah using his belt instead of his tie, jealousy, possessiveness, wasting wine...

Your boyfriend is a true gentleman, sweet and attentive, always putting your needs before his own, but as much as you tried, you couldn't get him to be rough with you in bed. You understood why, the trauma in his past made him afraid to hurt you. But you completely trusted him, so when he finally relented to your begging and he was only half as rough as you'd been wanting, still holding back, you knew you needed to do something.

There was a solution to this, one you had been considering for a long time. 

Make. Him. Snap.

The first step was to be a total tease while making sure his brothers could see, flaunt your body in front of them, make him jealous, that would set the fire burning in his veins.

The second step was to touch him in all the places that you know he's sensitive and push his boundaries. Turn him on until you break his perfect sense of control.

Third was to make him chase you, you'd run away and see how far he'd go to get you, then you'd let him catch you.

And tonight you were putting the plan into action.

The dress you chose was strategic, it was skin tight and black, with a scoop neckline, it ended at mid thigh. The dress itself would have looked modest if it weren't for the fact you weren't wearing any underwear or bra. Your ample breasts being held up by the tightness of the dress, your nipples poking through ever so slightly. The heels you were wearing were stiletto and made your legs look long and lean. Your makeup dark and smokey around your eyes, with a bright red lipstick to draw attention to your mouth. Your hair styled in big loose curls.

All in all you looked sinful, and you were about to go to war.

Klaus is the first to notice your attire, he pulled you in for a hug, a wholly uncharacteristic move, he then took a step back and looked you up and down, a smirk playing on his lips.

"My my my, aren't you a vision." He said, his voice was a low growl, his gaze lingered on your low neckline.

You grinned, you knew how this game was played, you'd had the practice.

"Thank you Klaus, I was hoping you would think so." You say, flashing him a flirty smile.

"So glad you could make it to my little party," He says, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him, you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

"Oh I don't think anything associated with you could be described as little," You tease, running a finger down his chest.

"Is that so?" He asks, his lips inches from your own, his voice is low and dangerous, but he still has a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Elijah was watching the entire exchange with pure rage, the way Klaus was touching you, the way you were touching him.

The worst part was that the two of you weren't even touching sexually, just small caresses to his chest and face and he was behaving as though he wanted to devour you whole.

He didn't know why you were acting this way, usually you were so polite, well mannered, respectful, but right now you weren’t behaving.

The fact that you were doing this in his family home was insulting, the fact that it was his brother whom you were behaving this way with was infuriating.

When you caught his eye and winked at him his stomach dropped, you were doing this on purpose.

Klaus saw the exchange between you and his brother and he grinned, he didn't mind being a pawn in your fantasy, the fact that you were willing to flirt so outrageously with him was an ego boost, not to mention the way it was making his brother furious.

So this is a game?

Well, Elijah never lost at a game, and he wasn't about to start now.

He turned his attention back to you and gave you a cheeky smile, "my brother doesn't crack easily, good luck, you're going to need it." He said, giving you a peck on the cheek.

You smiled back at him, "thank you, I'll remember that."

With that you turned on your heel and left Klaus' side, you walked right past Elijah, making sure your fingers trailed across his chest as you passed him.

He watched your ass as you walked away from him, then he noticed his brothers gaze lingering on the same area.

"Niklaus," He hissed.

"What?" Klaus asked, feigning innocence.

Elijah gave him a look that could melt the paint off the walls, which made Klaus laugh.

"Come on brother, can't you see she wants to play?" Klaus asked.

Elijah walked away before he was forced to resort to violence. As much as it infuriated him to see you behaving this way he had to admit that it was arousing, you looked so beautiful and he couldn't wait to show you exactly what he thought about that dress, but not yet.

Elijah had decided to play your game, he had been watching you all night, and every time you spoke or danced with another man, he felt his temper rising, the way other men touched you, looked at you, made his blood boil.

So he bided his time and waited, sitting down in the lounge with his siblings and observing you as you went from group to group, laughing and flirting, touching people and letting them touch you.

You took him by surprise when you approached him, sitting down next to him to talk to Rebekah.

Your proximity to him, and the way you casually rested your hand on his leg was very distracting, but he stayed calm, even though every time your hand would move an inch higher his heart rate would increase.

"Do you think Klaus would mind if I stole some wine from the cellar?" You asked Rebekah, eyeing Elijah in your periferie, a challenge in your voice.

"No, I'm sure he wouldn't," She answered, smiling.

"Wonderful, I'll be right back," You say, getting up and walking away, exaggerating the sway of your hips, knowing Elijah can't take his eyes off your ass.

He watched you disappear down the corridor, he knew exactly what you were doing. The stubborn part of him wanted to resist, but his body had other ideas.

He found you in the wine cellar, bending over, reaching for a bottle, the fabric of your dress stretched tight across your backside. He took a moment to admire the view, then he closed the door, the sound making you turn around.

"I was wondering how long it would take you." You said, smiling, placing the bottle of wine on the counter in the middle of the room.

He stalked towards you, his expression blank, his movements smooth, when he reached you he grabbed your chin and tilted your face up towards him.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" He growled, his gaze raking over your body.

You widened your eyes, looking up at him and giving him the most innocent look you could manage, "I was just getting a bottle of wine," You say, the tone of your voice was soft, sweet, a stark contrast to the look in your eyes.

Elijah narrowed his eyes at you, a dark smirk on his face, he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of falling for your game, not here anyway.

"Well then, I will leave you to it," He said, dropping his hand from your face, turning around and heading for the door.

"Elijah," You called after him, you hadn't expected him to turn you down, you had planned to have a lot more fun than this.

"Yes?" He replied, pausing in the doorway, looking at you expectantly.

You hopped up onto the counter, your dress riding up your thighs as you spread your legs. Exposing the most intimate part of yourself.

"Don't you want a taste?" You asked, the tone of your voice was low and suggestive, you bit your lip, a sly smile on your face.

"Of the wine?" He asked, the question was rhetorical, the answer was obvious, but he wasn't going to cave so easily.

You nodded.

"Why not, a glass would be lovely," He replied, walking back over to you and picking up the bottle of wine.

He uncorked it and poured two glasses, then he handed one to you, he stood between your legs, maintaining eye contact as he sipped the wine, giving you nothing but a cheeky grin.

You were shocked, and a little annoyed, this was not the reaction you were expecting. You put your glass down and touched his chest, looking at him with wide doe eyes.

"Are you not thirsty?" You ask, moving your hands lower, stopping when they reach his belt.

"Oh, I am," He replied, taking another sip.

You were determined to get a rise out of him, so you slowly slid your hands underneath his shirt, the muscles of his abdomen were hard, and the way he was looking at you made a fire ignite in your core.

"And are you not going to quench your thirst?" You asked, your tone was soft and sweet.

He sighed and set his glass down, taking hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from him.

"That is enough." He growled.

He was still holding onto your wrists, the grip was firm, and the look in his eyes was hungry, a fire burning behind them.

You smirked at him, pleased with the reaction you were finally getting.

He stepped closer, his chest pressing against yours, his face was inches from your own.

"You think that you can beat me? You can't," He whispered.

His mouth was almost touching yours, the proximity of his body was driving you wild, his lips grazed your jaw, then he leaned in and licked the shell of your ear.

You were shaking with anticipation, the warmth of his breath on your skin was intoxicating, you were so turned on.

He took your legs and brought both feet up, planting them on the counter, spreading them apart.

Then he stepped back, his gaze lingered on your center.

"Look at you, so wet, so ready for me," He purred, running his hands up the inside of your thighs, stopping just short of where you wanted him to be.

You bit your lip, trying not to moan, his hands were warm and soft, and you couldn't wait for him to touch you.

You tried to bring your legs together but he held them open, his strength keeping you exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

He grinned, "oh no darling, you don't get to hide from me."

With one hand he reached up and pulled down your dress, revealing your breasts, they bounced slightly when he released them, his eyes darkened as he took them in.

"Stay just like this," He said, his voice low and dangerous, the look in his eyes was pure predatory lust, his pupils were dilated and his breathing was heavy.

You were frozen in place, your legs spread, your dress pulled down, your breasts on display. You watched him take a step back to get the full view, and he groaned at the sight.

He undid his belt, slowly pulling it through the loops, holding it in one hand as he stepped back in-between your legs.

You were starting to regret your plan, you had expected Elijah to react, but you didn't think he'd be so dominant, his control and self restraint were unshakeable, and the fact that he could hold himself back even now made you ache for him, desperate for his touch.

You didn't say anything, you couldn't, your mind was a fog of arousal, and you didn't trust yourself to speak. You just looked up at him, trying your best to not cave under his unrelenting eye contact.

He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over yours, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning your face.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, his tone was soft, but there was an edge to it.

You nodded, your breathing was labored, your heart was beating wildly in your chest.

"Say it," He commanded, his voice was harsh, and his gaze was piercing, boring into you.

"Elijah, please," You begged, the look on his face made you feel like you were losing control of the situation, and you couldn't help but comply.

"Please what?" He asked, his hand caressing your thigh.

"Please, fuck me," You breathed, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your whole body was aching for him, and you could feel how wet you were.

"So filthy," He tsked, "you have no idea what I'm going to do to that mouth."

The thought of Elijah fucking your mouth sent a jolt of arousal through you, the image of him using your throat while he looked down at you with those piercing eyes, made you whimper.

"Well? Get on your knees." He ordered, gesturing for you to move.

You did as he commanded, dropping to your knees and looking up at him expectantly, you could feel the wetness pooling in-between your thighs.

"What a good girl," He cooed, his hand stroking your cheek, the touch was soft, gentle.

"Take my cock out," He ordered, his voice calm and controlled.

You reached up and unzipped his trousers, he was wearing black boxers underneath, the bulge in them was prominent.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, his erection sprang free, and you took a moment to admire him before taking him in your hand, your thumb gliding over the head, smearing precum over the tip.

He closed his eyes, and you saw a shudder go through him, he let out a soft groan and his hands went to your hair.

You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around him, his cock was warm and thick, and you couldn't help but moan as you started to bob your head.

You hollowed out your cheeks, using your tongue to swirl around the tip, you were taking him all the way down, your lips touching the base of his shaft.

"That's it," He groaned, his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place.

You sucked and swirled, licking the underside of his cock, the taste of him was intoxicating, and the feeling of him in your mouth was exhilarating, knowing that it was you who made him feel this way.

His breathing was ragged, his grip on your hair tightened, and his hips started thrusting, forcing his cock further down your throat, his balls slapping against your chin.

You let out a soft hum, the vibrations making him moan, his eyes squeezed shut. You knew he was close, his breathing was ragged, his thighs were trembling, and his moans were growing louder.

You pulled off of him with a pop, you had to tease him a little bit, he wasn't the only one who could be controlling.

He was panting, his cock throbbing, aching to be inside of you. He opened his eyes, they were full of hunger and lust.

And that's when you knew you won.

He grabbed your arm, pulling you up, his fingers digging into your skin, it was painful, but you liked it. He pushed you back against the counter, his mouth on yours, his hands all over your body.

You couldn't believe the effect you were having on him, his kisses were hot and passionate, his hands roaming over your body, his teeth biting your neck.

You were lost in the feeling of him, his touch, his kisses, the heat of his body pressed against yours. He roughly turned you around, wrapping his belt around your wrists, his breath tickling your neck.

He pulled the skirt of your dress up, exposing your ass, the cool air making you shiver, he was so close, and his hands were so warm, you couldn't help but moan as he caressed you, squeezing the cheeks, his nails digging into the flesh.

He then turned you back around, his eyes raking over your body, his gaze stopping at your breasts, his expression was one of desire, and something else, something darker, something dangerous.

He lifted you up, and sat you down on the counter, his fingers trailing over your collarbone, his thumb brushing over your exposed nipples.

"These have been teasing me all night," He growled, pinching one of them.

You gasped, arching your back, pressing your chest against him, wanting more.

He kissed you again, his tongue plunging into your mouth, exploring every inch of it, his hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip.

You were so caught up in the kiss that you didn't notice him reach behind you, grabbing a bottle of wine and uncorking it.

He pulled back and grinned at you, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Elijah, what are you doing?" You asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"Oh darling, I'm just going to have some wine." He said innocently.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, "no, Elijah, don't."

But it was too late, he poured a little down your chest, the cold wine making you shiver, and the sight of it flowing over your breasts was incredibly erotic.

His mouth followed the trail of the wine, his tongue licking and sucking every inch of skin, the feeling of his tongue on you made you moan, his lips and teeth working their magic.

He then moved to your nipple, licking the wine off, his tongue swirling around the peak, his teeth gently nipping at it, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

You were a moaning mess, the sensation of him lapping up the wine and sucking on your nipple was so intense, your breathing was heavy, and you were squirming in strong hold.

He took the other breast in his hand, massaging it, rolling the nipple between his fingers, the stimulation was driving you crazy, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Elijah, please, I need you," You moaned, the pressure in your core was almost unbearable.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" He asked, a smirk on his face.

You glared at him, he was enjoying this, making you beg, his ego getting bigger by the second.

"I said, I need you." You repeated, emphasizing the words, hoping he would take pity on you.

He chuckled, "and why should I give you what you want?"

"Because, if you don't, I'll go find someone else," You challenged, giving him the most serious look you could muster.

His hand went to your throat, his grip was gentle and his eyes twinkled in amusement. He knew you would never do such a thing, and you knew it too.

"Oh really? Who would that be? Niklaus? Rebekah? Kol perhaps?" He asked, his tone mocking, and his smile growing wider.

You bit your lip, knowing you were beaten, but you had to try, he was being such a bastard, and the last thing you wanted to do was cave.

"No, but maybe I'll just go back to the party and find someone else," You countered, your voice steady, but your resolve was starting to crumble.

His other hand crept up your thigh, his fingers slowly grazing your center, the light touch was maddening.

"Is that so?" He purred, his fingers brushing over your clit, making you gasp.

You didn't reply, your eyes closing, you could feel him leaning down, his breath hot on your ear, "do you want to know what I would do to you if I found you with someone else?" He growled, his voice low and seductive.

His fingers were now circling your entrance, and his teeth were scraping over your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"Elijah, please," You whined, your breathing heavy, your hands pulling desperately on the restraints.

"Answer the question," He commanded, his hand squeezing your neck.

You gasped, the pressure from his fingers was just enough to be pleasurable, and you could feel your resolve crumbling.

"Yes, tell me," You breathed.

He hummed, his mouth sucking a spot on your neck, the pleasure from the contact was sending shockwaves through your body.

"I would rip out his heart and feed it to him," He whispered, his lips moving against the shell of your ear.

His words were sending a rush of excitement through you, his possessiveness was incredibly sexy, and the idea of him going so far as to kill for you was so fucking hot.

His fingers finally entered you, sliding into your dripping cunt, the stretch was delicious, and the fullness made you moan.

"Here is what's going to happen," He began, his tone serious, "if you aren't in my bed, naked, in three minutes, I'm going to assume that you decided to be a brat and find someone else to fuck. Is that understood?"

You nodded, his fingers curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made your vision go white.

"Say it," He ordered, his hand tightening around your neck, the pressure was almost enough to make you black out.

"I- I understand," You gasped, your body starting to tremble.

In one swift motion he pulled away and freed you from your restraints. You were still coming down from your high, breathing heavily, watching him fix his clothes.

"Well?" He asked, his voice full of authority, "you only have two minutes and thirty seconds left," he smirked.

You hopped off the counter, and smoothed down your dress, not caring about the fact that there were streaks of wine down your chest.

You made your way back towards the ballroom, not even glancing back at him. You were trying your best to act inconspicuous, but you had very little time and the compound was big.

You half ran, half walked towards the staircase, careful not to draw any attention. When you reached the top of the stairs you were panting, you knew you only had a minute left.

You hurried to his room, throwing open the door, and rushing inside, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

You quickly removed your dress and climbed on the bed, the cool sheets a welcome sensation. You laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling, the anticipation was killing you, and the thought of what he was going to do to you was making you ache with need. You weren't surprised that he bested you, he was a Mikaelson after all, and they never failed to live up to their reputation.

Your breath hitched when you heard the door open, you knew it was him, and the sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence.

"My my, look at you," He murmured, his voice smooth as silk.

He approached the bed, his eyes roaming over your body, "so beautiful, so perfect."

You bit your lip, his words were so sincere, and his tone was so tender, you couldn't help but melt a little.

He undressed himself, taking his time, his eyes never leaving yours. The moonlight was shining through the window, casting an ethereal glow on his skin, highlighting his muscles.

He was breathtaking, his body was perfect, lean and strong, every inch of him was pure masculinity, and the sight of him naked, standing at the foot of the bed, his cock erect and throbbing, was enough to make your mouth water.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you, his eyes boring into yours. You felt so small under his intense gaze, his pupils were blown, and his breathing was ragged.

His mouth descended on yours, his kiss was soft and gentle, his lips moving slowly, tasting and savoring. You pulled a bit on his hair, wanting more, and he complied, his kiss deepening, his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hand wandered between your legs, pushing two fingers inside you, his palm pressed against your clit. He moved his arm up and down, hitting your g-spot with each motion. Your legs began to shake, and your body arched into his, the feeling was amazing, you clung to his arm, nails digging into his skin. He increased his speed, wetness pooling around his fingers, the sounds of his hand inside of you were lewd and obscene.

"Eli- wait" you gasped, on the verge of exploding, your hips bucking wildly, your nails raking over his back, drawing blood.

"Are you going to cum for me?" He growled, his fingers moving faster, his hand pressing harder against your clit.

"Yes, fuck, Elijah, yes," You cried, his name a mantra on your lips.

"Good girl," He cooed, his lips pressed against your ear.

His words sent you over the edge, and your orgasm hit you hard, your vision going white, your body convulsing.

Your walls clenched around his fingers, the feeling was unbelievably intense, and his arm continued to pump inside of you as you gushed all over his hand. He chuckled as you coated his fingers and sheets, clearly pleased with himself.

You were trembling, breathing heavily, and your eyes were still squeezed shut.

"You made a mess of my bed," He said, his voice full of amusement.

"Fuck you," You breathed, your chest heaving, "I hate you so much right now."

He grabbed your hips and pulled you underneath him, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy.

"Is that so?" He mused, his lips grazing your neck.

You pushed on his chest, trying to create some distance between you, but he just grabbed your arms and pinned you down, grinding his cock against you.

"Eli-," You breathed, squirming beneath him, his grip on your wrists tightening.

He hummed, easing himself into you, filling you up with one swift thrust, his cock stretching you, the burn was delicious. You moaned, your walls clenching around him, his hips were flush against yours, and the fullness was overwhelming.

He began to pound into you, his pace so relentless that you were pushed further up the bed with each thrust, the headboard banging against the wall, the sound was echoing throughout the room.

"Where are you going?" He teased, his voice full of lust and mischief as he grabbed your hips and pulled you back underneath him, the new angle allowing him to penetrate deeper.

You cried out, the pleasure was immense, and your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers were digging into his chest, leaving angry red scratches on his skin that healed instantly.

"Fuck, Elijah, yes," You moaned, his name falling from your lips, your eyes were rolling back into your head as your orgasm crashed over you, stars danced behind your eyelids, your whole body was trembling, and your mind went blank.

You tightened around his cock, and he let out a primal growl, the sound sending a rush of heat to your core, his thrusts became erratic, and his pace quickened, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound obscene and erotic.

He slammed into you one last time, spilling his seed deep inside you, the feeling of him filling you up was incredible.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck, the feeling of his weight on top of you was comforting and familiar, and the sensation of his skin pressed against yours was soothing.

You ran your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, his hum of approval making you smile. He rolled the both of you over so that you were lying on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Are you okay? Was that too much?" He asked softly, kissing the top of your head.

You responded by kissing him slowly, and when you broke the kiss, you nuzzled your nose against his.

"It was perfect," You murmured, smiling sweetly, your eyes shining.

"I'm glad, my darling," He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone. "You made quite a mess of my bed," He teased.

You turned red and buried your face in his chest, your body had never done that before, and it was humiliating.

"Sorry," You mumbled, his chest rumbling with laughter.

"These are Egyptian cotton, do you have any idea how difficult it is to get them clean?" He teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

You rolled your eyes and tried to push yourself off of him, but his arms held you in place, his expression was mischievous.

"You can't leave, I have to clean you up," He grinned, his hands trailing down your back and over your ass, giving it a squeeze.

"I can clean myself," You huffed, trying to break free from his grasp, but he easily overpowered you.

"Nonsense, allow me," He said, his hands gently grabbing your wrists and holding them, "don't move."

He left a trail of kisses down your body, his tongue making its way along your thighs, cleaning up the wet mess that was dripping from you.

His touch was so tender, and his movements were slow, he seemed to be savoring the taste of you, the feeling was so sensual.

"You thought I was done with you?" He purred, his tone was laced with arousal and mischief.

"The party has only just begun,"

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[foreingersgod]

Can you write kate Martin x reader that she’s completely whipped by but they get into an argument and Kate says something she didn’t mean?

Wedding Planning . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate says something she doesn’t mean and it puts your relationship at risk.

A/N: guys i think this is my favorite kate fic so far

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

it had felt like you’ve known kate for a lifetime, having been together for 5 years. so naturally, when she proposed to you on your anniversary, you could hardly contain your excitement. there were tears, kissing and laughing (and the best engagement sex ever). it was the absolute best night of your life.

since you were a little girl you had dreamed of your wedding. you were obsessed with wedding dresses and falling in love, constantly imaging what your life was going to look like. when you’d play outside you’d make wedding bouquets out of wild flowers, or when you would draw portraits they’d always depict you walking down the isle. now that you were grown and engaged to the love of your life, you couldn’t wait to get started on planning the wedding.

kate, although she was equally ecstatic to get married, wasn’t as keen on wedding planning. she was more laid back with decisions and didn’t have any particular opinions on how she wanted it to look. ‘just as long as you’re happy, babe’ she would say. you didn’t mind all that much, in fact it made your life easier. you had full reign to make your wedding exactly how you had pictured it.

on the downside, it felt like you were doing this all alone when you really wished it was something you two could do together. you just wanted to sit down, after kate came home from practice and you from work, and look through different flowers and centerpieces. you wanted to do cake testings and pick out color schemes. but kate’s answer was always the same when you asked: ‘whatever you like, i like’.

you knew that possibly couldn’t be true. kate was an open book and you knew literally everything about her. there had to be at least one cake flavor she despised or one flower she didn’t like, there’s no way she was fine with anything. sometimes you felt irritated that there weren’t any disagreements about the wedding, she accepted any ideas you threw her way and it really bothered you. planning a wedding, throwing a party in honor of your love for one another, should be about what both of you want.

it had already been months since your engagement and the wedding was rolling around quicker than expected. within days, you became stressed and overwhelmed. there were still so many decisions to make, so many people to call, so many things that still needed to be made perfect. these past few weeks have been incredibly hectic, and to no surprise, you felt isolated and alone. perhaps it was just typical bridal anxiety, or maybe it was the fact that your fiancé wanted nothing to do with helping prepare for your big day.

one late night, around 12 am, you sat on the floor of your shared living room. you had came home late from a night shift at work, waiting up for kate to come home from a night out with the team. with the wedding being so close you decided to spend the extra time tying loose ends and checking things off your to do list. you always waited for kate when she was out late, it was near impossible to sleep without her, so you didn’t mind.

there were folders and binders spread on the coffee table in front of you. little scraps of color samples and inspiration pictures took up every square inch, various phone numbers and addresses also scattered every which way. to any outsider, it’d seem like chaos, but you enjoyed the sweet moments of wedding planning.

not long after you organized the floral section of your wedding binder, you heard the lock of the front door click open. it was followed by the creak of the hinges and heavy footsteps. you looked over from your spot on the ground, seeing kate drop her bag at the door and kick her shoes off. she was tired, you could tell, but still buzzing from hanging out with her teammates.

“hey, baby! you’re home!” you smiled as she approached you. she leant down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before setting down on the couch that you sat against.

“hey,” she was slightly out of breath. she was leaning over your shoulder now, eyeing the mess on the table “wedding stuff? this late?”

“yeah, i wanted to keep myself busy while i waited for you”

“gotcha” with a monotone response, she was already dismissing you and pulling out her phone. she didn’t ask about what you were arranging or what folder you were working on, but instead she was checking instagram?

it made your blood boil slightly, the way that she was completely clueless to anything wedding related.

“want to help me?” you asked, looking back at her “if you’re gonna be up for a little longer, i’d like the help”

“you know me, babe. i’m really not good with that, you’ve got the eye for all of it” she didn’t even bother to make eye contact with you.

“really?” you choked back a scoff, torn between wanting to be mad and confront her or letting the matter roll over.

“what do you mean ‘really’?” now she was paying attention, typical.

“don’t worry about it, let’s just go to to bed” you pushed yourself off the floor, putting on your slippers and heading for the stairs. before you could move, however, kate had grabbed your wrist gently to keep you in place.

“well i am worried,” her face contorted to any angry frown “why are you mad all of the sudden?”

“because kate, you’re pissing me off”

“what the hell did i do?”

you wanted to scream, the emotion starting to build up inside of you. for months you had been annoyed with how she left all the wedding stuff for you to do. how she didn’t even want to be involved in this made you feel like you weren’t doing this wedding to proclaim your love, that you were really just doing it for yourself.

it wasn’t your intention to pick this fight tonight, but oh god did you just want to get it all off your chest.

“i’m pissed because you don’t even want to help with this wedding, kate! you can’t even sit down with me for 5 minutes and help me organize a fucking folder”

“that’s not true i-”

“no it is!” you didn’t even want to hear the bullshit that was bout to spew from her mouth. she remained on the couch, jaw clenched in anger as you cut her off “every time i ask you to do something, you blow me off and leave me to do it by myself! you have no interest in doing any of it with me”

“babe, i’m just not good at that stuff. i thought you wanted to plan this?” she was chewing at the inside of her cheeks now, you could tell she was trying to avoid this conversation.

“with you! i want to plan this with you! but for some reason you want no part in it! i have asked time and time again for a little help in hopes that you’d become interested in it. because in all honesty, kate, i don’t even care about the wedding being perfect. i just want to do it with you! i want you to care and to go to run wedding errands with me, i want you to want to do it with me, but you don’t even give a shit!”

her face started to turn red with annoyance, eyes pressed shut. her large hands covered her face as the ran down her cheeks. she was practically huffing as she sat there listening to you completely hound her for her disinterest.

“you haven’t even asked me about what flowers i decided to go with or shown any fucking interest in my god damn dress. my dress, kate, the part that i’m most excited for. you don’t even care about that and it hurts. and you dont ev-”

“jesus, i don’t care about the fucking wedding, YN!”

she could have just punched you right in the face, it probably would have hurt less than hearing her say that. your heart dropped, noticing how she was seething in rage. jaw still clenched, hands tugging at the roots of her hair, trying to calm herself down.

your eyes welled with tears, body frozen as you tried to process what just happened. she she really not care at all? it didn’t take long for the tears to start spilling, running down your cheeks in heavy cascades. a sob struck your body, you tired to bite your lip to hold it back but it was no use.

“great,” you muttered. she finally looked up at, body softening when she realized what she said “glad i know how you feel”

“baby…” she stood up abruptly, trying to come over to you.

“save it, it’s clear that you don’t care about the wedding” more sobs took over you, it killed kate to see you like this. she was kicking herself internally for even thinking that. why did she say that?

“if it’s really that big of a deal” you stepped back when kate tried to reach for you hand to apologize “then let’s just call the whole thing off”

“YN, no” she begged, tears of her own building up “baby come on, i didn’t mean it, don’t say that”

“why not? i mean you don’t have any interest in it. like at all, not even enough to spend time with me to do it. so let’s just call it”

“i don’t want to call it off” her lips contorted to a frown “i wouldn’t have proposed if i didn’t want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. honey please, i don’t want to call it off”

“you’re not acting like it” is all you could say, you were truly speechless at this point. “why scream at me that you ‘don’t care about the wedding’ when i’m trying to express my feelings to you if you don’t want to call it off”

“because i’m a fucking idiot” her voice wobbled as she began to cry. the pattern of her tears mimicking yours “i don’t know why i said that, it’s not true even in the slightest. i’ve just been so stressed with everything recently and stuff with the wedding has just been so overwhelming, but at the end of the day i just want to marry you, baby. that’s no excuse, i’ll admit that i haven’t been a very good fiancé”

“no you haven’t” you crossed your arms, wiping away some of your tears “i know things are stressful…and i get that, but you don’t even seem interested. like you don’t want to do this with me”

“i do,” another wave of sadness washes over her “i think i’m just scared. things are happening so quick and change makes me nervous…our life is so perfect and i’m worried that i’m gonna fuck it up somehow. whether it’s planning the wedding or being a shitty wife, i feel like im going to fail”

“kate…” you swallowed deeply. it sent another pang to your heart knowing that this is how she felt all along “is that really how you feel? like you’re going to fail?”

she nodded, sniffling as she looked down at her feet in embarrassment. you ran over to her in an instant to pull her into your arms. she collapsed into your body, arms wrapping around your waist, chin sitting atop your shoulder as she cried to you. your hands rubbed her back smoothly, letting her get all of it out.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry that i’ve been so shitty” you could feel your shirt dampen with teardrops “you don’t deserve any of this. i can’t believe i said i don’t care, i never meant it, i swear”

“hey hey hey,” your hand now finding the back of her head, running your fingers through her hair “it’s going to be ok, i get it, we can work past that. but the last thing i want is for you to feel like you’re going to be a shitty wife. baby, i don’t think you could be a bad wife even if you tried”

“you’re just saying that”

“i’m not! i mean it! you’re the love of my life and i think you’re perfect inside and out. i wouldn’t have said yes if i didn’t accept every part of you. we’ll have ups and downs like everyone does, but that doesn’t mean i don’t still love you and it certainly doesn’t make you a shitty wife”

she released you from the hug when you took ahold of her shoulders. you ran your palms up and down her biceps before moving to her face, fingers grazing her cheekbones.

“it’s going to be ok, alright?” you cracked a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead as you got up on your tip toes.

“i’m sorry, i love you so much” she pulled you in for a real kiss, this time, lips coming into contact with yours.

“i love you too”

after that night, kate made it her mission to change. she started helping out more, like you had asked, but she was also doing things on her own. kate picked out her suit, called the wedding photographer, and a handful of other things on your list. it was clear to you now that she just needed reassurance. it was going to take sometime to recover from what she had said to you, but you knew none of it was true and it was something you could work past.

you just wanted to marry your girl.

and marry her, you did.

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #kate martin #kate martin x reader #kate martin x you #kate martin x yn #kate martin x y/n #kate martin imagine #kate martin oneshot #kate martin and reader #wlw #lesbian #foreingersgod

[johnpriceslamb]

charles or Arthur with a coquette gf? like she’s always dressed in the prettiest frills and the girliest beauty products?

₊ ⊹ ೀ RDR boys w/ an extremely feminine gf ౨ৎ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ it wasn’t much of a shock for all of the camp members to hear that Arthur Morgan was dating [name]. What was a shock, however, was the fact that he was still interested in love and its affairs despite his experience with past lovers.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Arthur enjoys your femininity. Even if you were quite capable of doing things on your own, he’s quick to act on his feet and gently yet demandingly- take the task off your hands. He wouldn’t want his princess getting all dirty now would he? This statement can go with anything, whether it be cutting vegetables, cleaning the stables, etc

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ It makes him feel masculine- moreover the idea of saving a damsel in distress then it being demanding or infantilising, except.. you’re not in distress, and.. you don’t need saving from anything.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Your gentle nature makes him swoon. Even if he may not seem like he’s head over heels, just know this man would quite literally crumble beneath you, had you touched him in a way that’d be considered comforting.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ He adored the way you dress. Pretty, frilly, lacy.. He can’t count how much pink-coloured dresses you’ve worn. When he first met you, he genuinely believed you were some kind of rich city girl with the pretty articles of clothing you always wore. Sometimes, he likes drawing you in your ribbon-tipped dresses and floral patterned tops.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ If you happen to use some of your makeup for anything, hes quietly admiring you. He was raised traditionally, so he’d ask.. why? Simply you’d reply, ‘I like how it looks on me.’ He’d be even more confused. You were always pretty, so.. why.. At this point, he needed to stop thinking. He just wanted to stare at you.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Petnames he’d use for you would include: princess, sugar-plum, or doll. Elaborating for princess; because you look like a princess and you act like one, and for sugar plum- he’d think it’s a good fit since you were as sweet ‘n’ sugar-y as a plum! and for doll, simply because your facial structure reminds him of those porcelain dolls with those huge doe-y eyes.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Okay, yeah. The lingering rumours of him and you dating becoming true was a bit of a shocker. The dynamic between you two was a major difference. Even despite through all of this, Charles simply took a liking for you because of your sweet nature and gentleness with animals.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ If you happen to be physically shorter than him, he’d simply smile. He likes the way you could fit in his arms like a teacup kitty. Your weight meant nothing to him, he’s a very- emphasis on very, strong man. Though however, hes a bit reluctant in affection at first, considering it was his first time having a girlfriend, but soon caves in mainly because of your beady eyes looking up at him, practically begging to be squished alive.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ When he first met you, he automatically thought of a baby puppy. Your appearance was too much alike of one, and he just needed to.. squish you. But alas, what made him even more attracted was your gentleness and sweetness as mentioned above.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Even if your looks were over a 10, he would still prefer your personality. It was what drew him to you in the first place. The first time he saw you taking care of Jack- oh boy did something inside of him snap. Your way with children was just too loving and too much for his heart to handle.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ He doesn’t have much to comment about regarding your fashion style. He does think it’s cute though. He has taken quite a liking to the colour pink and ribbons when you entered in his life. If you happen to ask him for some help in regard to the strings of your pink corset needing to be tightened, he’s eager to help. His burly hands pull lightly yet firmly, since he’s a bit nervous in harming you. A gentle giant.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Charles doesn’t really have a comment on your use of beauty products either. What he does know, is that you enjoy it, and if you’re happy? He’s happy. He takes in mind the firm amount of pink-coloured products you use, when you both go to the city he’s quietly at the sidelines buying those products and hoping it doesn’t differ from the ones you were using.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Petnames he’d use would include: sweetheart, darling, pup. Sweetheart- because.. you literally have a sweet-heart and he thought it was very fitting. Darling was blurted out once from his mouth, and he saw how your beady eyes glimmered so he regularly started using the title darling. And finally, pup- it may seem lowkey cringe at first but pls hear me out. As mentioned before, when he thinks of you, he thinks of tiny puppies. Your eyes were alike of one, and you were as clingy as a baby pup too. So.. it was just mandatory to call you pup.

#fem! reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem! reader #arthur morgan x fem! you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #charles smith x fem! you #charles smith x fem! reader #charles smith x you #charles smith x reader #charles smith #rdr2 x you #afab! reader

[allmyocsarebritish]

Dressed to kill

Pairing: Angel Dust X Reader

Warnings(?): Angel does reader's makeup, and unintentionally pokes them in the eye, I have no idea how to do makeup, this came to me when I found pink eyeshadow

Also yes, that's my eye lololol

"Please, toots. I'm literally beggin ya!" Angel complained once more, dramatically draping himself over the bed beside where you sat.

"I promise ya'll love it if ya just-"

You cut him off with an exaggerated sigh and roll of your eyes, though the amused smile on your lips evidenced your joking tone.

"Alright fine, I suppose it won't hurt."

"Yes! Don't worry babe, I'll make ya look stunnin'!" He practically leaped off the bed at your response, though his movements were unreasonably agile and smooth as usual.

You exhaled a breathy laugh at Angel's excitement, drawing your knees up to your chest whilst watching him search his dresser. Rummaging through the drawers, he pulled out (ha) various small wash bags. Each was a slightly different shade of pink, and all embroidered with his name in extravagant lettering. Satisfied with his collection of supplies, he retreated back to the bed, dumping them all on top of the duvet.

"Ya ready?" Angel grinned, lower set of hands resting on his hips.

"Go ahead." You smiled,resting back against the plush headboard. Angel hovered over you, a knee on either side of your legs. Your face flushed at the sudden proximity, which he immediately picked up on.

"What's wrong baby? A bit too close?~" Angel's words were genuine, though he spoke with a massively flirty tone which drew even more heat to your cheeks.

"N-not at all." Despite the fact you *tried* to match his demeanor, you stuttered over your words and just appeared a flustered mess. Angel chuckled and leant back slightly, allowing you space to breathe as he dug through his eyeshadows.

"I'd start by givin' ya some blush but I really don't think ya need it!" He teased before retrieving a small, silver palette.

"Wait, Ange, hold on, aren't you supposed to start with concealer?" You wondered aloud, mildly confused.

"I suppose ya could, but ya really don't need it, babe" he responded, frowning ever so slightly. "Perfect just the way ya are."

You smiled and thanked him for his sweet compliment, to which he leant down and pecked your nose. Still cupping your cheeks with one set of hands, he opened the palette with another, dusting the pigment onto a brush.

"Close ya eyes for me?" He requested, to which you obliged. The brush was soft against your skin, and Angel's strokes were gentle yet deliberate. You could feel his warm breath fan across your cheeks as he exhaled, deep in concentration. You smiled at the thought of his focused face, wishing that you could open your eyes and see him. It was at that moment that you realised you had no idea what you were going to look like. Of course you trusted Angel almost entirely, but even still you wouldn't put it past him to make you look ridiculous.

"What colour are you doing?" You asked to which he laughed mischievously.

"Wait and see." His response raised your suspicions even further, though you couldn't help but smile at Angel's antics. Your wait wasn't long, however, as a few moments later he leant back, making you immediately miss the contact and warmth brought by your proximity to the spider.

"Open!" Angel's excitement was barely concealed in his tone, and a mirror was thrust into your hand as soon as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the room after being closed for so long. Your concerns were proven unnecessary by the clean and glittery pink and black eyeshadow adorning your eyelid, perfectly complimenting the colour of your iris.

"Okay, you were right, I do love it." You admitted defeat, wondering why you were skeptical.

"Ya seem surprised. Ain't got no faith in me?" Angel dramatically rested a hand on his chest in mock offence, to which you playfully rolled your eyes.

"No, never." You deadpanned. He scoffed before reaching for an eyeliner pencil.

"Look up." Angel advised, gently pressing down on your cheek to expose your waterline.

Unfortunately the pencil slipped.

"Ow!" You winced, jerking away and squinting your eye closed.

"Fuck, sorry." Angel grimaced as you rubbed it to relieve the stinging from being poked. "Would ya like ta do the other one yourself?" He offered, to which you nodded, trying to surpress a laugh. Balancing the mirror on your knee, you put on the eyeliner yourself, making a point of the lack of casualty.

"I said I'm sorry, what more do ya want from me?"

You shook your head and put down the eyeliner and Angel took his place back on top of you. You rested your hands on his hips for balance.

"So, what's next, love?" You asked, watching as he considered.

"False eyelashes or mascara?"

"Which is less likely to make me lose my eyes?" You teased, yet more reference to the fact he poked you. Angel scoffed and rolled his eyes, reaching for an eyelash curler.

"Uh, no, no, no. There is no way in hell I'm letting you near my eyes with that!"

"Fine, fine!!" He held up all four hands in surrender and dropping it on a cushion.

The next challenge presented itself in the form of Angel trying to put the mascara on you.

"Hold still!"

"No!"

"Toots I swear I won't poke ya in the eye again." He promised, and, though you had your doubts, you sat obediently, allowing him to coat your lashes.

"See! What'd I tell ya?!" He leant back again, proud smile on his lips as he admired his work.

"Ya look stunning, babe." He told you, closing the distance between the two of you. "Just one final touch and then we're done!"

Unscrewing the lid of a lip gloss tube, he made as though he were going to put it on you, before turning at the last second and putting it on himself, looking away. You raised an eyebrow and shook your head, smirk brightening your features.

"Oh ya wanted some?" Angel feigned innocence, dramatically looking into the plastic tube. "That's a shame, there's none left! Guess ya'd better come here then!"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed Angel's small lapels, pulling him into you and kissing him, feeling the product transfer.

"Gee, thanks babe!" You replied, continuing to act like there wasn't multiple full tubes on the bed surrounding you both.

"Ya look amazing, Y/N."

"Thanks Angie, you're so good at makeup. Well, apart from eyeliner." He rolled his eyes at you before leaning in again.

"I told ya! I'm sorry"

"I might have to ask Charlie to schedule a lesson on how not to betray someone's trust like that." You teased, dragging out the joke.

"Of course ya will." He rolled his eyes again.

"I do forgive you though. And thank you, for doing it for me" You wrapped your arms around him and drew him in for a tight hug.

"Any time."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin hotel anthony #hazbin angel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin #hazbin fanfic #angel dust x reader #angel x reader #angel dust #angel dust imagine

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Roy Harper x Reader

Summary: A head cannon in which you are Roy’s perfect match.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Independence

Throughout Roy’s developmental years, he was always treated with excessive handholding, rules and over exertion of authority.

This has led Roy to feel resentful of constraints.

In his former years, Roy relished the freedom and exercising autonomy through the Outlaws.

Roy really appreciates the sense of freedom you give in your relationship.

Roy: “Would you be upset if I cancel our date tonight? Jason’s back in town.”

You were fully dressed up, ready for your hot date.

Y/n: “Nope.”

And you really meant it.

You took advantage of your hot fit and took yourself on a date.

The flexibility you give him is one of the key factors to your loving relationship.

Adventurous Spirit

Given Roy has spent most of his free time training and practicing the art of archery, Roy needs a romantic partner who shares the passion of adventure.

Roy: “Wow… I never seen anyone shoot the ground when the target is only 5 meters away.

Y/n: “I was just testing the bow resistance…”

Roy: “Uh-huh…”

Whilst you may not be the most talented archer or most fit individual. You are always keen to try and participate.

Your enthusiasm to do better is infectious and Roy just loves and appreciates your willingness to try and do better, especially when it comes to his interests.

Y/n: “Roy did you see, did you see?! I hit the outer ring!”

Supportive and Empathetic

Roy has had to endure many hardships throughout his developmental years which has plagued him every so often during his adult hood such as;

Addiction issues - not only does Roy have past entanglements with addictions which leads him to live a clean life. He had developed a critical eye for intentions, as a trusted friend was the cause to his addiction. Now, Roy analyses everything for deeper motivations. That’s just the result of the trauma and it’s a the reality in which you had accept. Whilst it can be insulting and exhausting to be under the microscope, you always speak your mind freely and bluntly.

Relationship dynamic of being in a team - it’s a struggle for Roy to build trust in others due to his past experiences. He has trouble letting people in, but once your in, you most certainly not getting out. You appreciate the value in which Roy holds you and makes you feel extra safe and comfortable knowing that Roy, no matter what, will always be there for you.

Responsibility as a hero - Roy has had to endure the heavy burden of protecting society as nothing more than a well trained human. Society is never short of criticism and Roy is hard on himself enough as it is. This can lead to feeling emotionally and physically strained. Roy cannot handle the criticism of his short comings when it comes to his romantic entanglements too.

Roy: “Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry I missed your birthday party, it’s just, this woman, and her child-“

Y/n: “Roy! I had the best birthday ever! I took lots of photos, so you could see it all when you finished your patrol. But we can do that later, do you want me to draw you a bath? Have you eaten yet?”

Roy: *pant* “aren’t you-“ *pant* “upset with me?”

Y/n: “Don’t be a silly goose, I know you wouldn’t miss anything intentionally, must’ve been really important. We’ve been together for years, think I don’t know you by now?”

Sense of Humor

Even in the hardest of times, it’s at times easier to just have a laugh.

Roy appreciates that you don’t take difficult situations to seriously and just have a laugh with him.

Roy thinks your extra-adorable since you kept notes on his funniest one-liners.

"Some days, I wish I was a firefighter. All you have to worry about is fire."

"We're supposed to be professionals, yet here we are, running around in spandex, talking to ourselves."

"All these costume changes, and I'm still trying to figure out my life."

In a crowd full of hero’s your laughter amongst the dead silence is always appreciated.

#dc imagines #dc x reader #Roy Harper x reader #Roy Harper imagine #Roy x reader #Arsenal x reader #Arsenal imagine #speedy x reader #speedy imagine #red arrow x reader #red arrow imagine #arrowfam x reader #arrowfam

[jamilelucato]

The Writer and The Illustrator (Part 02)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Miss [y/n]

Summary: (Part 01 / Part 03) Miss [y/n] finds herself entangled in a clandestine collaboration with Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. As they navigate their partnership, their connection deepens, sparking whispers of courtship among society's elite.

Age rating: although this chapter is pretty chill for younger audiences, the next part will have more explicit scenes, so let’s keep it 18+.

Author’s note: Two chapters in the same day? Am I amazing or what? The third part comes in some hours, though.

To read Anthony’s fic, click here! For other stories, click here.Enjoy!

He was late.

[y/n] glanced at her timeworn pocket watch, a token from her elder sister's husband bestowed upon her during her last birthday. Her patience wore thin as Mr Bridgerton dallied in his arrival.

Hyde Park hummed with activity, yet it held no intimidation for [y/n] and her clandestine pursuit. She was seated on a bench and accompanied by her hired companion, Mrs Pittsburg.

Mrs Pittsburg was a good matron, not as old as Lady Danbury, but still old enough to be someone's grandma. Since [y/n] outgrew the need for a governess, her family enlisted Mrs. Pittsburg's companionship to ensure her company during social engagements and outings.

After all, for Mrs Pittsburg's concern and the now man of the family, [y/n]'s brother, Mr Benedict Bridgerton had asked the young lady for a promenade in the park. 

[y/n] hated she had to tell such a misleading lie — Mr Bridgerton was far from courting her — but it was the only thing to explain her need to spend an afternoon with the gentleman.

"He loses my respect by the minute," Mrs. Pittsburg remarked, drawing [y/n]'s attention. "And yours too, I should think."

"Indeed, he may well be," Miss [y/n] concurred, tucking the watch back into its pocket.

[y/n] was rather fond of the dress she had chosen for the occasion. Though practical, with the convenience of a pocket, one might argue it lent her an air of maturity beyond her twenty-five years. Yet, such concerns scarcely crossed her mind.

"Oh," sighed Mrs. Pittsburg, her gaze wandering across the park. "There he is. A lanky lad, I'd say. Much too tall."

[y/n] attempted to follow Mrs. Pittsburg's gaze in vain. She would have to wait and see.

"No need to rise," Mrs. Pittsburg interjected, observing [y/n]'s movement on the bench. "Let him come to you. If he's truly interested, he'll seek you out."

Of course, in this instance, genuine interest was sorely lacking. Nonetheless, [y/n] remained silent and seated, preferring not to ruffle the old lady's feathers.

Fortunately for the ladies, Mr. Bridgerton approached. He sported a hat in a rich shade of blue, complementing his attire impeccably. Benedict cut a dashing figure, [y/n] noted, regret momentarily tugging at her for choosing practicality over a gown befitting a courtship.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Mr. Bridgerton greeted with a deferential nod. Mrs. Pittsburg rested a hand on [y/n]'s shoulder, compelling her to remain seated. "I beg your pardon for my tardiness. My mother detained me longer than anticipated."

Before Mrs. Pittsburg could voice her disdain for his flimsy excuse, [y/n] intervened. "No trouble at all, Mr. Bridgerton. Let me introduce you to Mrs. Pittsburg, my esteemed companion and friend."

Mrs. Pittsburg maintained her grip on [y/n]'s shoulder as she exchanged pleasantries with the gentleman.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Pittsburg. Your husband's tailoring skills are unparalleled."

Unprepared for the compliment, [y/n] watched with interest as Mrs Pittsburg's demeanour softened, pleased by the acknowledgement of her husband's talents. In that brief exchange, Benedict managed to dispel some of the lady's reservations, though [y/n] suspected a crucial factor still hindered their meeting.

Mrs Pittsburg likely perceived Miss [y/n] as beneath the status of a late Viscount's second son. Admittedly, the earnings from [y/n]'s literary endeavours significantly contributed to her family's welfare. Despite her brother accepting the payments under the guise of a generous aunt, [y/n] surmised he would have done so regardless of their origin.

In fairness, Mrs. Pittsburg's apprehensions were not entirely unfounded.

"Mr Bridgerton, Miss [y/l/n], I shall take my leave now as I wish to stretch my legs a bit. I trust you won't mind, my dear?" the elderly lady inquired, her tone charming as ever. It was a stark contrast to her earlier grumblings.

"Not in the least, Mrs Pittsburg," [y/n] affirmed, offering a polite smile.

"I'll be nearby, fear not," the companion assured, releasing her hold on [y/n]'s shoulder.

[y/n] nodded once more, too embarrassed to meet Bridgerton's gaze. Undoubtedly, he would be curious about the old lady's insinuations regarding their supposed courtship.

As soon as Mrs. Pittsburg departed, Benedict extended his hand to [y/n].

"Shall we promenade around?"

The irony of his choice of words, mirroring her own to her brother, was not lost on her as she accepted his gloved hand with a smile.

They had scarcely walked a few paces when Benedict broached the subject. "Shall we ask with pretence, or shall I address it as it is?"

"You'll work for W. Jabber as his illustrator. Secrecy is unnecessary," Miss [y/n] replied, her grip on his arm a touch firmer than intended. Using her pseudonym rather than her given name was always a challenge.

Benedict caught on swiftly.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Jabber. A fine man, I must say," he quipped, stealing a glance in her direction, captivated by her presence.

He had retired late the previous evening. [y/n] had been his childhood companion, always charming, and that was the extent of his assessment. He could append a few less flattering adjectives if pressed: too reserved, too reticent, lacking in confidence. Yet, in a single encounter, all his preconceptions had been upended. He struggled to reconcile those descriptors with the woman before him.

Benedict had perused works by W. Jabber before. Four out of nine, to be precise, and each had been a resounding success, according to his seller. He found them profound, each word imbued with layers of meaning that demanded careful consideration. Although not an avid reader, W. Jabber held a place of honour on his bookshelf. That meant something.

To discover that W. Jabber, a master of language and intrigue, was the demure Miss [y/n] felt akin to being informed that the sky was, in fact, naturally green.

Benedict realised he had been lingering on her form, his gaze drawn to her ample bosom owing to his height advantage. Hastily averting his eyes, he was relieved to find [y/n] looking straight ahead.

A fine man! W. Jabber had nothing of a fine man.

W. Jabber was a stunningly beautiful woman with features that defied conventional standards of beauty, but that arresting, unconventional beauty was certainly what drew Benedict closer and called his attention the most. She commanded attention effortlessly with an ample bosom and hair of a mesmerising hue. The bodice of her unusual gown hugged her waist before cascading over generous curves, creating gentle swells and dips that seemed to dance in harmony with her every step.

Why had she selected such a gown for a simple afternoon stroll? Could she not have opted for a style more befitting of a young, single, innocent lady? These questions plagued Mr. Bridgerton so thoroughly that he found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

"Does Mrs Pittsburg know?" he inquired, attempting to conjure the image of the rather plain matron, especially compared to the woman who graced his arm as they meandered through Hyde Park.

"No, she remains entirely unaware," [y/n] responded, her tone tinged with amusement at the thought. "No soul knows, save for the publisher. And if you've come here to deliver a favourable response to the proposition, you shall meet him."

Benedict couldn't help but halt their progress mid-stride. [y/n] realised this a tad too late, having taken a step ahead in their stroll. Releasing his arm, she turned to face him without shifting her stance.

"You haven't come to deliver a favourable answer," she deduced from his sudden cessation.

"No, I..."

"It's of no consequence," she interjected, securing her hat against a sudden gust of wind. Resuming her walk, she anticipated his proximity behind her. "I had always considered 'no' a plausible outcome. It's a risk too great for one's reputation, after all."

"What's a risky move? To work with the best-selling author W. Jabber?" Benedict asked, hastening to catch up with her. With his own hat in hand, he remained unaffected by the breeze, noting [y/n]'s struggle with it.

Shaking her head, still avoiding direct eye contact, she replied, "Do not jest with me. You are aware of his true identity."

"I am now. I was not previously. To be candid with you, and I trust you shall take it in the good spirit intended, it never occurred to me to ponder the person behind W. Jabber," he confessed. With sudden courage, Benedict gently grasped the young woman's elbow, coaxing her to meet his gaze again. "W. Jabber is an exceptional writer. When tales told are of such brilliance, readers seldom feel compelled to delve into the lives of their creators."

Captivated by the unexpected touch, [y/n] slowly lifted her gaze from where her elbow met Benedict's hand and turned her attention to him. His words were eloquent, yet her insecurities only seemed to strengthen with each passing year. Few could harbour such a secret for as long as she had; she had already invested a decade in this charade.

"So, your reluctance isn't rooted in shame for the author," [y/n] pressed on, eager to steer the conversation away from her lingering dread of exposure. She remained curious as to why Benedict was declining the proposal. "Then why refuse?"

A mischievous grin played upon Benedict's lips. "I am not saying no."

"But you..." Miss [y/n] began, her protest halted by his interruption.

"You scarcely afforded me a moment to speak," he reminded her gently, and she flushed with embarrassment, realising the truth in his words. Mr Bridgerton couldn't help but smile at her reaction, thoroughly delighted to witness her blush spreading from her cheeks down to her neck, and even, with a quick check, he noticed a rosy hue creeping onto the décolletage of her gown.

"If you're not saying no," she declared, seizing Benedict's arm abruptly. While the gesture was appropriate for a stroll in the park, her movement exhibited a swiftness more characteristic of informality than propriety. "Then you're saying yes."

He smiled again, feeling her happiness piercing his veins where their arms touched.

"When may I expect the manuscript?" he inquired, his tone merry and playful.

But the question swiftly extinguished the light in the lady's eyes.

"Oh, no," she protested, shaking her head. "I'm still undergoing the second rewrite; I couldn't possibly furnish you with the entire book at this juncture."

"And how do you propose I illustrate it?"

Benedict Bridgerton had never illustrated a children's book, nor any book, for that matter. Yet, the gentleman was convinced that understanding the narrative was essential to crafting suitable illustrations.

"Of course, you'll read it," [y/n] insisted, referring to her manuscript. "However, I shall provide it to you in chapters. Time is of the essence; regrettably, I procrastinated on completing the initial draft, much to my publisher's chagrin. He wants this book in the hands of children's parents as quickly as possible."

"If it's intended for children, why the urgency to place it in the hands of parents?" Benedict inquired, tilting his head towards the lady.

"Ah, well, that's precisely why its composition proved so protracted," she explained, visibly pleased to expound upon the matter, "and precisely why I shall need to vet all your illustrations before approving."

Benedict waited for her to continue, sensing her fervour in her discourse. He felt a kinship with her passion, reminiscent of his discussions about his paintings with Eloise, his sister.

"The book has a childish facade, yet it is anything but. It operates on multiple levels, you see? There's a surface narrative for children; they'll engage with it and think, 'What a thrilling tale about bees!' However, when parents peruse its pages, they'll discern that the bee society depicted therein resembles British society and our interactions with governmental entities." She seemed oblivious to her surroundings, wholly engrossed in her narrative, envisioning the pages before her despite their absence. Even the wind ceased to perturb her, and she relinquished her struggle to keep her hat anchored, cradling it in her hands instead.

Benedict was entranced.

"The beehive serves as a microcosm of our society and our exploitation of other communities for our gain, often neglecting their well-being in the process, much like bees may pilfer from flowers without reciprocation," she continued, her emotion palpable. "I realise it sounds peculiar to speak of 'bees,' but with the aid of your illustrations, we could create something imbued with darker hues yet still convey beauty."

As Miss [y/l/n] concluded her explanation, she realised she had left the gentleman in a prolonged silence, prompting a wave of embarrassment to wash over her. She turned her head to regard him, silently urging him to offer any commentary.

"So, the bees serve as the story's antagonists?" he inquired, his lips on the verge of a smile.

She almost made it evident that Benedict's question was not what she expected. After such an elaborate discourse, she hadn't anticipated such a simplistic inquiry.

"Some, indeed. Particularly the queen bee," she responded in a measured tone.

Benedict's grin widened, revealing impeccable teeth before he chuckled silently. Though offended by the notion of him laughing at her creation, [y/n] found herself oddly drawn to his mirth.

"What?" she demanded, a hint of irritation seeping into her tone, though her expression betrayed her genuine desire—to share in Benedict's joy.

"I doubt you'll believe it, but," he paused, the laughter subsiding but the happiness lingering in his expression, "my family has long been aware of the villainy of bees. It's heartening to know that the entirety of Britain will soon share our insight."

Benedict couldn't quite decipher the look [y/n] bestowed upon him, but he couldn't deny the grace with which she wore her perplexity. On any other occasion, he mused, he might have kissed her then.

Good Lord, kiss her? What on earth was he thinking? He needed to compose himself, and swiftly, it seemed.

"It would be my pleasure to illustrate your book," he concluded, his words a whisper directed to her, and then, promptly adjusting his posture. There was no room for error with his newly appointed collaborator.

Miss [y/n] [y/l/n] couldn't determine whether to believe the tale of bees and the Bridgertons. However, if that connection was all it took to elicit Benedict Bridgerton's affirmative response, then the story's veracity mattered little to her.

On their inaugural day of collaboration, Miss [y/n] arrived at the Bridgerton House with her initial pages in hand, intending to deliver them to Mr Bridgerton for his perusal.

However, her plan of swift departure was thwarted when she was intercepted by none other than Violet Bridgerton herself, who insisted she stay for tea, citing their familial connection as a reason.

Taking the chance, Benedict withdrew his implements and positioned himself in a discreet corner, remaining silent as the women engaged in conversation.

Following a thorough review of the pages, Benedict retrieved his tools and commenced a rough sketch, his focus unwavering as he captured the essence of [y/n]'s opening chapter.

As Miss [y/l/n], Lady Bridgerton, Miss Eloise, and Miss Hyacinth exchanged gossip and pleasantries, Benedict toiled away at his easel, charcoal in hand, diligently bringing [y/n]'s words to visual life. Meanwhile, [y/n] watched quietly from a distance, her gaze a blend of admiration and critique as she observed his every stroke.

Upon concluding tea and pleasantries, Lady Bridgerton gracefully requested her son, Benedict, to escort Miss [y/n] out. Though her carriage awaited her outside, etiquette dictated that he see her to the door.

Seizing the opportunity, Benedict shared his preliminary sketch with [y/n], though he downplayed its significance, insisting it was but a preliminary effort.

"You've captured the essence of the forest! It's truly enchanting," [y/n] exclaimed, breaking the silence that had pervaded their exchange. "It aligns perfectly with my vision."

Benedict met her praise with a shy smile; his cheeks tinged with a youthful blush that only enhanced his appeal. [y/n] was drawn to his earnestness, a sentiment she couldn't entirely suppress.

"Thank you, Miss [y/n]. Your descriptions made it easy to visualise."

Their collaboration had found a comfortable stride, yet an undercurrent of tension persisted between them, perceptible to those attuned to the nuances of their interactions. While society whispered speculations of courtship, oblivious to the truth of their professional alliance, Benedict diligently sketched while [y/n] meticulously reviewed her manuscript, exchanging feedback and suggestions.

Fortune smiled upon them as they were both invited to the same ball, offering [y/n] the perfect opportunity to inquire about Benedict's thoughts on the latest chapter she had dispatched through a delivery boy just the day prior.

"You've captured the emotion in this scene impeccably," Benedict remarked, his eyes lingering on her as they swept across the dance floor in the graceful movements of the waltz. "Your writing possesses a captivating quality."

[y/n]'s cheeks flushed at his praise, a warmth blossoming in her chest at his words. "Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," she responded, but the formality of addressing him by his last name felt increasingly awkward. She had grown accustomed to referring to him as Benedict Bridgerton in the letters accompanying her chapters. While it maintained a level of professional distance, it now seemed ill-suited to the intimacy of their current setting.

As Benedict guided her gracefully around the ballroom, [y/n] couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon them. Indeed, it was rare to behold her engaged in a dance, for no gentleman ever asked. But amidst the curious glances, she couldn't help but wonder—were they actually seeing something there?

In the serene sanctuary of his studio within the Bridgerton House, Benedict devoted himself to a particularly intricate illustration, his attention steadfast and unwavering. Across the expanse of the room, [y/n] perched at his family's desk, her mind consumed with thoughts as she diligently penned notes for the forthcoming chapter of her book. Glancing up, Benedict found himself captivated by the sight of her; her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she crafted her prose.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Benedict drank in the image before him, the soft glow of the lamplight casting a halo around [y/n]'s form. He felt a surge of admiration for her dedication and talent, a longing stirring within him that he couldn't quite articulate.

Though tempted to speak, Benedict opted to return to his drawing. The prior evening, [y/n] had led him on a midnight escapade—not the romantic interlude he had secretly hoped for, but an important visit to the publisher she had spoken so highly of. Twelve days into their collaboration, Benedict had yet to formalise the book contract.

Meeting Mr. Brendy, Benedict found a man of integrity who regarded [y/n] with paternal affection. Their private conversation confirmed Mr. Brendy's protective stance, a sentiment Benedict respected deeply.

"She's a remarkable woman. Sometimes I wish she had been born mine," the man told Benedict. "Nonetheless, I'll not hesitate to take action if you endanger her or her career. Do I make myself clear?"

Benedict assured Mr Brendy of his intentions, though the man's knowing smile left him uneasy.

But those concerns were now settled; the contract was signed and sealed. Benedict wouldn't profit much from the whole thing — he wasn't such a famous painter to ask more than the minimum offered. Besides, he felt like [y/n] should be the one profiting more, for if it were not for her descriptions, he wouldn't have been able to draw a thing.

As Benedict meticulously shaded the delicate petals of a flower, his focus consumed by the task at hand, he failed to notice the quiet entrance of his mother, Lady Violet Bridgerton. Across the room, [y/n] had her pen gliding across the paper and had not seen the matron either. Lady Bridgerton observed them both for a moment, noting the intensity of their concentration, before deciding to remain silent and unobtrusive.

Content to let her son and the Miss continue their work undisturbed; Lady Bridgerton turned to leave the room, her footsteps barely audible against the plush carpeting. As she reached the door, however, she noticed a figure waiting by the wall: her youngest daughter, Hyacinth, with an inquisitive gaze fixed upon her mother.

"They've been in the same position for hours. Shouldn't we be worried?" Hyacinth whispered, her brow furrowed in concern.

Lady Bridgerton paused, considering her daughter's words. She glanced back into the room, where Benedict and [y/n] remained engrossed in their tasks, seemingly unaware of their surroundings.

Lady Bridgerton gently smiled toward her daughter, her hesitation brief yet palpable. "Let them be," she murmured softly before gliding down the hallway, leaving the two young creatives to their endeavours, shielded from the outside world.

Hyacinth couldn't shake the sense that there was more to the situation than met the eye, a whisper of secrecy lingering in the air beyond the purview of the adults.

A sense of triumph permeated the room as their gazes lingered upon the final illustration for the book.

Miss [y/n] had meticulously revised her narrative, leaving only Mr. Bridgerton's finishing touches to complete their project.

Stepping back to afford her a closer inspection of his art, Benedict couldn't help but swell with pride at the culmination of their collaboration. [y/n]'s eyes sparkled with excitement as she absorbed the drawing before her.

"It's perfect," she breathed, her voice filled with awe. "You've truly outdone yourself, Ben."

He met her gaze, a warmth spreading through him at the use of a nickname. For the last three days, he noticed [y/n] had started calling him by his given name, too, and he replied by doing the same to her. Yet, to hear her shorten it to "Ben" stirred something deeper within him. He found himself savouring the sound of her voice.

"It wouldn't have been possible without your imagination."

In that fleeting moment, amidst their shared creation, the boundaries of their partnership blurred, leaving behind an unspoken connection that had blossomed over the weeks.

Yet, Miss [y/n] couldn't help but remind herself of their surroundings — her family lingered just steps away from the library door. While her brother had granted Mr Bridgerton a private moment with her, she knew it couldn't last. Any inklings of confusion she harboured were futile — for both the present moment and the gentleman. What right did she have to entertain thoughts beyond their professional collaboration with the second son of a Viscount?

"Well, then it's settled. The work, I mean," Miss [y/n] remarked, stepping away from Benedict to steady her racing heart. "I can deliver the drawings to Mr Brendy this evening."

"You're not considering going alone, are you?" Benedict interjected, his concern evident as he recalled the less savoury district where Mr Brendy's office was situated.

"Don't be ridiculous; I've managed perfectly well on my own for the past ten years," she dismissed, brushing off Benedict's worries with a wave of her hand.

The room fell into silence briefly — the space between them filled with unspoken tension.

"You were going there alone as a young girl?" Benedict exclaimed, scandalised, though he didn't wait for her confirmation; he knew it to be true. "You were barely sixteen; you hadn't even made your debut yet."

"I truly hadn't," [y/n] affirmed, the edge in his tone stinging her. She had expected a glimmer of pride when she turned to face him, but instead, she found only frustration. "But don't fret; I've never attracted much notice. You said as much the day we discussed our collaboration, remember?"

"I never said you would go unnoticed," he retorted sharply. "I merely suggested that your alias would likely escape detection, given the assumption that he was a man."

Crossing her arms defensively, [y/n] avoided meeting his gaze.

"And what a fine man I am," she sighed, recalling his earlier words.

Benedict fought the urge to curse and vent his frustration; he was a guest in this house, and [y/n] deserved his respect.

How often, before, had he teetered on the edge of propriety since they embarked on this clandestine venture? How often had he seen her frown, longed to soothe her with a kiss to her forehead, or caught her smiling at his drawings and yearned to have her? Yet, he had restrained himself, for she was a lady — unfortunate in her circumstances, perhaps, but her last name was still of great esteem.

However fortunate or unfortunate the timing, before Benedict could utter any truths and [y/n] could voice any lamentations, they were interrupted by the abrupt entrance of [y/n]'s brother, Mr. [y/l/n], poised to catch them in a compromising situation.

Mr. [y/l/n] found himself perplexed by the scene that greeted him: his sister's furrowed brow and the gentleman's evident frustration. But he did not need to comprehend; he simply interjected. A man deeply fond of his sister, likely due to the considerable time they spent in each other's company, Mr [y/l/n] couldn't help but dote on [y/n]. While their elder sister had already embarked on married life and motherhood, [y/n] remained steadfast in the [y/l/n] household, deemed a spinster by society's standards.

"My apologies for the interruption," he offered, though he harboured no remorse. "What's the discussion?"

Spotting [y/n]'s discomfort in her brother's presence, Benedict seized the opportunity to assert himself. "I've just invited your sister to accompany me to Lady Danbury's ball this evening."

The lady's brother was confused. "Will she have a second dance in the same season?"

"Lady Danbury has her own set of rules, dear brother," [y/n] retorted, finally speaking up to defend the unconventional elderly lady.

"Ah, indeed," her brother chuckled, recalling how Lady Danbury's unconventional ways had led him to his current wife. "But, little sister, did you accept?"

Benedict turned to [y/n], a defiant gleam in his eye, silently daring her to refute his claim, to hide behind the facade he presumed she wore.

"I accepted, naturally," [y/n] replied with a mischievous smile, her gaze fixed squarely on Benedict as she addressed her brother. "I'm honored by the invitation."

"Ah, splendid," Mr. [y/l/n] nodded approvingly. Rarely had his sister been extended such an offer. And here was Benedict Bridgerton, his old friend from Eton, one of London's most sought-after bachelors, extending it. The irony was not lost on him. "Bridgerton, my apologies, but I must ask you to take your leave. Family matters require my sister's attention."

"Of course, [y/l/n]. Please, proceed," Benedict acquiesced with a gesture, turning to bid [y/n] a polite farewell. "I'll call for you at seven, Miss."

"I eagerly await it," she responded sharply, immediately regretting her tone. As Benedict exited the room, leaving her alone with her brother, [y/n] braced herself for any further inquiries. "Don't ask," she preempted Mr. [y/l/n].

"I wasn't planning to," he reassured her, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence. "But how did you do it?"

"Oh, shut up," she cursed and left the room.

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x yn #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton #polin

[anonymooseforever007]

Romantic Escape

(Tommy Shelby x female reader)

Summary- After being confined to Arrow House for a week because of a small concussion, Y/N is determined to get out. But considering how overprotective Tommy's been recently she'll have to be smart if she'd to make it. To trick Thomas Shelby is a feat many enemies have tried but few have succeeded. But then again, not many of his enemies have the advantage of knowing him the way his wife does...

Or at least they're scared to get that close....

A/N: Hi y'all! No specific TW's for this one other than usual Peaky Violence, Language, and implications of smut (but non actually happens). There is one mention of a past attack but nothing's graphic. Also this was going to be one part, but then I didn't like how the breakup between scenes flowed, so there is a second part going to be posted in a few days probably! Anyways I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️ WC- 3.0k

Romantic Capture (Part 2)

Main Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a week and a half since the bad accident occurred. 

Well, your husband called it a bad accident. 

You called it "being a imbecile who'd gotten so distracted trying nicely draw a baby chipmunk out of the house she didn't realize the stairs ended two steps ago."

But in fairness, every other idea for the poor thing your beloved family suggested involved guns or stew. Besides, Thomas Shelby wasn't about to let even his wife herself, label his darling love as a common 'imbecile'....so 'bad accident' it was. 

Truth be told you didn't even think it should be labeled as such. Sure you were dizzy for the first two days, but you only almost passed out when you stood up once. AND there wasn't any blood so you didn't even need to go to a hospital. Polly was insistent it was a mild concussion and a couple days rest would be all you needed. But your husband thought otherwise, and here you were days later, still confined to the premises. 

You'd laughed at the irony of it. Your husband, who once decided to medicate a cracked skull with cocaine, practically ordering you to stay in bed. The hypocrite. Thomas Shelby was an undoubtedly smart man, but when it came to medicinal advice, he should probably have been the last one giving suggestions. 

In the beginning, you could understand why he was worried. Yes, technically you had been "shot" a few months ago, by a rather rude man trying to prove he was more dangerous than your husband. Truthfully, you'd had sewing accidents that bled more. One time when you were 15, you had accidentally sliced the side tip of your left pointer finger off using a pair of scissors. But luckily you father had been a doctor and was able to fix it up at the house with ease. If held up straight though, it did still look like the tip of that finger was slightly crooked, but that's another story. But the man who'd shot you must have been drunk, because even your blind uncle had better aim than him, and all you were left with was a small nick on your shoulder and a small tear in your dress. Yes, it was still terrifying, and both you and you husband still woke up some nights, hearts beating fast with the thoughts of what would have happened if he had better aim. But in the end you were, for lack of better term, just fine. 

That didn't stop your husband from worrying more though. It seemed the incident had flipped a switch in him, often shared by new mothers or teachers, who tended to be hyperaware of everything that could go wrong for their young steeds. For weeks after, Tommy had been on high alert, not even letting you go out with Polly alone, and everyone knew she could handle anyone just fine. Though maybe there were some good points to his overprotectiveness.

For about a month after, Tommy had decided to work from his home office so he could be closer to you just incase. This meant he didn't have to drive over half an hour to the office every day and could spend more time in bed with you in the mornings, something neither of you complained about. Then you spent many of those days in his office with him, working on your own projects or trying to convince him to let you play boss for the day. That idea was a quick no, but it didn't stop you from stealing his coat, sitting in his chair and, pretending to bark out orders to invisible blinders while he went to the bathroom. Nor did it stop Alfred Solomons from laughing like an hyena the time he had called right as you picked up the phone. You still weren't over knowing he heard you (as Tom) threaten to "make a pie out of the testicles out of whatever coward dared feed the horses Scottish hay instead of Irish!".... Luckily it hadn't been the time when him and "Tommy" were planning how to hide their secret affair. 

In the end, Tommy had eventually gone back to working at the office and only the maids were left to witness your "brilliant" impressions. Soon life went back to its usual order... atleast until you'd gotten hurt again. 

At first you thought it would be fun like before, and that you could spend time trying to convince Tommy he'd had better things to do than sign papers all day. Namely you. But unfortunately, it seemed your husband decided that your injuries weren't serious enough to warrant the both of you a bed rest this time. And truthfully, you also didn't mind that too much either. You adored your husband and loved spending time with him, but that didn't mean you didn't have plans that not involving him. Most days were spend either helping the maids around the house, planning the next gala with Lizzie, or going out with your own small friend group. You had plenty of things to do without him. 

That was until you realized for some reason, the things you wanted to do weren't able to be done. For starters, you had a suspicion all the maids and been ordered to politely decline your offers to help with anything, even laundry. They'd simply smile at you and let you know you didn't have to worry about it, before offering to make some tea so you could rest your head. Then it appeared that both of you and Tommy's spare cars were in the shop for "repairs" meaning you'd have no way to out to meet your friends. Yes, they could come over, but still not all your friends were lucky enough to have cars and you were often the one driving everyone around. Not even Esme or Polly were able to come over, as Polly had gone to take care of a sick Ada in London, and half of Esme's lot had their own mini cases of colds. Even Finn who lived with you and Tommy, had gone with Isaiah, Curly, and Uncle Charlie to Wales for the week to bring home the new horse Tommy bought last month. After a week stuck at home it was getting old, and you wanted out.

So you decided to hatch a plan. And because you had a sneaking suspicion he started it, you had a good idea who your unwitting accomplice was going to be....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was now 6:34 and you had made plans to meet Lizzie at a silent film at 8:15. Though some may not have expected it, you got on quite well with your husband's secretary, and the pair of you could often be found going out to lunch on days when Tommy was particularly stubborn, or having tea with the other Shelby women on the weekends, laughing over whatever foolish thing you'd seen that week. It also didn't hurt that your sweet older brother had shown an undeniable interest in Lizzie, which seemed to be reciprocated anytime they'd meet at a Shelby party. You smiled remembering how many questions he'd asked about her after she'd left the night they'd met, or the grin on her face when he'd "run into" the pair of you on the way back from lunch one day and offered her a flower from a bouquet for your mother. What a wonderful coincidence of course, that your mother and Lizzie had the same favorite flower. So it wasn't an unusually occurrence for you to be seeing her, though you had a feeling if you tried to tell your husband, the last car might just happen to be out of gas. Eventually, you simply decided not to tell him and now all you needed was a way to get there...

And at 6:46 that way came rolling up the gravel as your husband finally returned in the only "working" car left. Standing on the front steps with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a blanket over your shoulders, you waited until your husband had stepped out of the car.

"TOMMY!"

Running up to the man, you smiled wide, quickly embraced him, greeting him with a passionate kiss leaving you both warm. Then you handed him the whiskey, letting him hold his briefcase in the other hand.

"Now, I'm not complaining Love, but can I ask what new trinket I bought today, that deserves this kind of welcome?" Tommy inquired cheekily, bending his ear closer to yours as you lead him inside by his tie. 

He knew very well you loved him, and he absolutely loved you, but usually when he came home you were waiting in the living room or helping in the house somewhere. It had become a small game of y'all's too. If he managed to find you before dinner he'd get some kisses and some praises about how fast he'd found you, "your smart love" he was. If he didn't see you until dinner he'd still get kisses but it just wasn't the same. 

You'd never tell him your dogs played the same game when learning to play fetch. He didn't need to know that. 

Besides, it was all in good fun, and an easy way to try and get him home earlier. He could always work after dinner, but one thing you'd practically demanded the night you'd gotten married was that he was always home in time for the last meal of the day. And for the last two years he'd actually kept his promise, except for the days he was out of town on business. Even then you'd convinced him to have what you called "telly dinners". You'd sit by the telephone with your dinner plate on your lap and tell him about your day. While miles away he'd be listening, happy to hear your voice after being with Alfie all day. Hell, one time you'd even gotten impatient waiting for the call and inadvertently interrupted a meeting. You'd ended up having a lovely conversation with the other gangster himself about how his dog was doing, while your husband mumbled about "fucking betrayal on both ends." He didn't really mean it, but he'd always find something just plain odd about the friendship between you and the gruff man. If was as if the two most opposite ends of his world would come together sometimes and try to take a few more years off his life. But if being friends with Alfie made you happy then he'd likely have to deal with him forever. Or at least until he found a way to make the murder look like an accident....

"Can't a wife just be happy her husband's returned home? I missed you."

"And I missed you every second I was away." One thing about Tommy was that he could be quite romantic when he wanted to. And even if he did bottle up his feelings too often, he still had a sweet talk like no other. "But I seem to remember my lovely wife being slightly irritated with me this morning. Something about keeping her in a cage," Tommy rebutted thinking about the small argument you'd both had this morning. 

Yes, he did know that he probably should let up a little on the overprotective precautions he's set up these last few days under the guise of letting you rest. But what he'd not yet told you, is the same day you'd gotten hurt, another enemy had made a threat on your life. And then getting a call, not even an hour later, from Frances about your concussion had thrown him in to a small panic, remembering the last time he'd almost lost you. So he'd taken his chances and used your minor injury as a way to keep you at the house for a few days while he had the man delt with. He knew he should have just told you from the start, but then coming home and seeing you curled up in the master bed, asleep in one of his shirts with a melted ice pack by your pillow, he'd decided to wait. It wasn't until today he'd finally had confirmation the danger was over and he could be sure you were safe. Maybe if your head really was better, he could take you out to dinner to celebrate.... Hopefully that would also soften the inevitable lecture he'd receive upon you learning the truth.

"Well yes I did say that, but I've had time to think, and as long as you promise to make it up to me later tonight, I'll forgive you," you replied coyly, lips brushing his as your words left no room for confusion on exactly how he'd have to make it up to you. "And besides," you said stepping back from him in the front hall, nudging his arm slightly so he'd drink the whiskey, "My head really is feeling better now, so maybe tomorrow we can go out to dinner too. I've been at the house all week you know?"

Tommy drank the whiskey and smirked, spreading his arms open wide as playful show, "With an offer like that how can I refuse, eh love? You want a real romantic escape from this place huh?"

You laughed, before pulling him close again wrapping your arms around him tightly, not giving him the chance to set down his briefcase or the empty glass. After all, if his hands were full, how could he stop you from digging your hands into his coat pockets during the embrace. Loving kisses on his face and neck helped distract him from your less than honest intentions. Well, partially less than honest... you still did fully intend for him to make it all up to you, especially with the small noises beginning to come from his throat as you kissed the small spot beneath his neck he loved. BUT that would happen only late tonight after the movie and maybe a few drinks with Lizzie. 

Quickly but efficiently, you moved a hand under the blanket you'd wrapped yourself in outside, to muffle the noise and pulled back from him again. But this time, Tommy has plans of his own.

"In fact," he said slowly backing you up to the nearest wall, finally putting his case and glass on a nearby table and taking the blanket from your hands. You hopped he hadn't noticed the slight jingle it made when he threw it to a nearby chair. "Why don't we start now," he whispered, beginning to leave light kisses on your neck, "I do have a lot to make up for after all. Telling the maids not to let you help at all, and then I had the cars brought to the shop so you couldn't leave incase you almost passed out again." If he hadn't been kissing your own sweet spot right now you might have pinched his ear and began to lecture him on just that. Letting out one soft moan, you ducked your head to press his lips against yours once again. You pulled him closer and grabbed his tie, taking control of the kiss again.

"Nope Tommy Love, I'm sorry but that can't happen just yet."

Hearing those words your husband frowned as he was the one to pull back lightly this time. 

"Why? Does your head hurt? I can get something if you need it," he asked concerned. Maybe the fall was more serious than Polly said if it was still bad a week and a half later.

"No love, my head's just fine Tommy, but I got a call from Polly earlier, saying there were some papers you needed to get done by 11:00 tonight. They were the ones you neglected when I surprised you for lunch last week and got knocked off the desk," you cooed at him, running your finger down his chest slowly to remind him exactly what kind of lunch it was. Plus, if he got too worried about your head again he may not let you out of his sight, and your plans would be ruined. It was 7:00 now and you'd need to leave soon. "She said they were very important and you really need to finish them. Therefore, I insist that you immediately go to your office and get them finished. And finished properly too, don't just rush it to make time for me."

"Love you know I'd never rush with you,"  and you have a small snort at the truth in those words. "Besides, I guess you do make a point and we wouldn't want to anger my aunt would we," Tommy chucked, knowing at least six things he'd said today to piss his aunt off.

"Exactly, so why don't you go to your office and close the door. I don't want to see you until at least 10:30 Mr. and don't forget to double check spelling. Those papers better be fit for a queen because that's exactly what your aunt deserves," you commented, lightly pushing Tommy towards his office. You had him now. So close!

Tommy smiled lightly and leaned over to grab the blanket from the chair, intending to bring it back in his office where it came from. Shit.

"Eh eh eh," you scolded lightly, stepping in front of the chair and grabbing Tom's wrist lightly right before he could pull it up. "I'm not done with that," you took the blanket from the chair yourself and bundled it to your chest, "You. Office. Now. And remember," you pulled close to Tommy one final time, "after 10:30 when you're done with your work, come and find me. And Tommy?" you teased, teeth lightly biting his ear lobe drawing a small groan from him as his eyes closed, "Tommy I did do some gardening today. Why don't you start by looking places where one can get a little less," you lightly kissed his other earlobe, "dirty? Maybe the bath will still be warm..."

Tommy cursed lightly as you placed one final, deep kiss to his lips before pushing back and sending him on his way. You were still in the front hall when he looked back over his shoulder, waving happily to him. And he was none the wiser that underneath the blanket was your other hand....gripping tightly to his car keys.

Romantic Capture (Part 2)

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #Peaky Blinders

[moonlight-prose]

✧ DRUNK ON YOU ✧

a/n: we just keep getting filthier as the fics progress this month. so i've never written spit kink this way before. i honestly didn't think i'd be into it, but there's something about this man that makes my brain fuzzy. this is listed as me wanting to get tipsy with torres cause i feel like he'd take care of me. i hope y'all enjoy!

day six - spit kink | kinktober 2023

summary: "after a long week of stress—your job taking more out of you thank you would have liked—you needed a night out. if only to spend time with him."

word count: 1k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, spit kink, spitting, swallowing, sir kink, dom!joaquín, fluff.

Two drinks. That’s all it took for you to wind up like this. Draped over your boyfriend at the club, tucked away in a corner booth, as he whispered something in your ear you could barely hear over the loud bass of the music. It thrummed through you, vibrating your entire body as you sat there, smiling at him with a hazy look in your eyes. Something he’d seen many times before.

“How are you feelin’?” he asked, running a thumb along your chin.

You grinned, leaning into his touch. “Good,” you mumbled, loving the way the alcohol sent warmth spilling into your body.

“Yeah?” He’d been sipping on the same glass of water the entire time you’d been there, already claiming the spot of designated driver tonight.

After a long week of stress—your job taking more out of you thank you would have liked—you needed a night out. If only to spend time with him. He pulled you closer, his hand splaying across your back, the warmth of it a delicious feeling. Part of you loathed the fact that your dress was keeping you from him. That thin layer of fabric stopping you from feeling his bare touch.

“I want,” you said, dragging a finger along his button down, picking at one loose button. In your hazy mind you made a mental note to fix it tomorrow—knowing he would let it simply fall off.

He nudged his nose against your cheek. “What do you want hermosa?”

The deep color of his brown eyes caught you in their hold, drawing you in closer until you couldn’t find your way out of them. Joaquín’s hand slid down lower, fingers brushing the top of your ass, and your breath hitched. Something now stirred in your chest, building slowly. Sensually.

“Want you to kiss me,” you breathed, curling a hand around his collar and drawing him in closer.

There was no resistance from him, because if there’s one thing he wanted more. It was to devour you. To drag you into the club’s bathroom and make you see heaven. He was as voracious as you—desperate to feel you in every manner possible. Which left you here. Sliding your lips against his and moaning softly when he took the lead—his hand grasping onto the back of your neck and pulling you closer.

Your heart fluttered, his touch making you want to drag yourself into his lap. The fact that you were still in public was the only thing that registered in your brain, keeping you from making a spectacle of this. To others you looked like two people in love. After all, it wasn’t odd to see people makeout in the club. But to each other…you were so much more. There were times you wondered if the word love could even describe what you felt for this man—what you knew he felt for you.

Biting down on his lip you pulled it into your mouth, sucking on it until his pained groan echoed in your ears. He licked into you, tasting the tequila on your tongue and smiling when it spread along his. There was no doubt that he was a good kisser, but you could feel the restraint in his touch. Taste the desire on his tongue.

“Kiss me,” you begged, pulling him closer until he practically covered your body.

He chuckled, running his thumb along your cheek. “I am bebita.”

You shook your head. “No. The way you want to. Please…sir.”

Something flickered in his eyes, turning them darker. The club’s neon lights illuminated him from behind, casting a blurry halo around his head, and you could feel the breath get knocked from your lungs. Joaquín was always beautiful. That was a fact you had no doubts on. Yet tonight—even through your drunken haze—he looked ethereal. Like a god come down from the heavens above to bestow a kiss on your lips.

Oh how lucky you felt.

His swollen lips parted, nose flaring slightly as he used his thumb to pull at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth for me.”

You followed his request before he finished it, your maroon red lips parting, tongue barely sticking out. As if on instinct you fell into that familiar space. Waiting for him to tell you what came next, what he wanted from you. He grinned, leaning closer and blocking you from the eyeline of everyone at the club—his thumb digging into your cheek.

You felt it then.

His spit hitting your tongue, coating it. Some landed on the corner of your mouth and before you could do anything, he was dragging it along your cheek, smearing your lipstick right along with it. Making a mess and giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Swallow.”

Heat trickled down into your lower body, slick spilling into your already drenched panties. And he watched you follow his order dutifully. Swallowing with a fucked out grin on your lips. He groaned, mumbled good girl, before he dragged you back, kissing you with a fervor that hadn’t been there before. He licked along your tongue, his hand digging into your hip to prevent himself from touching you further in public.

Moaning, you tried to tilt your hips up into his hold, but he held you down against the booth. Kissing you so thoroughly you felt it down to the very tips of your fingers.

“We’re going home,” he said, entirely out of breath—a flush spreading along his cheeks. “Now.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip and fluttering your lashes. “Okay sir.”

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, before gathering your coat and purse, leading you carefully out of the booth. Even though you weren’t entirely steady on your feet, he still kept you close. Making sure that you made it out safe. He was ever the protector—always the one who made sure that you came before anything. That thought alone nearly made you drag him back to the bathrooms.

Five steps out of the door he leaned down, pressing his mouth against your ear, his arm tightening around your waist. His breath was hot against your skin, causing goosebumps to raise along your arms. But that’s not what made your knees shake, breath catching in your chest.

“My turn to taste you,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along your waist—completely aware that the alcohol was no longer the thing you were drunk on.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x f!reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x y/n #my writing #kinktober 2023

[jung-shook-iieee]

Pairing : mafia boss jk × chef reader (f).

Genre : oneshot, mafia au, yandere.

Warnings : mafia Lord jk, he's really rough tho, smut (dub/noncon, facefucking, unprotected sex, degradation, spanking, bruising, slightly public sex, humiliation, light daddy kink), he's kind of obsessed with y/n , graphic descriptions of violence & gore, slapping, unhealthy dynamics,

Description : you stumbled upon something you shouldn't have, and now jungkook needs to make sure you stay silent.

Word count: 3.2k (of pure filth.)

A/N : it's dark for some readers so please do not read if you're not comfortable. But if you like it then please do vote and comment. Thank you. <3

A/N : well I do think this one needs a little editing here and there but I'll just leave it here as it is, maybe I'll edit in future. Please enjoy and do tell me what you think about this one. 💛

___________

Working here, in Jeon Mansion as a head chef was and a golden opportunity for you. The pay was good, the ambience was soothing providing a great warmth while working, the people were good. There weren't many rules and regulations for staffs but a few were to be strictly followed.

One of the most important rules for all the staff was to not enter the basement of the mansion. This rule was set way past before you joined here. You've never seen the basement, only saw a few people go down.

The mansion was glorious by all means, decorated just like you've heard in the old tales but with the twist of modern taste. The mansion had two large floors, at the roof top there was small setting similar to an expensive restaurant. The first floor consisted a number of large rooms and a gym. And lastly the ground floor, where you were assigned to spent you working hourshours. It had a beautiful, spacious kitchen, dinning hall, gaming room and a drawing room. It felt good to work there.

It was past 12 AM, you just wrapped up, logged your shift and cleaning the mess you and your coworkers created while preparing for a small get together party, which your boss had hosted.

Wiping your hands off with a wipe placed inside of your apron, you head towards the bathroom, down the back and to the right. The blocked off stairs are just next to the door, your hips practically bumping the sign as you head towards the door.

A faint, distant scream jolts you out of your movements.

You pause, hand frozen above the door handle, chest heaving with your breaths that grow in intensity. You go still, listening for another sound.

All you hear is faint yelling, yelping and shuffles, all coming from the exact same place.

The stairs stare back at you with a vengeance, begging you to step over the locked chains.

It's only when the noises cease that you find yourself complying.

You manage to get over the chains, gown riding up as you slide your legs over, trying your best not to trip on the narrow stairs. You keep quiet, practically tiptoeing down each stair.

You can feel your heart racing, beating, like it's about to pounce out of your chest, an overwhelming sense of dread flooding your senses and drowning you in it.

As you head pass the top of the railing you see a very weird and scary surrounding, there was a door in front of you and when you turned the nob to open it, you see a hall of glass walls. the inside of it bar-like and art deco in design, red neon colored lighting illuminating the dark space. The doors are triangular in shape, coming together with a white tile as the top.

You're attention quickly wavers as you heard another loud growling and whimpering sound. It was rasped, a male voice. You walked in more and the voice only grew louder and clearer until you see.

7 men, standing close to a figure, all dressed in suits too fancy for a diner, bending over the frame like they're inspecting it. You're frozen, desperately trying to figure out what's below them, but one of them moves-

It's a man. A man you saw earlier in the evening. The man who barely eaten anything. The man who just sat at the dining table.

He's lying down on the floor, crimson blood staining the white of his button down. You can see his face is battered, beaten to a pulp, one of his eyes swollen over from the beating. There's a hole in his side where the blood is pouring from, and he's clutching it, gasping for air with a desperation you've never seen before.

The man above him has a gun, small enough to be concealed but large enough for you to notice- and he's clicking with it like a taunt. The man below him is fading, slowly losing himself, hand shaking above his fatal wound.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks. You don't even notice them, too locked in on the sight before you, the feeling of them dampening your hand as it covers your mouth the only real inkling of your physical reality you can hold onto. You're breaking out of your frozen state, turning to race up the stairs, but your own frenziedness breaks you.

Before you can even yelp, you trip, walking backwards and colliding with the hard door. The noise you make is loud enough for anyone to hear, and you cry at the realization- eyes wide like saucers.

They're staring at you. All seven of them. Eyes deadlocked on your shaking form.

One of them is... familiar.

You don't get the chance to react, before one of them is heading towards the door. You grab onto yourself, hoisting yourself up the stairs with desperate cries of fear, tears still falling down your red cheeks, you quickly tried to jump over the railing and run for your dear life but....but he grabs you. His tattooed hand have you by the ankle, pulling you down the stairs and pinning you against them.

"Please," You cry, broken sobs ringing through your chest, "I won't tell anyone, I swear. Please don't kill me, please, please."

His hand gravitates towards your throat, turning you around to face him with your back facing the stairs. He lands a slap to your face, piercing your skin in pain as your head retaliates with the force.

You whimper as he grabs you by the cheeks, squeezing them while he pulls you to look at him.

It's him.

It's him.

Jeon Jungkook - your owner, your boss, the man who hired you, the man who pays you. The man who was nothing but sweet and kind to you from the beginning, the man who always tried lifting your mood while you cooked for him, the same man who gave you extra money as a bonus whenever he felt that you've exhausted yourself way too much.

" I fucking told you not come here down. " He growled angrily squeezing your cheeks toughly. " Can't you listen this one thing huh? "

You sob, mumbling a multiple apologies. You don't even know why are you shaking your head. You gasp and breath, all together was getting difficult.

You hear shuffling sound and with one look you saw two of those men were dragging away the

Body to another room.

" Make sure she stay silent, jeon. We don't want any trouble from your side. " One of them with brown hair and dragon eyes walked towards you and he warned your boss.

" Don't worry hyung, she's a smart girl. She won't say a word to anyone. And if she does, then I'll take the responsibility. " He explained to him with stern eyes. Even though the person who warned Jungkook looked slight older, but still you could sense who's holding the actual power.

Jungkook turns back to you, he took in your condition, shaking from the fear and tear soaked face, eyes. His grip softens as his facial expressions calmed too.

" Honey- " He cooed, stroking your hair back from your face. He softly held your tiny face, " You have to calm down baby. "

When you're still hyperventilating, still sobbing and pleading, he lands another slap to your face.

"I said fucking calm down."

His voice is surprisingly calm. Deep and raspy, like he's talking from the back of his throat. He strokes the inflamed mark on your abused cheek, watching as your violent sobs turn into sniffles and whimpers.

" I'm not gonna kill you. " Jungkook promises as his doe eyes stared back at you, still wiping your fresh tears from your cheeks. " I just have to make sure you nothing about this right.? "

" I-I won-t. Don't. Prom-is-e. " You Hiccuped, too scared to even form a correct sentence. He tsked at your choice of words. He knew you were a smart girl, but you aren't even looking at him how can he trust you?

" Baby, are you sure? How can i trust you hmm? " He said softly patting your head, like you were a pet to him.

Your eyes widened with fear and you quickly shake your head, " No-No... , you can, I promise you can, please, please, I promise I won't tell anyone- I-I swear, please... " An ugly sob left from your mouth as you tried to make him believe you.

He stares at you, silent, pondering, doe eyes boring into your skin like the sun. They fold back up towards your eyes, but settled.

"I know you're not gonna say anything," Relief washes over you. "'Cause I'm gonna make real fucking sure you don't say a goddamn thing.

Fuck. Fuck. Your heart is going so fast you think you might faint, cries escaping your lips once again, fearful of what weapons he has in his mind and in his pockets. You subconsciously started dragging your body backwards. But he quickly notices and this time he didn't gave you a option and carried you like a sack on his shoulders. He walked out of the basement and took you to his room on the first floor.

He threw you on his bed, you scurried back like a scared cat. He stood there, starring at you, his thoughts conflicting whether he should do something or not. But he knew no matter what he did, he fucked up. He can't no longer hide his true self from you, and your too scared from him.

You held your down on your knees as you sobbed and mumbled sorry over and over again. It was making him frustrated even more. That's why he never wanted you to see the real him, you were too pure for that. But you chose this upon yourself, he can't help now. Can he??

" You know, we could have done a lot better. I had different plans for you. But you... " He sighed as palmed his face. You could see his brows furrowed like he was regretting this.

" You just had to go down there and witness all of that. You should have listened to me honey, just like every one does. " He sighs as he walked towards your side. " Don't move, be a good girl now. " He warned as he noticed you were ready to move back.

Just like a good girl you were, you listened. " Come here. " He said and you crawled towards him. He leans down, pushing more hair away from your forehead, lips pressing against the skin there: "Be good, and nothing bad has to happen. Okay? "

You nod, lips tightly pressed close, a whimper left from your throat as you see him Unbuckling his belt. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and the taking the black shirt off. He leaned down pressed his lips on your trembling ones.

"Good girl."

Jungkook's hands reach down beneath his trousers, pulling out his cock, already half hard. He gives it a few strokes until it's at full mass, continuing to stroke the top of your head with his free hand.

"Open wide. "

With a shaking mouth, you comply. He growls with the first slide of his cock in your wet mouth, letting out a holy curse to whatever higher power there is. He's practically too big to fit inside, your jaw crying with pain at the sudden stretch.

"Suck."

You whimper, palms clutching hard against your nails. Your tongue slides around his shaft as you suck on him, his groans and curses echoing in your head.

"That's a good girl," He praises, "Wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

You continued whining despite tasting the saltiness of his precum at the back of your tongue. He threw his head back, feeling the texture of your velvety tongue on his hard cock. God!! He imagines this moment so often, countless dreams of you sucking the life out of him. He just want to relish the moment

He slowly and carefully holds on to the back of your skull, " this is nice baby... " He furrowed his brows as he guided your head a little faster. " But i think I'm gonna need a little more, you gonna do it for me? " He asked as he collected your scattered hair in a ponytail. You could only blink away the fresh tears forming, unable to do anything but nod.

He started moving his hips, thrusting mildly. But no matter how careful he went you still gagged on his dick, spit flowing over your chin then rolling off to your clothed breast. You were ruining your clothes.

" You're not gonna say anything now, are you??" He grunts as he started thrusting his hips faster, " You'll let me ruin you, right? I know you will not disobey me again. God!!! " His thrusts pick up pace, his heavy balls quickly slapping against your chin with each movement. You cry out with each thrust, gagging and spitting around his head- but it just makes him harder.

But to your surprise , he pulls backback, slipping his cock out of your mouth.

Jungkook grabs onto his shaft, stroking himself with fast pumps, before letting go to rub his cock up and down your face. The wetness of your own spit slathers your skin, your eyes closing instinctually.

He slaps his cock against your face, tsking at the sight. Your mascara ruined, black tears running down your cheeks, spit and cum coating your chin completely. You felt filthy.

"You look like a fuckin' whore honey. " He says, as he wiped the mess he created on your face. Before you could react he tore off your dress making you gasp in fear. He then quickly turned you around on the bed raising your ass up in the air. He smacked your ass a few times before plunging his thick tattooed fingers inside your pussy making your cry on the bedsheet.

" Fuck.. I have to taste you before I go insane honey. " He mumbles as he crouched down to your already bend form level. His face just a mere inches away your cunt, you felt exposed.....he blew his warm breath on your wet skin making you shudder with sensitivity.

He licked a long stripe of your essence and you heard him growl. He never knew you could taste this delicious. He could eat you everyday like this, only if you would let him. He was eating and slurping messily making you arc your back and eyes roll to the back of your head. You didn't wanted this, but you can't stop the butterflies you were feeling. The feeling he was giving you was new, no one has ever went down on you. And this feels heaven to you.

" Ahh... Jung- please.. No.. Stop... " You blabbered too lost in the pleasure. Your mind was turning blank, the pleasure was increasing making you loose yourself.

Jungkook ate you a good few minutes then pulled away his face and stood up. He came out of his trousers and stroked his cock a few times before rubbing it on your entrance. His dick was soaking up all your juices. " I've always wanted to fuck you like this honey. Walking in here all pretty, all shy, all polite- kept makin' me think how good it would feel to ruin that pretty little head of yours. Make you my own little fucktoy- so polite, so willing, so obedient, just fuckin' made for this, made for me..just me..weren't you?"

You whine out a " no-no. " And shaking your head.

"No? " He asked sarcastically, " You're saying that you never wanted this? Never wanted me to ruin you pretty? Because your pussy is saying otherwise honey. " He taunted, you felt shameful because he was right. Your cunt is drowning his cock with your wetness, It's humiliating, how your body reacts, how your pussy clenches around nothing, how your slick drips down your leg and onto the bedsheet. It's fucking humiliating and depraved.

" I think you fucking want this honey, don't lie. It's useless. " Jungkook grunts as he slipped his tip inside your heat making your wides with a gasp following soon. He was huge, so much bigger than you've imagined before. Yes, you did imagined him with you in this position but maybe under some other soft circumstances. Not like this, you never wanted him like this.

You're gasping, whimpering, whining as his cock slides inside of you, bottoming out within seconds. The stretch burns, his cock thicker than anything you've had before, practically tearing you open from the inside. " See baby I fit so well inside you, just I knew I would." He starts to move, too fast as soon as he starts. His balls smack against your ass with each brutal slam, cock hitting your cervix in a way that has you sobbing- mouth wide and agape, unable to control the noises you're admitting.

That's it, baby," Jungkook's grunting, head tilted back in pleasure, "Take this fuckin' dick, all up in that tight little pussy." jungkook leans his body and wrapped his hand around neck to arc your back a little more. You gasp as his hold get tighter with each thrust.

You didn't even fight," He muses, "Didn't even fight to keep me out of this dirty cunt. That's how I know you're made for this. You already know what you're good for."

You gasp, letting out "ah, ah, ah's" with each rough pound he lands inside your pussy. Your knuckles are turning white from how hard you're grabbing the bedsheet unable to stop the way your body reacts to the stimulation.

"God, you're gonna fuckin' cum, aren't you?" He groans, smacking your ass, his rings leaving a nasty mark- "I've beaten the shit out of a man- I'm still fuckin' covered in his blood and sweat, and you're about to come? Fuck, you're such a whore, a good little slut for me."

You don't know why that builds you up faster. You're disgusted by how that makes you climb faster, how that makes your cunt clench, how your orgasm starts slicing through you like a knife- it's intense, how you come. You're twitching and trembling, he's barely able to hold you still with both hands, still fucking into you like his life depends on it.

"God, fuck yeah, gonna cum up in that cunt," Jungkook's grunting, moaning, cock twitching as you clench around it, "Gonna fill that little pussy up so fuckin' nice, never gonna want another cock. This pussy belongs to me, now, honey, and you're gonna fuckin' let me use it whenever I want."

His pounding gets sloppier, messier- and then he's yelling. His cum spills deep in your cunt, so much that you can feel it filling you up from the inside. He's left panting, moaning and gasping, still clutching onto your waist.

Jungkook pulls you up by your neck to sit up, level at height with him, pressing his nose against your neck.

"Mm," He moans, "Not gonna say a fucking word, are you, honey?"

You shake your head. Still shaking. Still trembling. Still processing.

He slammed his lips on yours and devoured you until he was sure he made you dumb.

"That's what I thought." One last peck on your lips and he says "You're learning fast. We're gonna have so much fun."

_____________________________________________________

Masterlist

@yellabella77 @taegularities @emojkluvr

#bts army #alternate universe #bts #bts gguk #bts jhs #aesthetic #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook yandere #jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts jeongkook #jeon jk #mafia jungkook #mob boss jungkook #tw: violence #tw : dubcon #kookie #bangtan seokjin #bangtan

[fabulouslyflamboyant5]

I Was Drowning In The Sea, And No One Could Save Me But You

pairing: former rhysand x reader, current/eventual eris x reader

summary: The scars your first love left run deep, deeper then the sea you seek comfort in. Centuries later, you are forced to face everything you left behind, all while needing to confront the future.

warning: canon typical violence, no beta we die like the suriel

a/n: This is the eris fic from tje poll I posted a while back! I feel like these needs a part two, but I don’t know if I will write one.

You had met him on a night like this.

That night, so many centuries ago now, had been darker, considerably darker than this one.

Furious and maddening, the rain falling from the star strung sky of Hewn City was sure to flood the streets. By the time you’d arrived at the celebration, your braided hair had already been dampened beyond repair.

Your dress was no better. The torn embroidery, originally supposed to represent a calm sea, had transformed into what could only be described as a tidal disaster.

You, like the gods, are still not sure why he sought you out.

What exactly had you possessed that night?

And when exactly had lost possession of it?

A skirt of blue hues trailed behind you, nearly dragging you down to the marbled floor. You were a sea monster incarnated, or the look your father gave you suggested as much.

Regardless of your predicament, tonight would be good. You would smile, you would dance, and maybe, if you were lucky, the rain outside would wash away your status. Ensuring you were never to be heard of again. That was your ideal.

And in a way, it still is.

As though he romanced the stars above, the High Lord’s son entered the room and possessed an aura intriguing enough to frighten you. He was beautiful, like radiance bathed in darkness.

Your mind called to him, hoping, praying, that he would be the one to save you from this court. Because simply put, he was the only one capable of doing so.

Fate is a fickle thing. One moment, you think yourself in control of it, and the next, you find yourself revering it.

As of right now, you are certain you should be cursing it.

This is the only time you’d ever be grateful for your father and his connections. Had he not been so well acquainted with the ruling family, than perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself in the position you are in now, waltzing with the heir to this court.

It is the sharp crescendo that pulls you out of your thoughts, dragging you back to the man whose gloves hands remain firm against your own.

You’d hate to stare, really. But violet has never looked so transparent.

“Lady of the Sea, that is what I shall call you.”

The timber of his voice was enough to draw a blush from your face, crimson and all. As for his confession, you are sure it was intended to mock you. Ridicule you and the monstrosity you must currently appear to be, or maybe always have been.

“I suppose I should be flattered,” you respond as he dips you gracefully, not missing the way your face retains the colour he drew from it.

“One could only assume.”

You’re sure if it. So sure you begin to doubt it. Mockery had no place in his words, or smile for that matter. Sincerity was the only thing painted across his chiseled face, the only thing calling out to your soul.

He was the last man to ever draw such a reaction from you.

You’d entertained many, and even married another. But none of them managed to command your soul, not like he had.

Before you could formulate a response, or process what he’d revealed, you found yourself bowing, thanking him for the dance.

The night went on and you did what you could to find him once more. But as fate would have it, he was gone, absent from the night that had practically drawn to a close.

You were disappointed, and for the first time in your life, found yourself not wanting to leave the confines of this manor for it was with him you experienced serenity. And if he was the ruler of that serenity, you wished nothing more than to reside in his arms until the tide rises and drags you away as it falls.

You would see him again only a few decades later: him being the newly crowned High Lord, and you, the woman who had sewn his coronation garments.

“One could say you outdid yourself, but I expected no less from the Lady of the Sea, herself.” Rhysand smiles tauntingly, waiting for the pink to cover your face like it had so many times before.

“I thought I asked you to stop with that. I don’t need to be reminded of the sea monster I transformed into that night.”

“Where you saw a monster, I saw a goddess,��� his smirk grew impossibly wider, “If you don’t believe me, you can ask her yourself, for we did share a dance.”

And there he goes again.

He knew of your feelings for him, he must have, you were sure of it.

Yet you were still not sure enough to act upon those feelings.

You supposed they could belong to you, and just you, for a little while longer.

And they would belong to you, and just you, for quite some time longer, because little did you know, that interaction would be the last the two of you ever shared.

Why the two of you fell apart is not an answer you possess.

Maturity, responsibility, whatever it may have been, some crucial piece of your relationship dissipated and brought the whole thing down with it. Animosity, oddly enough, could not be found between the two of you. There were no screaming matches or moments of malicious passion. There was nothing to suggest that the pair you made up would one day cease to exist. The lingering melancholy that seemed to permanently reside in your heart was the only reminder you had of the man you once loved.

The man you still loved.

The man you had not thought of since that night, centuries ago.

The same man who like you, had tied themselves to someone else. A mate, or whatever cruel joke the mother insisted on burdening you with.

You abandon those thoughts quicker than they come and allow the man who’s cruelty burns brighter than the sun, to lead you towards the celebration: Every step serving as a reminder of the life you let slip through your fingers. Or maybe, the life you mistakened as yours for the taking.

Whatever you had been pondering just moments ago is stolen, locked away and never to be given back because as if time had known a master, you halt at the sight of him.

A beauty that would persist for generations, that is what he was then, and still was tonight.

Surrounded by his Inner Circle, not yours; a distinction you still struggled to make, he stood tall as he admired the crowd.

He looked otherworldly, he always had. But like all beautiful things, he too managed to escape from the tides that pulled you asunder.

You refused to meet his gaze, and instead, for once in your life, found yourself much preferring the fiery eyes of your husband.

Husband.

The word nauseated you. Once upon a time, you believed that title was to be reserved for this courts High Lord.

But that was then, and this is now.

It is now that the nostalgic crescendo plays, breaking through the expansive walls of the manor, and drawing your attention to the mighty couple making their way to the dance floor.

If you still had a heart to break, you are certain it would be doing so.

Had the eyes you once adored looking into not met your own, than perhaps you could believe your own lies, for that was something you had always excelled at.

But alas, the piano carries on and the High Lord dips the High Lady in his arms, his violet eyes never leaving yours.

Whether or not your mate is able to discern the feelings that have escaped down the bond is not something you care for. Not right now, not at all.

Your soul still sings to him, a somber song, one full of longing and regret. You too, find yourself singing that same song when the time permits. You do not know the lyrics, or the melody that belongs to it, yet sometimes, when you are drowned in the cool waters of the sea, you find yourself singing it, completely familiar with all of its nuances.

Tonight, right now, is unfortunately not one of those moments.

But if it were, you find yourself wondering whether or not the High Lord would recognize the song, for he was the one who taught it to you.

The night carries on and your grief remains.

The cunning eyes of your mate remain on you and still, the name of this courts High Lord is all that resides on your tongue.

But fate, for all of its cruelty and kindness, would still not allow you a moment of peace.

You, the Lady of the Sea, or perhaps the abandoned sea herself, was never to be granted a moment of serenity again, for you would never find yourself in his arms again.

Yet for all you do not know, you can say with the utmost certainty that had destiny permitted it, had his arms encompassed you once more, serenity would not be something known to have fled.

Fled.

Just like you had from this court. Never to be seen or heard from again.

The handmaidens now belonging to you, and the court you suppose is now your home, insist that your beauty is derived from the sun.

Radiance, light, and joy. Everything you cease to embody, are all products of the sun and its glow.

You, like the High Lord of this court had once said, are as striking as the moon.

But what is the moon in the presence of the sun? One half but never a true equal.

And even more pressing, what is an army general in the presence of an already deceased spirit?

“You’ve always had your head in the clouds, so why is it you insist on being tied down to the sea?” You would recognize the husk in his voice anywhere. It was none other than the Lord of Bloodshed who stood behind you, the very man you once viewed as a brother, now wore the mask of a stranger.

Or maybe, the man who once wore the mask of a friend, finally removed it, for he always favoured deceit.

“You asked me that same question, centuries ago now,” you recall that very moment. The same night your former High Lord parted from you, never to be reunified. “Do you not remember the response I gave you then?”

“I do,”

“I will never be the light you seek, let me bathe in the richness of the sea and appreciate the enlightenment it offers me.”

That was the answer, the simple answer, you had offered him.

“Then why is it you are here, asking me that same question.”

“Because I believe the answer has changed.”

“And if I tell you it has not?”

“Then, I would remember it as the second time a lie ever spewed from your lips.”

Liar.

He called you that once. The last time you had seen him in fact. The very night you sought him out for comfort, letting the news of your marriage to that man spew past your lips.

“I have never lied to you.”

“It seems you have lied to myself and yours, sister.”

It stung, and you did not know why.

“My Lord,” you seethe, “this night is drawing to a close and I have responsibilities to attend to back at home,” you say, mockery and all.

Home.

As if that court would ever be.

“Gold, if I may say, looks quite marvellous on you, sunshine.”

You send a vulgar gesture his way and set off to rid yourself of whatever it is you are feeling.

The thought of your former companion’s words pain you, they truly do.

But there are worse things to be thought, especially in this court, of all places.

It is the man you do not want that calls for you.

Your name falls from his lips like a silent prayer to a god who has since abandoned the land he walks on.

You refuse to meet his gaze. Instead, stopping where you stand, and letting him stride towards you.

His words to you fall upon deaf ears as you do not care to listen to what he may have to say, what he feels he should say.

You do not hide it, not at all. The loathing that radiates off of you is even more vibrant than the hue of his fiery hair.

This place, this court, these people. You despise all of it and everything that supports it, organically or unfound.

For once, you find yourself longing to go back to the court you currently reside in.

For the first time, the prospect of Autumn sends something akin to fire through your entity.

#angst #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris #eris vanserra #lucien #lucien vanserra #rhys #rhysand #rhysand x reader #acotar angst #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #rhysand angst #feyre #nesta #elain #cassian #cassian x reader #azriel #night court #velarsi #hewn city #autumn #autumn court #fanfic #fanfiction #books #fluff #sad

[blkchainsaws]

how did we meet? 💙🦋

how genos, garou and saitama met you + a lil drabble

pairings: genos, garou and saitama x fem!black!reader characters: genos, garou warnings: gets a bit steamy with garou (mentions of kissing and messing his back up) author's note: i love one punch man i need to do things to garou

genos

clearly, he is an air fryer

he was in the midst of a battle and had to save you from a monster

he usually never remembers the face of the civilians he saves but he remembers every feature of your face, and when he thinks about those features steam starts to escape his body

your full lips, your almond eyes with mascara and lash extensions, the way your brown skin was smooth and buttery.

your hair was laid, down to your back. a nice shade of blonde similar to his.

a medusa piercing, your ears pierced and a glamorous nose cuff to tie it all together.

"are you alright?" you were too much in shock and frozen in fear to reply, you could only nod before being taken away.

he realizes black girls are his type.

he's silent about his lil crush, but saitama knows

he doesn't go out of his way to look for you but if he's ever in the same area he last sees you he tends to stay around longer than he would

saitama is his wingman, he tagged along to help genos ask you out

he's an S class hero, so nobody gets suspicous of him scanning the area. they just assume he's looking for a monster

he practices his lines for what he would say if he ever came across you, it's kind of cute

he has an entry in his diary about you, it's pretty lengthy.

he soon walks into a local convenience store and finds you at the counter. you immediately recognize him and started thanking him for his service. "thank you so much for the help demon cyborg!" you look around before pulling out a pizza bun, "this is for you." you placed it in his hands with a nice big smile.

your appearance was different from the last time. your piercings were still there but your nose cuff was now replaced with a dangle cuff. a simple makeup look was now on your face, it highlighted your cheekbones and beautiful nose. your glossed lips, long lashes and soft features pulled him in. he was moving without a thought. a hiss of steam escapes his vents. he gives a stiff nod. "It was no trouble." a few more words were exchanged and genos left with your number and name.

"it's y/n. my number is (xxx) xxx-xxxx. call me anytime" you gave him a big smile, revealing your smiley piercing.

"Oy, Genos, how did it go?"

Genos showed his teacher the slip of paper. "I've gotten her contact information."

Saitama gave him a thumbs up. "Nice work."

saitama

the strongest man alive

is trying to help you get your cat back.

you usually gotten your cat yourself, but she was so high up it was impossible to get her

just your luck a bald man with a cape walked by, hands full with groceries. a sign you should let him on with his day but you were so desperate you called out to him

"please help! my cat is stuck"

he turned to you and froze in his tracks.

you weren't exactly dressed in your finest outfit, a simple hoodie with a picture of a cabbage with a pair sweats.

you havent been asleep either, so your eyes were a bit droopy and begging for rest.

your hair was slicked back into a puff ponytail. with a little hairclip in the front.

your face was completely bare, aside from some chapstick you slapped on to keep your lips from drying out.

saitama usually wasn't interested in women, but something about the simple woman standing in front of him begging for her cat back was drawing him in.

he retrieved your cat and gave her back in about 10 minutes or so.

you smiled, showing the gap in your teeth. "thanks"

saitama smiled back, giving you a thumbs up.

a few days pass and he's walking by the same area again. when he spots you. only this time you're wearing black leggings with a plain black hoodie. (and for some reason your socks were over the leggings) your hair was now in two afro puffs, and you were wearing many bracelets and jewelry.

you looked up at the same tree, same branch from last time, your cat was sitting on.

saitama wasted no time walking over and helping you once again.

"i'm in a bit of a rush sir" you clasped your hands together in a pleading motion. "please, please! if you could..."

"no worries." he placed his bag down, looked up at the cat and looked back at you. "could you stand back a bit?"

"oh-sorry!" you took a step back, before a force of wind almost knocked you off your feet. he soared into the air directly towards your cat, swiping the feline in one swoop and landing safely on his feet.

"there ya go", he stared with a simple look. you were in shock. never have you thought you would come across a man with such power. you took your kitty back into your arms a soft purr coming from her. "oh...wow...thanks er..?"

"saitama." he grabbed his bag, nodding towards you. "no problem"

you smiled, showing that cute gap off. "thank you so much saitama!"

you shook his hand. "i'm so sorry this is how we had to meet, i promise i'll make it up to you!" you pulled out your phone practically shoving it towards him. "i'm going to be busy this week, but please, call me if you ever need a favor" you gave him a warm, friendly smile.

saitama stared, was this happening? it's been so long. he entered his contact information and gave your phone back. "alright...uh..." he hadn't gotten your name. you were already halfway down the road before turning back to shout,

"it's y/n!" you waved goodbye and went on your way.

saitama went home, got settled in and almost forgot about the interaction, until...

ping! his phone rang out

"hey it's y/n! ; _ ; sorry i didnt txt earlier i was busy today! did you make it home safe?"

for the first time in a while, saitama smiled.

garou

the best for last

he was in the park with tareo and saw you cleaning up the trash.

your locs were tied back, showing off that beautiful face of yours. it felt like the sun was purposefully shining on you to enhance your beauty.

he caught himself staring before looking away and paying attention to tareo's hero book once again.

not only did he now have tareo as a reason to come to the park, he now had you.

he would get to the park purposefully early, in hopes to catch you there and it was a rare chance you were already there. you were either sitting and reading a book or cleaning trash.

soon enough he started approaching you. which was scary for you

a large, muscular, man dressed in all black was walking towards you with a devious smirk? maybe you should get your taser out

other than his appearance he was quite charming.

you both began sharing interests and soon found you both had VERY different views.

he had a cocky, mocking tone whenever you came up with a rebuttal for his claims.

but the way your full lips moved and glistened with every word made him really consider going to the other side.

your lashes fluttered, the jewelry in your nose shined, your angelic voice with your accent, and your face was breathtaking.

he knew you were worth the risk. he would fight a thousand bastards for a chance to see you smile. he would go back to the old man's dojo and clean that entire place with a toothbrush. his OWN toothbrush. just for a chance to smell your scent of coco butter and sunflowers forever.

your long locs passed your butt, but were in a ponytail, carefully wrapped and none slipping out of place.

"you talk alot." he smirked, looking at your lips and back to your eyes. you scrunched your nose. "not interested." he chuckles and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. his natural smell was strong. an expensive cologne laced your nostrils.

he leans in, "but i am." his smile widened. "keep talkin' with that voice of yours..."

you felt a warm feeling across your face. you suddenly felt small and shy, like a small kindergartener with stage fright during their class performance.

a deep breath, "...as...as i was saying..." now he's leaning in even more. "hm? I can't hear you?~" you had to turn this situation around. in no way was a man like him was going to make you feel so small and shy.

you looked up at him with half lidded eyes, your signature move. which caught him completely off guard. his cocky attitude was quickly shattered and replaced with the same small, shy feeling you had a while ago.

"ah-uh" he stuttered, backing up a bit. you kept your eyes on him, a small smirk coming across your face. "as I was saying. garou." you placed a manicured hand on his VERY muscular arm. "i think you should invest in therapy instead of fighting random heros." a cocky smirk on your face.

you both made eye contact. his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. you both leaned in...closer...closer..you felt his breath on your lips. you wanted to kiss him...you wanted to see him panting, covered in your lipgloss stains, your nails leaving marks in his back.

he suddenly grins and pulls back, holding up a middle finger. "as if!"

yall think i would have a chance with garou if he was real? if you said no you a hater

#[💙] headcanonz #[🦋] drabble.fic #garou headcanons #garou x reader #garou x black reader #genos headcanons #genos x reader #genos x black reader #saitama x reader #saitama headcanons #saitama x black reader #one punch man headcanons #opm x reader #opm x black reader #garou imagines #genos imagine #saitama imagines

[amoraffairs]

𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬’ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary: remus is unsure of whether to call you, but with encouragement from james ,sirius & mostly belle, he decides to call you.

notes: i wrote this supper fast & it’s super short. it’s basically setting up y/n & remus’s relationship. I love writing for them more than i thought I would.

part one

“Cmon Daddy, We’re late” Belle says tugging Remus hand. “We wouldn’t of been if you didn’t run of” He jokes. Belle just simply continues to pull him forward.

The father daughter duo make their way in the Potter. Belle shouting a Happy Birthday & then a demand for cake.

“Well we were waiting for you missy” Sirius says resulting in Belle sticking her young at him. Sirius shrugs innocently as he ignores Remus’ glare. Remus knowing she learned that from Sirius.

“I’m sorry Unca Siri, for being late.” Belle says repeating the words she practiced in the car with Remus.

“My favorite niece can be as late as she want.” James says picking her up & spinning her around. Belle letting out childish giggles.

“Well your favorite niece, got lost in the store today.”Belle let’s out a gasp, that he told on her.

“It’s cause I saw Unca Jamie in the store, we’ll not Unca Jamie. I thought it was you. She had the same hat as you & wore your glasses.” Belle defends.

“She’s my best friend now. She’s really pretty. Daddy thinks so too.”

“Ohh he does” James says rising her eyebrows at Remus. All stares were on him. Remus rolls his eyes at his friends actions.

“Yeah, & she gave me her number so we can hangout. Daddy is holding it for me.” Instantly his revived knowing looks from both Sirius & James.

“So when is Dad going he going to call him.” James asks Belle. “Right now!” She shouts excitedly.

“Belle, Im starting to think you like her more than me.” Sirius says in mock offensive.

“Ye—“ Belle starts to say but James covers her mouth. “She says I’m a real princess unlike you Unca Siri” Belle says her arms crossing over each other in annoyance.

“I said it one time & I was joking.” Sirius defends.

“Ok, you two. You need to separate before it gets ugly. Hey Belle, you want to help Lily get the cake.” James says & Belle runs to this kitchen excited for cake.

“So Moony you going to call her.” James asks a teasing tone in his voice. “Don’t start.”Remus says.

“Cmon Moony, what’s there to think about. You haven’t gone on a date since ‘she who must not be named’ left.” Sirius tells him, his words carefully.

Remus winces, physical winces. The subject of Belle’s mother was still tough for him. She left when Belle was one, only leaving a note.

“I don’t know.”Remus shrugs. “What’s the harm in just calling her. Let Belle have her play date & get to know her.” James compromises.

“Maybe..” Remus starts by is interrupted by the sound of happy birthday, as cake came.

You sit in your small bedroom apartment. The sound of your phone ringing draws you out of the book you were reading.

“Hi is this Y/N. I’m Remus from the store with my daughter—“ You hear Remus start to say but not before another voice interrupting him.

“Is that Y/N. Let me talk to her. Please. Can I talk to her please.” You recognize the voice as Belle & you smile at the thought she really wants to talk to you.

“Hold on bug.” You hear Remus tell her. “Hi, Remus” You finally tell him.

“Belle was wondering if you’d want to hang out with her-“ “tomorrow” “Bug tomorrow too short notice, how about in a week—“

“I could do tomorrow” You say hoping to stop an argument. You hear a cheer from the phone. Belle’s voice.

“Great. Belle want to show you her castle, she made. Is one at our house ok.” Remus tells you.

“It’s perfect” “I’ll send you the directions” You hang up, with a smile on your face.

You know on the door of the Lupin house.

“It’s Y/N. I’ll get it.” “Belle don’t open the door without knowing who it is” You hear the father duo from inside the house.

“Y/N is it you” Belle shouts on the other side of the door. Once you say yes, the door opens.

The door opens to reveal Belle. She’s in another yellow dress. This time a replica of the cartoon princess Belle.

She runs up to hug you & you lift her up so you are carrying her. “How are you, princess.”

Remus runs up to the door in an attempt to stop belle from opening the door, only to be too late.

“I asked who it was this time,Daddy” Belle says in attempt to defend my self.

Remus eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N” You give me a smile in return.

“Come look at my castle. Daddy made it for me because I passed my test.” Belle tells you jumping down from your hold & running into the house. In an attempt to get her Castle ready.

Remus invites you in the home, & you wait in the Lupin living room. Given strict instructions from the five year old not to look yet.

“I never properly thanked you for finding Belle. I couldn’t imagine if you weren’t there.” Full sincerity in his voice.

“Technically she found me.” You both let out a laugh.

“You read?” You ask pointing to the bookshelf stuffed with books.

“Yeah, but as much as would like to recently.” You let out a knowing nod. “I’ve been halfway through the Bell Jar for weeks.”

“If you ever need a new book, you can borrow any of mine.” Remus shyly says.

“I might take you up on that offer, you practically have a whole library.” Remus lets out a genuine laugh. Remus goes to say something before Belle’s voice interrupts him.

“Come look at my Castle Y/N. You can come live it it too.” Belle says appearing next to you, dragging you toward her room.

Remus smiles at your retreating figure. Maybe Sirius & James were right.

#remus & belle #belle lupin #dad!remus lupin #dad!remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader

[xotication]

☆,

how i think tattoo artist ken & slightly generic y/n would cross paths..

alright so, i think y/n would have a somewhat boring job. maybe you work in an office, a coffee shop, yk something of the sort.

you'd follow the same routine everyday; wake up, go to work, come home, eat, rot, sleep, repeat. it was starting to get a little bit sad, sometimes you didn't even know where to begin to make the change.

one day you're sitting at home on your day off, mindlessly scrolling through instagram. one of your good friends juuzou posted a story & it happens to be a new tattoo he just got. he didn't have many but he was starting a tattoo journey for sure. you pondered a bit.

"maybe this is what i need.." you said it to yourself & quickly shot juuzou a text to see where he gets his work done.

he immediately ends up calling you.

"y/n, are you getting a tat??"

"yeah i think i might. i want some change in my life zo, help me out, yeah?"

he wastes no more time & just sends you the address of the shop he normally visits. he refers you to one of his favorite artists too & reassures you that he does really beautiful work.

that's all you needed to hear. with no real plan, you got dressed & set out on your way to the tattoo shop. it was about a 20 minute drive so that gave you time to think up at least a little something.

juuzou texts you, "i'll meet you there, i have GOT to see this.."

you laugh & send him a couple emojis before focusing on your drive once again.

+

you're now in the shop, looking at all the art that littered the walls. now that you're here in the flesh, hearing multiple tattoo guns & seeing others getting pierced.. it was all overwhelming. juuzou notices the look on your face.

"oh come on, you can't back out now. we're already here."

he was right.. you wanted to do this, there's no going back, "you're right, i'm not backing out. i'm gonna do it"

"alright. i'm gonna go grab the artist okay? sit tight."

you did, still thinking of what you were gonna tell said artist when they asked what you wanted. your main thought was, go big or go home.

+

"hi, are you the virgin?"

you practically choked on your own spit. who just asks that..?

"the tattoo virgin.. nothing to do with your sexual relations.."

"oh. yeah."

"nice. i'm kaneki, i'll be the one designing your tattoo, & of course tattooing you. do you have any questions or concerns? do you know what you want done..?"

"well first, how bad is this gonna hurt..?"

kaneki chuckles, "where are you getting it?"

"uhm, my thigh"

"ah.. it'll sting lots but you're a big girl. you can handle it, yeah?"

your cheeks get warm upon hearing his remark, & juuzou looks between the two of you, already not liking the tension between you.

(not in a jealous way, more of a, really.. my best friend? way)

"why don't you tell him what you want, y/n."

...

"& i want there to be fire too, maybe coming out of it's mouth, or somewhere around the body of it. i dunno, but def some fire.. please"

juuzou & kaneki sat there, perplexed.

"what.. what?? don't tell me you can't do it.."

"nono, trust, i can do it. i just wouldn't expect for a girl like you.. to want a tat like that."

"a girl like me?? juuzou what do you think?"

"i mean, i- yeah. it's definitely a tattoo."

"i'll start drawing it up, you can tell me what you think & if you want any changes to be made. this is gonna be on your body forever so don't be afraid to tell me if there's something you don't like, okay?"

+

after a long design process, you guys finally got the perfect drawing.

now it was time for placement, & skin prep.

"can you take your pants off?"

"what????"

"uhm y/n.. how else is he gonna put a tattoo on your thigh?"

"oh..." you clearly didn't think this out very well.

you removed your pants & sat on the cold leather chair.

kaneki grabbed a fresh razor & shaved the area, just in case of any hair. then he places the stencil, & asks you to go look in the mirror to see if you like the placement. you genuinely love it, so you sit back down.

kaneki begins piecing his tattoo gun together & reality is setting in. you're really about to get a tattoo, a HUGE one at that.

you decided on a piece of a dragon with fire coming through the twists & turns of the body. not only that, but it was going to be a color piece, so that means extra time & work- on top of the line work & shading.

you were too caught up in your own thoughts until you heard the tattoo gun start up.

"you ready, y/n?" juuzou asks you & you violently shake your head no.

"you'll be fine, sweetheart. i'm all ready so, let me know when you are." kaneki tells you.

you sat there for a bit & then finally gave him the okay to start tattooing.

"holy fucking shit!" the pain was like nothing you'd ever felt before, & you were not enjoying it in the slightest.

you just started & you already wanted it to be over. to think you had multiple hours of this to endure? you wanted to shrivel up & die in the middle of this tattoo shop. how were you gonna survive? would you?? god, you didn't think you would. you were damn near biting your fist trying to resist screaming out in agony.

"you got this y/n, just remember to breathe, okay?" you felt like slapping kaneki for saying that.

you hadn't even really paid attention to him but now that you’re stuck in this chair with nothing else to distract you. you took notice of all his tattoos. i mean, they go from his neck all the way down his ankles. how he managed to do it? it's beyond your own comprehension.

you thought this was going to be your first & your last.

+

it had been 3 hours. juuzou left & kaneki was just finishing the last couple of touches.. before color that is. but that'd be left for another session, much to your dismay.

"alright, y/n, you're all done for today."

"for today..? what. why can't you just finish it now..?"

"that'd be a lot for you. it's your first tattoo & you're already overwhelmed with pain. plus, your skin is puffing up. i think this is a really good place to stop, hun."

"ugh just give me a 30 minute break. i wanna finish it today."

"no. it's done for today & that's that.

"oh fuck you."

"excuse me?"

"sorry."

"mhm. i'm gonna clean it & wrap it. then i'll go over the treatment & aftercare process & you'll be good to go.. after you pay me of course"

"mkay."

...

"you should take down my number so we can discuss when would be a good time for you to come in."

"uhm, can't i just call the shop?"

"well yeah, but why do that if you could just text me directly."

"mmm.. okay"

the two of you exchange numbers, you pay him, & he sends you on your way home.

the whole way there, you couldn't stop thinking about how you really just did that. it still hurt like fuck, but you'd live.. hopefully.

+

it was around 9pm, you were showered, & cozy in bed. damn near ready to just knock the fuck out after the day you've had..

ping!

"you still hanging in there, pretty?"

it was kaneki.

here you are tat artist! ken obsessed anon ^.^

#anime #fanfic #headcannons #kaneki ken #kaneki x reader #tokyo ghoul #manga #fluff #tokyo ghoul re #kaneki

[svltzmans]

for worse or for better - h.m.

a/n: good morning! another banger request from ??? anon lets all thank them for their contributions to my blog 😭 this is the last fic in my request box so if any of y'all have something in mind you want me to write now is the perfect time to send it in <3

warnings: kinda angsty??? but then fluffy so its fine <3, mentions of periods, unnecessary cursing bc i am a sailor

y/n knew when she woke up that her day wasn't going to go well.

the squeezing pains in her abdomen had already started, and she wasn't having it. not even a little.

messily making her bed and getting dressed, she realizes that even the most mundane of tasks are stressing her out.

much to her dismay, she still had to go to class. and wickery practice, and to study group, and...

ugh.

more than anything else, y/n just wants to stay in bed. maybe shed a few tears and order a pizza. but that is a complete pipe dream.

"y/n! hi!"

it's lizzie, and she's in an annoyingly good mood.

"hey," y/n manages, her mood shining through in her tone.

lizzie feigns a frown. "someone didn't sleep well, huh?"

"i slept fucking fine, if you must know," y/n sneered, becoming irritated by lizzie's ever present charm.

"jeez, y/n. i'm gonna walk away now."

and she does, and y/n immediately feels bad. she knows she's pretty irritable on her period, but she thought she'd be able to control it.

but as it turns out, she's not in as much control as she thought.

y/n takes her usual seat in potions class, usually right next to her girlfriend, hope.

except hope's not there when class starts, and y/n is irritated. the one person that makes her feel better decided not to show up.

she sighs, resting her chin in her arms. she knew class would feel extra long without hope next to her, cracking jokes and sharing the doodles she draws instead of focusing and taking notes.

an hour finally goes by after what feels like three, and y/n is exhausted. she knows she has to go to wickery practice or face the wrath of penelope park.

does she care about that? not much, but she forces herself to change into a t-shirt and gym shorts and make her way to the field. she's sure hope will come eventually, considering that wickery is much more fun than potions class.

the team has already started practicing when y/n arrives, and she decides to just jump in.

making a few decent passes, she thinks her day might just be turning around. still with no sight of hope, y/n's disappointment grows in the pit of her stomach.

she forgets about her misfortune momentarily when she spots lizzie, preparing for the next play. she makes her way over, feeling unnerved that the blonde is still angry about earlier.

"lizzi-"

"y/n, don't apologize. i have a period too."

"how did you...?"

"i just know. that's the only time you ever act like that. well, that and when you haven't had caffeine in a couple of days."

"you know me a little too well. now, give me the ball."

toward the end of practice, y/n sits down on the bench, sipping some water. she scans the field for hope, thinking she might have missed her, but she's nowhere to be found.

it's not exactly unlike hope to miss class, and maybe even an occasional wickery practice, but y/n is getting frustrated. she hasn't seen her girlfriend all day, and hope hadn't made any effort to see her.

as if her thoughts could be read, hope plops down next to her, in her wickery uniform.

"what'd i miss?," she asks, placing a gentle kiss on y/n's cheek as she settles.

"uh, well, where do i start? potions, almost all of wickery practice... where have you been all day?"

"dr. saltzman needed me, we had to go-"

"well why didn't you tell me, hope? i've been worried about you. you can't just disappear all day. you didn't even put in any effort to let me know that i wouldn't see you at all today."

with that, y/n stands and starts walking away. she knows she needs to be alone before she starts saying worse things she doesn't mean.

hope is left completely blindsided by y/n's reaction to her presence. y/n never gets frustrated in that way, especially not with her. she figures something must be bothering her, and without much consideration at all, she comes to a conclusion.

after coming down from her anger high, y/n is consumed with guilt from the way she treated both hope and lizzie. she at least had attempted to apologize to lizzie, even though lizzie had practically done all the work for her.

she decided that she couldn't face hope, not like this. she is almost ashamed of the way her eyes are puffy from the tears that had streamed (and are still slightly streaming) down her flushed face.

just as y/n starts to prepare to sleep, there's a quiet knock on the door.

"y/n? it's me, are you in there?"

it's hope, and y/n decides that she has to talk to her eventually.

"yeah, i'm here," she mutters, voice still weak from crying.

hope creaks open the door, shutting it gently behind her, and sits at the foot of y/n's bed.

"are you okay?"

"totally fine."

"it looks like you've been crying."

"nope. just... allergies."

a silence falls between them, with a worried look on hope's face as y/n avoids her gaze.

"y/n..."

before hope can even start her sentence, tears are welling in y/n's eyes. she crossed her fingers that hope wouldn't notice, but soon the few tears turned into a small stream.

hope moves closer, wrapping her arms tightly around y/n's torso. "oh, baby... it's okay. you're okay," she whispers, gently scratching the back of y/n's head.

"hope... i am so sorry, i don't know what got into m-"

"shh, hey, it's okay. i understand. i get a period too, you know."

"lizzie said the same thing! like exactly!"

y/n can't help but laugh, and hope soon joins her.

"c'mon, let's get some rest, yeah?"

"only if you'll stay tonight."

"y/n, if you think i'm going anywhere, you have lost your damn mind. but, i think i need to borrow some of your pajamas..."

"say less."

before she knows it, y/n is dead asleep, hope's arm draped lightly over her girlfriend.

hope pulls her closer, planting a light kiss on her forehead.

"sleep tight, don't let penelope park bite," she whispers, giggling quietly to herself.

#hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson #wlw #legacies #legacies x reader #the originals x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader