#fuller house edit

[queers-gambit]

Bloodhounds

prompt: you and your husband have a different kind of foreplay that include disguises, sneaking out of the castle, and sometimes, fucking in an alleyway... Or two.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x highborn!female!reader no specified House

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: also NO physical description of skin, hair, but height IS mentioned inna way and weight IS insinuated because - let's face it - fucking against a wall ain't easy!! this is a STAND ALONE.

warnings: poor excuse for smut, explicit / descriptive language, i guess this is porn with a plot?? (surprise!) there's cursing, Cherry needs to get laid ASAP, stop giving her internet access!! half-edited, author mildly gave up. ✅ spoiler free

"My Lady, how go your studies? Aemond says you're making grand progress," Alicent smiled, leaning back in her high-back chair with a goblet of wine in her always-tight manicured grip.

"Oh," you quickly swallowed the bit of food in your mouth, perfectly trained to take small bites for moments such as these - but also, because it was 'unladylike' to eat with fuller cheeks. With a quick dab of the cloth napkin left on your lap, you nodded at her, "My Lord husband likes to exaggerate. Studies are going well enough, My Queen, but surely, I've much farther to go."

She hummed in contemplation, "From what I've heard, you're planning a trip to Pentos?"

Ah, so this is the reason she wanted you alone.

"I am wrestling with the idea, Lady," you assured softly, "yet, there has been no decision made, nor am I swaying any which way more heavily." You watched her carefully, "You have an opinion on the matter, do you not?"

"How can I not, sweet child," she sighed, setting her goblet down as you did the same to the utensils in hand, "when there is a possibility my son is leaving?"

You couldn't help it, truly. But the laugh was genuine, "My Queen! There is not a world in which I would dare take your son from you. If I decided to venture to Pentos, it will not be with my white-haired husband and his 180-year-old dragon. That warrants attention I do not wish for."

"You are a Targaryen now - "

"I do not look it," you nodded. "I have a no-name face and can still travel undetected. Your son cannot afford the same luxury."

"And yet, I cannot shake this feeling..."

"That feeling you feel is natural for every mother," you nodded, taking a sip of water to clear your mouth and throat of residue. "It is the dread that your children are growing up and will leave, like you were forced to as a girl." Her face was painted in earnest shock. "Do not think so little of me, Your Grace, I've done my fair share of familial research - but also, the maids like to gossip." Alicent chuckled some. "I am truly sorry for your mother, and that you had to leave home to live with your father here... But there will come a time your kids are going to spread their leathery wings and fly. If it's something I've learned in the few, short years of marriage? You cannot hold dragons back. Believe me when I say, I do not want to take your son from you, but should he make his decision, that's only his to make. For now, I am simply weighing pro's and con's. The idea of adventure is a little too tantalizing."

Alicent regarded you for a long moment before slowly nodding, "Then it shall be his decision."

"If you'd like, if I go and end up in Braavos or other, I'll send a barrel of spiced wine."

"Oh, you," she chuckled, waving you off some.

"How fairs the King?"

Alicent paused to smile softly at the woman she married her son to, and for a moment, let her heart beat with pride at such a fine young woman joining her family. Y/N L/N was a woman of great beauty and even greater brains, a woman her son could engage with; a woman she was pleased to see fit in effortlessly. There wasn't a single soul in the entire castle who did not like her - and it came in handy at times.

Y/N was also the only one who ever bothered to ask about Viserys anymore, too. So, Alicent smiled and nodded, "He has his good days and bad."

You nodded slowly. "I remember when my grandfather started to lose his mind... It was gradual, then one day, it was like a switch flipped. For the last few years of his life, he didn't know who I was, but with Mum and Da' out, workin', doin' whatever they needed to, I was with him day in and out... It wasn't easy."

"You've never spoke of your family before," Alicent sat up in intrigue. "Three years being married, six months of courting before that - and you've never spoke of them," Alicent looked at you with a sense of wonder.

"Some family's aren't worth the effort to discuss," you shrugged a bit. "The moment you sent word for the courting season, away I was swept, and my father was adamant on making a match. Can you imagine how happy he was to learn I was courting the Prince?"

"Was he?" Alicent asked softly, giving a knowing look.

"He kept asking if it were true, and asked if his dragon took his eye," you snickered to her. "Kept asking what rumors were true."

"Gods," she chuckled.

"I told him outlandish things," you admitted with a snicker. "He caught on eventually, cursed me to all Seven Hells... Stopped writing, and then word reaches me of his passing. Hm," you shrugged a bit.

"Well, you're better off without, yes?"

"Indeed, I'd say... Look, Your Grace, I have not made any decision about my travels. As of right now, I'm okay reading my books and letting my mind go on adventures - I will tell you when I have made a decision."

"All right..."

"You will be the second to know, after Aemond, of course."

She smiled, "Yes, yes. Of course."

You glanced out the window to the sun's position, finding it nearly completely gone, and turned to your mother-by-law. "Speaking of, I'm sure he's expecting me soon. I'll be going now," you stood slowly, waiting for her to stop you.

"Of course, yes, yes, go on," she smiled. "Thank you for tonight."

"Always my pleasure," you promised with a curtesy, turning after, and exiting the room. "Have a good evening, Ser Cole."

"And you, Princess," he nodded with a soft smile. "Good supper?"

"Oh, you know I have a love-affair with Chef Hayford's cooking," you chuckled, watching him return it with a nod of agreement.

Turning forward, you only had to travel a short way; mostly turning down three different stone corners to reach a more secluded hallway. Aemond preferred solitude, so, when you married, you snagged up the suite in the Western Wing that was newly renovated - but it was "sadly" away from most of the castle's traffic. So, of course it was perfect for the pair of you.

When you slipped in the door, Aemond was standing at the basin of water, shirtless, leaning heavily on the stone and wiping the back of his neck while lost in thoughtful contemplation.

"Aemond?" You questioned softly, shutting the door, and rushing for him. "Are you all right?" When in the light, you saw the discoloration of his skin, whispering, "Oh, my love..."

"It's not so bad," he answered in the same lowered tone.

"Liar."

"No, truly, it's not the worst I've had," Aemond straightened up, looking down at you with a soft smirk. "Hi, poppet."

"Hi," you smiled, letting him lean down some as you rocked to your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Cole was brutal in training, but it was good," he nodded, dropping the washcloth after wringing it out. "And yours, my love?"

"Well... Your mother's caught rumor of our plans..."

"What's that mean?"

"She directly asked if I mean to go to Pentos and if I mean to take you with me, as if to take you away from her."

"Gods," his eyes rolled, "swear, the walls have ears in this place."

"Tell me of it," your eyes rolled. "I think she's off the scent for now, but we should be more diligent and a little more careful..."

"Hmm," he considered, nodding after. "Yes, love. Right, then."

"Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"How about at Kavvin's?"

"In the city?"

You nodded with a grin, "Feelin' up for a game, love?"

Aemond turned to you fully, hands on your hips and a grin on his lips. "Yeah... Yeah, yeah, I could go for something to eat."

"Start there, then," you whispered.

"You've the time it takes me to clean up and change to get out of here," he smirked, forehead on yours.

You dashed around the room to change into a tunic, trousers, boots, and a thick muted-color cloak. Aemond chuckled to himself as you blew him an air kiss before sneaking through secret passage door... And away you went.

Once out of the Keep's grounds, it was easy enough to lose yourself in the city's streets; but kept to the plan and made for Kavvin's tavern. You slipped in and made quick work of finding the young lad, working on sopping up a puddle of ale, and dashing over to him.

"Princess," he chuckled some, eyeing you up and down. "What's it for you tonight, then?"

"Send him down the Street, I wanna see how far he'll go," you smirked some, squeezing his elbow as you slipped him a Gold Dragon as a tip.

"All right," he shrugged. "Want a drink while you wait?"

"Oh, please, you and I both know that man takes the longest fucking strides in the bloody Realm," you laughed a bit, Kavvin nodding in agreement. "If I want to win, I've gotta go."

"Back door's open," he smirked, pointing you off.

In fact, he had to restrain a laugh when not a full five minutes later, Aemond was stalking into the tavern - eye sweeping the area. He decided that for tonight, he was on your side, and made himself busy with other customers to stave off telling Aemond anything.

However, nobody flagged Kavvin down when they noted the hooded man with one eye stalk up to him.

"My Prince," Kavvin greeted softly, tossing the cloth he was using over his shoulder. "You're out late, aren't you?"

"Hardly," Aemond sighed some.

"Well, you will be," the lad smirked.

"Where's she off to?"

Kavvin shrugged, and Aemond slapped a Gold Dragon to his hand. "Uh, think she made mention of... Well, now that I think on it, 's a bit fuzzy, yeah?"

"Where, Kavvin?" Aemond growled, another coin dropped to his hand.

"Hm, yes," he examined the coin, "think she said something about goin' off down the Street, yes?"

"No, she didn't."

"Swear it, honest," Kavvin nodded. "Said she wanted to see how far you'd go tonight. You do somethin' to piss her off, mate?"

"Not that I'm aware of - though, she might think 'twas I who told the Queen of our plans."

"Well, that makes little sense," Kavvin chuckled, "for even I know, the idea to leave this wretched city was your own..."

"She's an easier scape goat for the courts and help to gossip about," Aemond frowned a bit. "The Street, you said?"

"Street of Silk," Kavvin agreed softly, offering a coin back, "honest, that's where she said she was headin'."

Aemond nodded and turned, leaving the bartender with his hand extended; but it quickly recoiled with a smirk as Aemond took leave. After a chuckle, Kavvin thumbed the coin to flip in the air; catching it in a swipe, then turning as he pocketed his extra coins as a few men grew louder and sloshed ale around - leaving Kavvin in for a long night tending his bar.

The Street of Silk was alive tonight, as it was all other nights. Lowly lit torches hung on the walls lined your way; most wearing hoods and darkened colors to hide themselves. Whores and Mistresses hung out of doorways and windows; hollering, snarling, laughing at any passing customer.

You didn't often dare to venture down this way, but tonight was special; you were in it to win. So, you ducked down a darkened alley and knocked three times, in a specific pattern, at the wooden door.

A moment later, it pulled open.

"What're you doin' here?" Tiyana smirked to you, leaning on the doorway. "My brithday or sum'thin'? Here ta treat me, is it?"

"Not tonight, my sweet," you smirked. "Carry a message for me?"

"To who?"

"My husband."

"Ain't no way," she shrugged. "He don't come down this way, no, ma'am. Ain't nobody seen the One-Eyed Prince 'round these parts since - well..."

"Yeah, yes, yes, I know. But he'll come this way, and I need you to catch his eye. Tell him to go by the markets."

"Oh - I get it," she laughed. "You two playin' that game, innit? Yeah? You two li'l freaks, is it?"

"A bit," you mused softly. "Will you do as I've asked?"

"Gonna come back and entertain me a bit?"

Your head cocked, eyeing her up and down, "Perhaps - though, my husband is often insatiable."

"Say that like I haven't eaten his cum out your cunt before, hey?" She smirked. "All right, yeah, fine, I'll tell 'im if he comes ta see me, yeah?"

"You're my favorite for a reason," you smirked, holding your hand out.

"Lady," Tiyana gasped, weighing the gold in her hand. "Th-This is more than I make inna month, it is! What'chu givin' it ta me for?"

"You've always been loyal and discreet," you eased. "Don't fail me tonight, love."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she grinned. "You're a right Gods-sent Lady, you is. I'll tell yah husband what you want - markets, you said?"

"Yeah, the market stalls," you nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," she smirked, nodding as you pushed off again into the city's streets.

This time, Aemond was slower to arrive on scene. He stood at the mouth of the rambunctious street, eyeing it with malcontent, but something in his stomach solidified and moved him forward. Bad thoughts and haunting memories swarmed Aemond's guts and mind, but still, he let his feet glide down the natural decline.

His eye surveyed the promiscuous activities around him, finding it would be the perfect place to catch you - but then, someone else was catching his eye.

She leaned in a low-bearing window, tits nearly fully popping out of her shirt; eyes rimmed in coal, and hair pulled off her neck. Her eyes ran over his hood and then noted the lack of an eye, motioning him forward. He didn't want to; there had been many who gestured to him all night, but for some reason, this was different... He glanced around, then moved forward.

"She's been to see you, Tiyana?"

"Not without you, Lord," the whore smirked, sitting herself on the window sill. "She's very loyal, that one."

"Being why you're helping her?"

"I'm helpin' yah both!" She laughed. "I want you both ta get laid, hey? So, listen, right? She went down that way," she pointed, "but said meet her in the markets?"

Aemond paused, lifting his gaze slowly. "Down that way?" He asked, pointing down the alley.

"Mhm - took a left, down there," Tiyana pointed, leaning out of the window a bit. "Can I ask something?"

Aemond sighed, glancing around them to the bustle of the drunken crowd. "Sure, what is it?"

"Why's it you two do this? Hey? Just wonderin' - life so bloody boring, you two need sex games?"

Aemond smirked a bit, "More like... We prefer to keep things interesting. You find new ways to get the blood pumping."

"I know a few ways," she smirked.

"I know," he whispered in agreement. "But you know the agreement - not without my wife."

"Wasn't tryna persuade yah, Princey, just wonderin' why yah's do this," she smirked.

"Keeps things... Fresh."

"Hmm," she nodded.

"Think a hunter and prey, yes?"

Tiyana grinned, "Ah, yes, there it is - yeah. All right, fair enough, my Prince. She went that way, but said markets."

"You're a hidden gem," Aemond smirked some, dropping more coins in her hand.

"And you two are me favorite customers," she winked. "Go on, get goin', she's waitin' on yah out there! Fuck 'er good for me, lad! Hey-hey!" She laughed loudly as Aemond pushed off, heading down the alley he was pointed towards.

Slowly, the sounds of the city fell behind him and Aemond noted the way this path took him closer to the water-ways. With a small smirk, he made a judgement call and ducked down a different alley; peering around to slink in the darkness.

Like a bloodhound on the scent after a weakening deer, the pair of you danced around one another; where one ducked into an alley, the other was tip-toeing away. He grew tired of waiting and decided to look around the market like you had said.

It was there in the maze of market stalls that you saw him, smirking as you quickly exchanged your cloak for a different colored one. From there, you picked up an abandoned basket and slunk around the outskirts of the stalls. You kept an eye on Aemond, moving when he did; keeping distance between you but feeling a little frisky.

So, you took a risk, and casually strolled by him as if intent on picking from the plum cart.

He didn't notice you; your eyes watching from under the hood as his tall figure allowed him to peer over heads. Again, you ducked around the few carts and stalls, just watching him for another moment.

Then, you ventured close to the apples... And again, Aemond was too busy glaring at a man who bumped into his shoulder to notice. You took another risk, and dared asking the vendor a question - voice clear on the air. Still, he did not notice.

After another few minutes of watching him turn in confusion, wondering where you could've gone, Aemond started towards the closest tavern - thinking maybe you were hidden in plain sight.

How right he was, but unknowing.

You crept around, exchanging your cloak again before jogging after your husband. However, when you peaked around the doorway of the tavern, you noticed how the white-haired man you loved and adored had effortlessly melted into the crowd, and now, you were back at a disadvantage.

Learning from past mistakes, you quickly turned and let your legs pump with effort to rush away from the markets.

Around a few corners and down two alleyways, you were arriving at the bay port - but only had a moment to recognize your surroundings before a hand clamped over your mouth as another quickly coiled around your middle to pin your arms.

You gasped into the calloused hand, feeling the strong chest slam into your back before forcing you back a few steps. With gritted teeth, you were slammed into the stone wall of one of the darkened alleyways. However, your eyes settled on your 'attacker' and quickly slitted. "Husband," you identified.

"Wife," Aemond smirked. "You're getting predictable, love."

"How'd you know?"

He shrugged, "I felt your eyes on me in the markets and figured I could blend in at the tavern. From there, I knew you'd follow to keep an eye on me, so, I waited, and when I saw you rush away, I took a shortcut."

"Mhm," you hummed, lifting your chin as he leered over you. "I did learn something tonight."

"What's that, my darling?"

"You blend in rather effortlessly when your hair's covered," you muttered as he slowly stepped closer so you were nearly cowering into the brick behind you. "Might do us well, after all... Should we choose to leave..."

Aemond's one hand rose to hold your jaw as the other planted against the wall to corral you to him. "You say that as if my mind's changed."

"Has it?"

"Not in the slightest," he promised, petting his thumb over your lips to catch the bottom one. "Where you go, I go, and away from this wretched fucking city is where I want us to be."

"You'd leave them?" You asked with a smirk. "Leave your family? For me?"

"For my own family?" He corrected, nodding, "Yes, I would've left yesterday if I knew."

"How fucked everything has become?" You whispered sadly, lifting a hand to pet down his collarbone and rest against his pectoral.

"Something like that," he nodded, lifting a knee to separate your legs. "You'd go with me? When the time comes, you'd go with me?"

With a sigh, you nodded, trying not to grind down on his thigh. "Anywhere, my Prince - anywhere you want, we'll go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you all but whimpered as the hand that once caressed your skin then moved to a bruising grip around your neck.

"Hold still," he nodded, "I won, yes?"

"Mhm."

"Then hold still while I claim my prize," he smirked, yanking his dagger from under his cloak and slowly dragging the pointed tip down your stomach. He didn't press hard, instead, dragging it between your skin and the cloth of your trousers. "Good girl," he crooned as he let the dagger's blade slit the seam of your pants.

"Aemond," you glanced up the alley nervously, body nearly trembling from anticipation.

"Shhh," he nodded, leaning in to breath in your scent. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other working to literally cut a slit in your trousers; letting his tongue flatten against your pulse point.

"Aemond," you whimpered, holding onto him tightly.

"Good girl," he purred again, sheathing his dagger and letting his hand drop again to then pet up your dampening slit from outside the cloth of clothing. "Easier, yeah?" He smirked against your ear, breathing deeply as he let his pointer finger push into your heat, praising, "So warm for me. But I need you wetter than this to take you - don't wanna hurt you, pet."

You groaned a little, holding onto him while keeping a leg up his hip. "What if someone sees?" You whispered against his mouth, practically mewling like a bitch in heat.

"Let them," he nodded, "all they'd see is a man, pleasuring his wife." Your breathing subtly changed as his mouth hung over your ear, promising, "Splitting her in two, watching as she takes his cock so fucking well. That's all they'd see, pet."

"Fuck."

"Hmm, fuck you how?" He smirked, letting a second finger join his first. "Want me to bend you over? Fuck you on the floor? Find those barrels back there?"

"Against the wall, want you t'take me against the wall," you nodded, a sheen of sweat slowly forming over your skin. "Wanna feel you in my fuckin' lungs, yeah?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants, she gets," Aemond growled, slapping your hands off him and readjusting you two. "C'mon, love, earn it - up, jump up, c'mon." When you did, he caught you easily, grunting, "Atta girl. Hang on," he panted then, pressing you against the wall as he adjusted to hold you against the wall while freeing his cock.

"Aemond, please, please," you begged softly, holding his jaw with both hands, "Gods, I need you to fuck me so bad."

"C'mere," he seethed, hoisting you a little higher to adjust his cock at your (cloth-cut) entrance. You both gave guttural moans as he let you sink onto him, grinding your hips into his to better adjust. "Fuckin' grippin' me too tight, love," he growled, hands squeezing your hips as you kept hold of his neck and shoulders.

"Gonna last f'me?"

"Might just have to pump you full, hmm?" He smirked, using his chest to slam into yours and righten your spine. His hand shot up to constrict around your neck, the other used to hold you on his hips; making your legs work overtime to stay atop him.

"Oh, Gods, fuck," you whimpered, hood still over both your heads as Aemond rammed into you.

"Told you - wasn't wet enough," he cursed in your ear.

"Feels fuckin' amazing, please, don't stop," you begged him, hearing his small grunts and growls start up as both hands moved to hold either thigh and keep you spread against the wall. "Oh, my Gods," you sobbed, truly unsure if you were feeling pleasured or not from the feeling of Aemond fucking through you.

"Ah, fuck, fuck," he hissed, hips stuttering as he met his first orgasm.

"Wow... That was record time," you teased quietly when he paused to keep you full to the hilt of his emptying cock.

"I warned yah," he smirked some, readjusting his hold as sweat coated his skin. "My cum just makes you wetter, hey? Yeah, look at that," he hissed, eye cutting down to watch his cock slowly pull back; revealing webs of cum between you and him.

Your hands pawed at his neck, tugging him forward; whining against his mouth, "I need more, please."

He smirked, "Gonna be a good girl and hold it all in until we get back to the Keep?"

You whispered, "What if I can't?"

"I'll just have to fill you again..." His cock twitched, making his throat bob. "Want your belly swollen with our kid, 's 'bout time, isn't it? For the Gods to bless us?"

"Yet you talk of leaving the city - "

"All the more reason," he promised, still holding you spread as he let his hips start up again; rutting into you slowly. "Protect you, protect our kid," he muttered into your neck, "get away from this fucking place - be safe. Be together - oh shit," he moaned.

"Yeah," you grinned, holding him to your neck; clenching your muscles to make him whine, "that's right, emotional intimacy turns you on, doesn't it? Hey?"

"Fuck - yes, yes, it does," he promised, starting to pick up his pace. "Just want you pregnant already, fuck's sake."

"Then fill me," you purred, clenching your teeth when his fully-swollen cock once more stabbed through you. "I wanna make you a Daddy."

"Shit," he breathed, turning his head when he heard noises; but did not stop. Three men and two women stumbled down the alley, drunk, cooing when they saw the couple against the wall.

"Ye-ahhh!" One leered.

"Give it to 'er!" Another hollered.

"Fucking fill me," you followed right after in his ear. "Oh, fuck, yes, please, right there," you hissed as he pinned you harder to the cold stone behind you, the group of five passing with their eyes glued to the pair of you. It was oddly erotic, spurring Aemond on as your mouth hung open in a silent scream.

His balls jackhammered into the wet apex of your cunt as his arms all but braced against you to keep you in place. You were moldable, you were limp, you were taunt with pleasure at the same time; you were a twitching, moaning mess when feeling returned to your limbs as his thumb found your clit.

"Take it, I know my girl can take it," Aemond growled, humping up into you to create friction at that special, gummy spot on your inner walls. "Oh, so fuckin' good, just take it, my precious girl," he praised, hearing the group still stumbling about at the other end of the alley.

"Why don't you fuck me like that?" One of the girls growled in annoyance.

"I can't hold yah like tha', by the Gods," her partner laughed.

Your hand slapped outward against the stone when your husband rubbed your clit in time with his thrusts; letting his mouth open slightly to bite at your shoulder and encourage you to do the same.

You came with a cry, mouth full of his shoulder's flesh; rolling your hips into his with your booted heels pressing into the meat of his arse as waves of pleasure rippled across your beings. Aemond wasn't far behind and when his cock was almost strangled by the clenching of your walls, he came for a second time.

It was enough for you both, panting in effort as your legs were numb. Aemond slowly pulled out of you, hearing you stutter to breath as his cum instantly pumped out to drip onto the pavement beneath you.

"Gods," Aemond breathed in shock, watching the puddle slowly grow.

"Ah!" You yelped when he lowered you, and your legs gave way; his arms darting out to instantly cling onto you as the back of your head thumped into the wall.

"Shit, love, all right?" His hand pressed to the tender spot as you pouted some. The group that watched had since passed, leaving you alone again with split trousers that grew wetter from the ooze of cum. Aemond was trying to catch his breath and support you at the same time, readjusting your clothes for you best he could. "Got it, love?"

"Can't feel my bloody legs," you complained lightly.

"C'mere, I've got you," he promised, arms tight around your waist. "Did good tonight, pet."

"But I lost?"

"'S not about winning or losing, in the end, we both reap benefits, yes?" You nodded. "And as you said, tonight gave you reassurance we could blend in across the Narrow Sea, did it not?"

"It did," you agreed. "But I want to wait until next month, I want to know if it's stuck."

"I'll fuck you everyday until then, yes? Breed you, like I know you want me to," he smirked, one arm holding you up to walk in front of him as the other fingered down the crack of your arse. "Keep walking, don't make a scene," he whispered in your ear, pushing his fingers into your cunt as you lead the way through King's Landing. It wasn't the most comfortable, but Aemond made it doable; pausing in another alleyway to push your chest to the stone wall.

"Aemond," you cursed his name into the wall brushing your cheek.

"Easy," he chuckled, nudging your feet apart. "Take me once more and I'll carry you home."

"Aemond?" You reared back a little when his hardened cock pushed into you again.

"What do you need?"

Your hand raised to pet over his cheek, back bowed to hold yourself up and keep him inside you. "Make me a Mommy, please," you whispered, earning a sharp slap to your arse cheek before his hands seized control of your hips.

"Hold it in this time, then," he teased, starting to thrust into you like a wild horse; bucking his hips into yours to create ripples across your flesh. It seemed as if your frantic motions in the middle of the alley deterred anyone from turning down it, leaving a brief moment of privacy in the sweltering city night.

One of his hands slithered up your front to fondle your breast, tweaking a nipple until you were nearly collapsing into the wall. Aemond had to hold you slightly as you bent lower, almost desperate to take him to the hilt as you fucked back against him - and he took full advantage of your new position.

Aemond kept his feet with your own, hands on your hips; thrusting harder into you as sweat beaded on his skin to roll down his pearly flesh. "Fuck, Gods be fucking good," he cursed, "how's it you're this tight, still? Hey?"

You whimpered wordlessly, gasping when one of Aemond's thumbs came to gently rim around your puckered hole. He didn't often let himself explore your arse, but sometimes, to catch you off guard, he liked testing your limits. After making him venture down the Street of Silk by himself, he figured a little payback was in order.

A stranger started down the alley and actually paused to watch the pair of you, Aemond's spit being spat from his mouth onto your holes; winking in the distant moonlight.

"Take it," Aemond growled when your legs gave way, and sent you both careening into the dirty floor. It only spurred him on further.

"Don't stop," the stranger recommended, loosening his breeches to take his cock out and pump himself to life.

Aemond, fully enraptured with the feel of your cunt, let his hand latch onto the back of your neck to hold you in place as he thrust harder, harder, harder into you. Your hips bruised from the way he pounded you into the cobblestone, growling as he glanced at the stranger.

"Oh, shit," the man nodded, pumping faster. "Yeah - look me in the eyes, mate, that's it."

"The fuck?" You whispered, glancing up to watch.

"Eyes on him, Princess," Aemond demanded, fully hunched over you as he felt his stomach's coil tighten; informing you, "almost there, precious girl, keep bein' a good fuckin' girl - oh, ah fuckin' Hell!"

"Oh, yeah," the stranger nodded. "Can I cum on her, mate?"

"You wanna die?" Aemond snapped.

"Lemme use her mouth," the stranger complained, head tossed back and eyes screwed shut. "Betta yet, lemme a turn!"

Aemond gasped behind you, stalling his hips into the meat of your bum while letting his cock pump you full of his seed. He recovered much quicker than you, kissing your temple as he unsheathed himself from your velvet warmth to stand, tuck himself away, and stride up to the man still masturbating to the sight of your swollen, dripping cunt.

"Woah - hang on - wait, wait, wait!" The man gasped as Aemond stabbed him non-fatally in the ribs.

"Go - before I decide I need your life for even looking at her," he sneered, shoving the man away while yanking his dagger free. A splatter of blood echoed in-between your heaving breaths.

When he turned back, he smirked at the sight of you; fucked-out and unable to find your feet, limp on the dirt-riddled cobblestone. "You didn't have to do that," you told him softly when he neared you to adjust what was left of the tatters of your clothes.

"I did," he smirked. "C'mere, up yah get. Think my wife's earned a hot bath, don't you?"

"Will you join me?" You asked, letting him lift you bridal style. The cloak was long enough that when he picked you up, it covered your cum-soaked hole in his arms.

"I can't resist you, pet," he frowned, "we wouldn't be doin' much cleaning, hey?"

"So?" You smirked, arms tight around his neck. "I want to make you a Daddy, Aemond, best we... Do our due diligence, yes?"

"You make a fair point, Princess," he smirked. "If you can handle it, I'll fuck you the rest of the night, yes?"

"I'm an orgasm behind," you reminded softly as he chose a lesser-used secret entrance into the Red Keep.

"Hm, yes, I seem to owe you one," he smirked in agreement. "Better stay awake, then."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond hotd #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader

[beachylupin]

American Woman || Remus Lupin x American!Fem!Reader

jesus christ. i'm so sorry that it's taken me almost a month to update this story. i think i got very overwhelmed with posting all of it, and the whole entire thing just so happens to be like... 10k words and i frankly don't have time to go through and edit all of that right now. good for more parts, right? also SLOW BURN? please tell me that one of you picks up on it. pls. i wish i could promise that the next part won't be so long away, but i genuinely can't promise anything </3 as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated <3 part 1 here, mb here word count: 3.4k warnings: this isn't necessarily happy, kind of stressful, a wee graphic (?), maybe like two swear words, quickly edited, i'm sorry

The Eldritch Manor had one bedroom with a double bed in the center of it and two dressers. Remus, who had already claimed one of the dressers, had given the bed to you since you were the “guest” in the safe house, but you had every intention of switching with him after his change in a week.

All the things the change did to a body was devastating, and you knew the small leather sofa wasn’t going to do any good for him or his already aching limbs.

Remus wasn’t young for his age. He was turning nineteen in a few months, but his body aged quicker due to the trauma it was put through every month, making his body at least thirty-five. He had a cane propped up against the wall near the front door that he hadn’t used yet, multiple first aid kits stacked under the bathroom sink, and cabinets full of prescription grade no-maj pain-killers, given to him out of love by his no-maj born friend.

He knew his body was much older than yours, and yet, he crammed himself onto the tiny, two-seater sofa in front of the fireplace the first night happily, telling you to sleep well.

You woke in the chilly bedroom and dressed casually: jeans and a thick, navy blue knit sweater. You paired it with wool socks, happy you had thought ahead and brought warm clothes. 

The Manor was drafty, as you learned last night when you nearly froze yourself to sleep once you shut the bedroom door.

You poked your head out of the bedroom, seeing Remus still asleep on the couch, an open book laying on the ground next to him. His scarred face this peaceful was a comforting sight. Your heart clenched as he shifted, knowing this would most likely be his last good sleep for a week and a half, the moon getting fuller and fuller every night.

Remus looked so young; much younger than he had looked last night in the light of the fire. His lanky legs were curled up under him, sure to crack when he woke up and stretched. His cheek was squished against the arm, soft puffs of air blowing through his lips.

It had been a late night discussing both of your lives, mugs of tea warming your hands as you sat in the recliner across from Remus on the couch.

Remus had grown up in Wales under the protective shadow of his mother and father, Lyall and Hope. Hope was a muggle homemaker, and Lyall worked for the Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Since this department was so broad, it was very mismanaged, and the werewolf registry had gone unnoticed for a long time.

Fenrir Greyback was brought in for questioning after two muggle children were killed, their bodies showing signs of a werewolf attack. Greyback wasn’t registered, but Lyall recognized all the signs he showed, claiming that he was, indeed, a werewolf.

“Soulless!” Lyall had yelled during that hearing. “Evil, wretched creatures! They deserve nothing but suffering and death!”

He was then thrown from the hearing, ultimately sealing his son’s fate as Greyback was released that same day.

Greyback broke and entered into their home, turning Remus shortly before his fifth birthday, changing Lyall’s views on lycanthropy forever.

The Lupin’s became nomads, moving from small village to small village, trying to contain their child’s behavior by keeping him as a recluse. He had a loving home, but had never known friends before Hogwarts.

You, on the other hand, grew up in New York, in a small town near Lake Placid. Your upbringing was fairly normal. Your muggle father worked as a carpenter, whereas your mom worked for the Wizarding Resources Department for the Magical Congress of the United States in New York City. She was gone from the time you woke up until shortly after you went to bed most days.

Because of that, it was mainly you and your father, who treated you like you were made of solid gold. He was a fantastic chef, an amazing storyteller, and the reason why you were able to be independent in your young adult life, giving you the courage to stand on your own two feet.

Since your town was surrounded by woods, it was unsafe to go out at night in fear that the creatures of the forest would take you away.

You were nine when the howling you often heard far out in the forest came closer. They were outside in the streets of your town. In the homes of your neighbors. 

What was to become of your friends? The girl down the street that invited you to her sixth birthday party? The boy you sat next to in second grade? The woman who handed out full-sized candy bars on Halloween?

Their homes were being ravaged by monsters.

Screams followed the howls, and the two of you did as you were supposed to: you hid under your bed until the streets got quiet again, and your muggle father, only armed with a shotgun, sat by the front door in wait.

Your house, miraculously, was untouched.

When the howls stopped, and the screams turned to cries, you crawled out from under your bed, finding your father horror-struck by the picture window, staring out at the carnage.

You couldn’t help but peek, seeing your neighbor boy, Lukas, writhing on the tar, his mother wailing as she tried to cover his exposed insides. He was your friend. The boy who taught you how to play ball.

How could they? Your little brain screamed. What kind of monster could do that? He was a child!

Your father pulled you away from the window, his eyes wide as he knelt down to look at you.

“Don’t blame the wolves, sweetheart,” he said, his voice grave. “Nobody has ever shown them kindness. They don’t know any better.”

You tiptoed to the kitchen, bringing your small suitcase, to begin brewing your first batch of wolfsbane for him.

You set up on the kitchen table and began carefully brewing the potion. Sure, it was difficult, but you could do it with your eyes closed at this point.

“Wolfsbane, betony, and a drop of dittany,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping it all in a cauldron before adding some water. You let it steep over the stove top, taking a peek back into the living room.

Remus was still asleep, mouth now open as his feet hung up and over the armrest. The blanket had fallen off of him at some point, leaving him in flannel bottoms and a plain, white t-shirt. How was he not freezing?

You checked your watch. You had about a minute before you needed to stir the potion and add bat spleen powder and another drop of dittany. Surely, you could put the blanket back over him.

Or would that be too presumptuous? That’s something a friend would do, right? Or a lover, for that matter. Was Remus even your friend? He could be even though you just met. He gave up the bed for you, and the two of you had spilled your life stories to one another. Surely, that meant something.

You shook your head at the thought, turning back to the burner to continue the potion.

Remus woke up near the end of your process, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched and sat up.

He saw you standing in the doorway of the kitchen, calling out, “You chilly? I can start another fire.”

You glanced over your shoulder, noticing him staring at you from the couch, his hair mused from sleep. Your cheeks started to burn as you looked back at the potion.

“If you want to, sure,” you said, eyes on the potion. “Otherwise, this is almost done, then I can do it.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he got up with a groan, taking a squat near the fireplace.

Your brain screamed as your cheeks continued to burn. Remus was a very handsome guy, but you weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, except maybe bad for his situation.

But he was kind, and you could tell he was the most gentle out of all of his friends you met last night. He seemed to care.

If you were going to feel anything for anyone in England, it was always going to be him.

A blue plume of smoke caught your attention. You pulled the small cauldron off the burner and strained it into a mug.

You turned around, watching Remus light the fire and take a seat on the couch, his brown eyes locking to yours as you entered the room.

You handed him the freshly brewed potion, taking a seat at his feet. “Drink up while it’s still warm,” you said, urging the mug to his lips. “It isn’t as bad when it’s warm.”

Remus’ nose crinkled. “You don’t understand how terrible it tastes.”

“I’ve tried it,” you said. “Just drink it, and I’ll make you some green tea.”

He sighed, throwing you a glare before downing the potion and holding back a gag. He thrusted the mug into your hands, his palms meeting his forehead as he groaned.

“See? Not as bad warm,” you teased, reaching out to pat his knee.

Remus shook his head. “‘S just as bad.”

“‘M sorry,” you cooed. “How do you want your tea?”

“Plain,” he muttered, his palms finally leaving his forehead. “Not green. Earl grey if possible.”

“Fresh out,” you said, having just thrown away the box last night. He groaned.  “Do you want coffee instead?”

“Black?” He asked, perking up.

“I can do that,” you said. “You should get dressed. ‘M assuming we’ll be getting guests soon.”

He nodded and shuffled off into the bedroom while you walked back into the kitchen.

You heard a door open behind your back. Assuming it was Remus who might’ve forgotten something, you didn’t turn around, not wanting to seem like you were checking on him.

“Where’s that lass?” A bassy man shouted from the front door. “That American woman?!”

You almost screamed, peeking out from the kitchen.

The man standing at the door was a marvel. Despite his low and loud voice, he stood stout at just five and a half feet, he looked miniscule compared to the large man that barged in next to him..

Remus poked his head out of the bedroom, looking at you in the kitchen doorway, eyebrows furrowed.

As if he could sense your silent confusion, the short man laughed loudly. “I’m Demolcles Belby! I’m told you’re Bane,” he said then looked at Remus. “You must be Moony then?”

Remus smiled tightly and nodded once at the short man, glancing back at you before disappearing behind the bedroom door again, closing it.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you nervously wiped your hands on your dark jeans as you crossed the small house.

“Hi, Mr. Belby,” you gushed, extending your hand toward him as you introduced yourself. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ah, someone who shares my passion?” He said, his grip tight on your hand. “The pleasure is all mine!”

“They sent you? You’re Bane?!” The other man, who you assumed to be Mr. Moody from his gruff hmph, barked. “You’re just a kid!”

You stood straighter, taking the familiar insult with narrowed eyes. “You must be Mr. Moody? The one who wanted me to disapparate across the ocean?” You asked, extending your hand to him. “I’d like to think that I’m more than just a kid.”

Remus came back into the living room as Moody snubbed your hand. He was dressed in a dark green button up and jeans, staring at your extended hand, eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s much more than a kid, Alastor!” Belby shouted back, taking your hand into his. “She jus’ so happens to be the Congress’s most innovative potioneer! Why, you’re lookin’ at the lass who tried figurin’ out a way to produce wolfsbane potions at mass market value.”

Remus looked between you and the man before wandering into the kitchen for his promised cup of coffee.

“That’s expensive,” Moody scoffed, briefly glancing at Remus leaving before returning his attention to you. “You’d never be able to afford the resources without making it cost thousands of galleons.”

“Well, when you have a greenhouse filled with the most important ingredient, and almost everything else is locally sourced, it becomes a lot less expensive,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips as he grumbled under his breath. “My only issue is preservation. Simply jarred? It spoils during the new moon. Canned? Possible since it won’t spoil, but not ideal… The taste is still there. Pill form? Now-”

“A wolfsbane pill?” Remus piped in, now standing next to Moody, a warm mug in his hands. “That’s genius.”

“I’d like to think it’s possible,” you said, your cheeks turning pink. “I just have to find out a way to turn the potion to powder and-”

“That’s not what you’re here for,” Moody cut you off, crossing his arms.

You shut your mouth, teeth grinding as you tightened your jaw. “I know that,” you quipped, standing straighter.

“All work and no play. Isn’t that, Bane?” Belby chuckled, slapping your back. “We should probably get crackin’, now shouldn’t we?”

You threw him a tight smile, nodding before looking at Remus, who was already staring.

“We-” Moody said, his attention turning to Remus. “-have our own matters to attend to.”

Remus nodded once, clearing his throat. “Right,” he mumbled, glancing back at you. “Good luck.”

You smiled slightly, mumbling, “Thanks, you too.”

That’s how the rest of the week continued. Moody would angrily drop Belby off so that the two of you could continue your work while Remus disappeared with him, wishing you well on his way out the door.

Belby wasn’t horrible to work with. Rather, he was a joy, just a bit too loud for your liking. Sure, he had a lot of interesting stories, and you genuinely learned a lot from him when he wasn’t shouting about his brother’s kid, but when someone shouts around you for eight hours a day, it starts to become grating. 

Especially when trying to figure out a way to turn a liquid to a vapor while exploding at the same time.

You took many bathroom breaks just to get some peace and quiet, staring at yourself in the mirror and asking yourself if you had done the right thing in coming here.

Remus would always come back in the evening, usually having just eaten at the pub with his friends. His spirits seemed to be high every time he reappeared for the night, happy to be home even if you didn’t talk to him very much.

He’d quietly sit on the couch after stoking the fire and fixing himself a drink, his nose in one of the many books strewn along the floor. He’d always place a glass of water next to you as he passed, his scarred hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

You frankly had little time to eat or talk, your forehead in your hands as you stared at the papers in front of you. The now daily migraine thumped against your skull as you read and reread and reread the papers in front of you.

How on Earth were you going to craft a bomb? The whole project felt like a bite that was just too big to chew. You weren’t Oppenheimer.

“Hiya,” Remus cooed as soon as the front door opened on the evening of the full moon, smiling as he saw the back of your head tipped down over your makeshift desk by the fireplace, fingers on your temples. “Alright?”

You lifted your head, glancing over your shoulder to see him toeing off his shoes. “Sure,” you said, looking back at the papers. “How’s it going with you?”

Remus hummed in response, bringing a chair over to sit next to you. “Oh, you know,” he said, peeking over your shoulder with a small, lopsided smile. He smelled like whiskey, sour and sweet. “‘M just dandy.”

You checked your watch, looking at the low sun outside of the window. “Should probably make your potion,” you mumbled, your head in your hands again.

“‘S alright. I’ve got an hour,” he said absently, narrowing his eyes at the paper. “Have anything figured out yet?”

You dropped your hands from your shaking head, pushing yourself away from the desk. “I’m essentially trying to make mustard gas.” You got up, stretching out. “Pretty hard when it needs to be done now.”

“Who gave you that timeline?” Remus hummed, following you into the kitchen.

“Who do you think?” You asked, deadpan.

Remus snorted quietly. “You don’t like him, do you?”

You shot him a look. “Does anyone?”

“He’s not all bad,” he said, sitting at the table near the stove. “Just very… serious. Thinks he’s saving people, but in a way, he kind of is.” You shook your head, feeling his eyes on you as you filled the cauldron. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You asked, trying desperately to ignore the honeyed way he was looking at you from his seat, your heart beginning to feel sticky from it.

Remus shrugged, sitting straighter. “Making me the potion every day… Being here.”

You glanced at him, catching him confidently staring before turning your back on him as you reached for ingredients, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. “Would you be alone otherwise?”

“I haven’t been alone for a transformation since I was fourteen,” he said quietly, finally averting his eyes as you busied yourself with the cauldron.

“Oh?” You asked, your turn to stare at the side of his head now. “Do you go to a pack, or-”

Remus smiled to himself, shaking his head. “James, Sirius, and Peter are animagi.”

“And they’d join you?” You asked, looking back at the boiling pot. “Rather brave-”

“Well, outside of the cage, yeah,” he mumbled, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face again as your eyebrows quirked up in thought. “You’re not allowed downstairs tonight,” he said seriously.

You added the wolfsbane, catching his stern stare. “I’ve had my fair share of being face to face with a wolf before-”

“No,” he cut you off, his gaze hardening. “You’re not coming downstairs, alright? I’ll be fine.”

“Remus-”

“Promise me that you’ll stay upstairs.” His hand was on yours suddenly, squeezing, his eyes pleading.

You looked at your hands, heat burning in your ears. “I’ll stay upstairs,” you mumbled, your response making him squeeze your hand harder.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, dropping your hand.

A lull fell over the two of you as you waited for the potion to finish, checking your watch again. Moonrise was in half an hour, and he had to be downstairs before then. The potion should finish in time, but he should’ve drank it an hour ago for him to be asleep in time of his transition. You added an extra drop of dittany and a bit of wormwood, stirring it again in hopes that it would be fine.

The potion plumed blue smoke, and you strained it, handing him the mug. “Bottoms up.”

He drank it, his nose hardly scrunching before he checked his watch, standing. “Lock the door behind me?”

You nodded reluctantly, tailing him to the basement door. He started his descent to the cage in the cold, brick basement.

“Good luck,” you said from the top of the stairs.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiling tightly. “Sleep well, Bane.”

Locking the basement door was hard, almost as hard as hearing Remus lock himself in the cage, the keys hitting the bottom step with a dull thud as he threw them from the cage.

You hoped the potion would kick in at the right time, rendering the wolf tired enough to just fall asleep before any damage could be done.

You hurried to the bedroom, dragging your blanket and pillow into the living room and trading it for Remus’ things. He’d have no choice but to sleep in the bedroom.

You sat on the couch, your bed for the next week, waiting.

Waiting for a noise. 

A feeling. 

Anything.

A low howl started from the basement, filling the house. Your heart sank. It didn’t kick in in time.

Another howl, this time, it sounded like a wail, rang through, followed by another, and another.

Was he crying? The wolf was crying.

You left Remus to suffer alone in a basement for the first time in five years.

You stood, pacing, as the cries turned to growls. You grabbed the keys and went to the basement door, standing in front of it. He made you promise to stay upstairs.

You couldn’t break that promise, even if he was alone.

You didn’t dare cross him twice.

Your eyes filled with tears as something crashed against the steps, another howl coming from the basement. Sinking against the door, you closed your eyes, your face in your hands.

If you couldn’t even get a potion that you’ve been making for years right for someone who hated what they were, why would you think you could try to help a whole group of ferals who enjoyed it?

Fuck.

taglist: @ttulipwritezz @jasontoddsmentaldisorders @acciotwinz @lilianelena39 @prongsprincessworld @hawkins-2000 @ginseng-green-tea

#remus lupin #part two #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x american!fem!reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic

[virgo-dream]

Some Mornings 🌙

dreamling / fluff / all comfort / gen / 1.1k+ words

A little gift for my friend @softest-punk!!! set in the universe of their amazing a/b/o regency au fic, A Man Of Good Fortune. This has spoilers for that fic!!!! Wrote this really quickly before bed. I hope it’s okay!! No beta but we don’t die we ball 🙏 edit: now also available to read on ao3

Some mornings are easier than others, when one finds themselves in the state Dream is currently in. He remembers how mornings were when he was pregnant with Orpheus; the bedroom always felt colder in the morning than it did at night, partly due to his bed chambers facing away from the afternoon sun, and partly due to the lack of his mate’s presence next to him in bed. The first few months were filled with a sort of dread, creeping up quicker every day that went by. Would all mornings be like this? The fear of knowing the answer was almost as bad as the realisation that he would not be proven wrong.

Things were definitely different now. Dream would usually wake up to the darling shape of Hob silhouetted by the gentle morning sun filtered through the curtains. He’d be kissed, gently, sweetly, every morning. Hob made sure to always wake up before Dream, to be the one to bring him breakfast, to help him through the nausea that would take over his stomach almost every morning. The bigger Dream’s belly got, the more admiration and awe he could see in Hob’s eyes. He found himself worshipped for the same reason he’d been previously discarded, and wasn’t that a blessing?

Some mornings were easier than others, for him. As winter slowly approached their home by the sea, some mornings became harder than most for Hob.

Dream could see it in the way Hob seemed to be hiding a slightly more intense limp than on a usual day. He noticed the tension on his husband’s jaw, the tautness of his shoulders, and how, by Hob’s standards, he seemed less cheerful than what Dream had grown accustomed to. Still, Hob insisted in waking up earlier than Dream, in bringing him breakfast in bed, in holding Dream’s belly to give his back a break; no matter that it would be on the expense of Hob’s poor knee and bad shoulder. Dream noticed the effort, as he noticed every new lovely grey hair and every beautiful line on the corner of his mate’s eyes when he smiled. He’d winced more times than Dream would have liked to, though.

———

That morning, Hob Gadling woke up to the silhouette of his very pregnant husband blocking the sunlight coming in from the window. He blinked his eyes slowly, being made aware, also, of the pain on his knee the moment his body decided to stir.

The sight of Dream’s belly was still a wonder to him. Hob remembered the moment he’d first laid eyes on Dream; he remembered how ethereal and otherworldly he looked. Hob also remembered the hollowness of Dream’s cheeks, his slightly chapped lips and the fragility in his gaze. Now, Dream housed a whole other being inside him, with fuller cheeks tinted rosy pink and eyes filled with newfound confidence. It was magical. It made Hob proud.

“Good morning, dearest.” Dream’s voice sounded like music to Hob’s ears. He watched as Dream leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Instinctively, Hob’s hand reached for his mate’s belly, almost in an effort to make sure Dream was real.

Hob had been trying to say some nicer things, more poetic, to honour Dream’s taste for endearments. He wasn’t sure if he was succeeding, but he was surely trying. “…do my eyes deceive me, or do I witness a solar eclipse?”

Dream raises a brow, and if it weren’t for the fondness in those blue eyes, Hob would have believed him to take offence. “Do you intend to say I am shaped like the moon now?”

“No! well, yes. But also in the poetic sense. There’s a celestial body shielding my eyes from the morning sun—“

Hob’s would have continued in his attempt to compare Dream to the moon, had it not been for the sharp pain travelling from his knee to his spine in his attempt to sit up in bed. Dream quickly comes to his aid, placing a hand on Hob’s upper back, the other clasping at Hob’s hand to help him sit up. “Dove, you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I have noticed your discomfort in the past week, beloved. Not only I, but so has Lucienne. So has Orpheus.” Dream is careful not only in his aiding of Hob, but in the tone he chooses to deliver his words. “Do you intend to teach our son to hide his pain? To refuse care? How do you benefit from it? How do I, or our children?”

Our son. Our children.

Hob wasn’t planning to cry so early that day. He thinks of saying something, but Dream seems to have really thought out what he was about to say. There was a fierceness in the kindness of his tone, a gentleness to his fire.

“—I do not wish to chastise you, only to provide you with that which you’ve been so generous in giving me. I’ve not once felt the need to hide my discomfort from you. I would hope you allow yourself the same liberties.”

“Dove, I—“ Hob squeezes Dream’s hand. He’s unsure of how to deal with the emotions quickly bubbling up in his chest. “I’m your alpha. I’m here to take care of you. I’ve said it, I serve—“

“—at my pleasure, yes. And it will be my pleasure to care for you.”

Hob grins, and he can feel his nose getting stuffy from the tears now streaming down his cheeks. Dream is quick to wipe them away, coming closer to press kisses to Hob’s cheeks and to the tip of his nose. “Allow me this, dearest. There’s nothing that will bring me more joy than to see your pain relieved.”

“God, how I love you. Yes, please. I need it.”

———

Some mornings are easier than others. Dream found that taking care of Hob made even his own discomfort easier to bear. He wondered, as he helped his husband to the bathroom to wash his face, if Hob found the same comfort in taking care of him. He already had his answer, and it filled him with joy as big as his belly had gotten.

There was something else entirely new and fulfilling about helping Hob sit back on the bed, fluffing up his pillows and bringing in a warm blanket to keep his knee away from the cold. Lucienne was incredible help with the things that were more physically taxing, and Orpheus was just as excited to spend the day in bed reading with and to his dads than he would have catching frogs outside by the pond. Hob would sometimes reach for Dream’s belly, rubbing it gently and making circles with the tip of his fingers. Dream was glad to be able to offer comfort, no matter how small. He was falling in love again, as he surely would in the next morning, and every morning after.

Some mornings were easier than others. That morning, Dream would cherish forever.

#dreamling week #dreamling week 2023 #dreamling fic #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #dreamling #hob gadling #fluff #no hurt all comfort #this is for you soft!!!

[disneyprincemuke]

vettel reincarnate * a day in the life

<- main masterlist

chronologically arranged

gone girl

long story short

it's just platonic

orange pulp

passing the phone (rookie edition)

fake news

the camouflaging cat

history maker

ice man

maybe it's in the name

fuller house

the female rage

#disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke masterlists

[isagrimorie]

I love Star Trek but sometimes they do storylines that even for their time was really terrible. Or done at cross purposes like Voyager’s “Retrospect” it ends up being a terrible “don’t believe the victims” type of storyline.

Lisa Klink, one of the writers of the episode tried to clarify that it was supposed to be about false and implanted memories that were infamous during the ‘90s. About a family accused of doing that and basically ruining their lives.

Unfortunately, Bryan Fuller revealed as noble the goal was, to his shock and horror, the moment Jeri Taylor and the other women in the writer’s room left the men in the room started sharing stories about “punishing bitches”. He was just a new writer back then and couldn’t do anything nor say anything.

TLDR— instead of being a story about implanted false memories it became a “don’t believe the victims” story. (The first mistake, I think was using Seven of Nine for this— if they used as Garret Want proposed, Harry or Tom instead, it would probably play differently. Or maybe even the Doctor).

In DS9, its the fact that Sisko was conceived from Sarah, a woman who was basically possessed by a Prophet and forced to conceive and give birth to Sisko.

The moment Sarah came back to herself she ran away and when Ben’s dad contacted her she supposedly was in an accident before they got to meet again.

I completely forgot this happened until I rewatched again— and I was flabbergasted to find out up to this day there are many who don’t consider it rape and even excuse the Prophets.

(The writers were obviously trying to recreate the Immaculate Conception of Mary with Sisko’s mother. And yet, the 90s version is more horrific.)

Edited to add: What the Prophets did is akin to what the Goa’uld to people they possess, except the only good thing maybe is Sarah was not aware of what’s happening. It’s still terrible waking up months or even a year later married with a child she doesn’t remember having.

But in Stargate SG-1 this was why Goa’uld were considered villains…

And then what happened to Kurn, Worf’s brother— they basically mind wiped him. Instead of trying to convince Kurn to live and find a way back to honor, they just mind wipe him and pretend he was from another House.

And then, a season or two later, Worf is adopted into another House and restored honor. The very thing that Kurn yearned for, but Kurn would never have that because they wiped his mind.

I’m sure there are more egregious examples but those are the ones that come to mind.

I just wanted to write it down because it’s been on my mind lately. Star Trek has some of the best and high minded concepts, and a hopeful future but as a consequence of being written in their time or by people in our era…

Starfleet also has, in-universe, I think a problem addressing mental health of their traumatized people.

#star trek

[gwilymz]

filthy f*cking rich -- part one

hey! im back to writing; this is a new fandom im writing for, so im nervous! be gentle with me!  i hope you enjoy and i hope some succession fans find this! this is a multi-part series and im not sure how many parts i plan to write, but i realized that im far too detailed as it is, so i had to break it up nonetheless. i also apologize for any errors; i admit i get lazy when it comes to the editing stage!!

Synopsis: You are out at an elite club in NYC and meet a handsome stranger. Smitten by each other, your flirting escalates and important details are left unsaid. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Lead up to smut, Drug usage (by you and Kendall), Drinking

“Good fucking god, Y/N,” your friend, Amelia exclaimed, as you forked out another fifty to pay for drinks. It was payday, and to say the family you babysitted for was rich would be the understatement of the fucking century. “What does that family do for a living?” She asked, downing the last of her mojito. At 20 dollars a pop, she was savoring every last drop, not that she was paying for any of it. 

“All I know is the mom of the kids is divorced to a very wealthy, very guilty businessman. Apparently he makes a fortune, he fucked up the marriage, and he just pays for them to live lavishly. Rava still has a job though, a good one too. Basically, they’re really fucking well off.” You answered, shoving some bills into a poorly-filled tip jar. 

“Well good god” She answered, stirring her fresh mojito, not even hearing the clinking of the ice against the frosted glass over the steady house music blasting through her veins, along with the minty rum. “If they need a back up sittr, I’d be happy to work for even half of that. They can put me on retainer.”

You grinned. “It’s a good gig, for sure.” You mouthed a slurred Thank You to the bartender, an attractive man in his mid-twenties, with full lips, and even fuller biceps. His face was rugged looking, peppered with stubble, and he smelled of cleanliness, of musky aftershave and the remnants of sweat, the evidence of which was glistening over his smooth forehead.

“He was hot.” Your other friend, Libby, commented. “I’m self-conscious just being here. The elite scene in New York is just so intimidating.”

You nodded, gulping down a moscow mule; it was just a little something to sip on between shots. “I definitely agree. The key is to just pretend you fit in, even if you really don’t.”

Amelia scoffed. “You do fit in though.” She pointed to your purse, a new Yves Saint Laurent bag you had recently saved up for. 

“Not really, and I’ve only worked for Rava for a couple months. Most of this money has gone to rent. Besides, I don’t think you understand just how rich these people are.”

“How rich?” Libby raised her eyebrows, dark brown and perfectly plucked. Her family back home was much more well off than yours, so you were a bit annoyed at her commentary. A pretty brunette from Connecticut, she sported 400 dollar dresses for a casual dinner, and didn’t need to worry about where rent money would come from each month. She still got allowance at 22, a fact which astounded you when you were told. 

You sucked your lips in, shrugging. “I mean, it depends. Shall we get some statistics? I mean, I’m assuming all of these dudes in suits don’t struggle for money. They just look so far removed from the world. An average night out for them is hundreds at dinner, the same at the bar, and five times that on coke.” You gestured to a man sitting in a dimly lit corner, hunched over a handheld mirror. The sleeves to his crisp button up were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, assured forearms. At least 4 rolled up hundred dollar bills were sprawled around the table, and he picked one up, pushing his right nostril in as he bent down to take in the three, fat lines of cocaine expertly striping the mirror. They were long, a clean white. 

You didn’t realize how intently you were staring at him until he looked up, eyelids hooded, his hazel irises sleepy, drunk looking, confused and secure all at the same time. He looked as if he was the most comfortable in that state of in between, of knowing exactly what he wanted and what he was doing, but also of the looming terror of not knowing what the fuck would come next. Would he crash? Would he have a sustained high, or would it fizzle out, like it did with the shitty coke, the stuff he got when he put Greg in charge of the drugs? 

He smirked at you, and you saw how his pupils grew into black saucers, swallowing the hues of golden brown you could barely make out with the intensity of the purple lights glimmering above him. He glanced down at the tiny baggie of coke, half spilled on the mirror, and tapped his nostril twice, shrugging. His strung out way of asking if you wanted a line or two. 

“This is what I mean,” You looked back at your friends, gesturing with your head back at the man in front of you, tucked away in his own little version of heaven,  gripping the ground with the soles of his tough leather shoes but simultaneously high, high above everyone else, in his own world, where everything was fuzzy and intense and he always got whatever he wanted because he was always the richest in the room. And now he had money and untethered confidence, the best company a man could ask for. 

“What is what you mean?” Amelia looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I bet you if I asked this man how rich he was, his answer would shock you.” You answered, clutching your bag as you made your way over to him. 

“You can’t ask him that!” Amelia semi-whispered in your ear, looking around as she sat across from him. 

“Ask who what?” The man questioned, cutting another line with a heavy looking credit card. 

You wouldn’t usually be as forward, but the four drinks in your system brought a newfound confidence along with the semi-slurred speech and flushed cheeks. “You’re rich, aren’t you? Like how loaded would you say you are?”

He pretended to ponder. “I guess, imagine someone who is filthy fucking rich. Like beyond what you could comprehend.” He smirked. His voice was firm but silky, his lips pillowy and red, bitten from his high.

You sat down directly next to him, drawn in by his half-smile, how he carried himself, how he was commanding but oddly off-putting all at the same time. He just looked like trouble, like a scandal, but it made you all the more intrigued. 

“And that’s how rich you are?” You asked. 

He raised his eyebrows. “No, a lot fucking richer than that,.” He bit his bottom lip, gesturing towards you with his rolled up hundred. 

“Cocky, much?” Libby scoffed. 

“She asked,” He shrugged, taking the line for himself instead of waiting for your prolonged response. You didn’t love the idea of coke, but he looked fucking hot doing it and you couldn’t believe you found yourself thinking that. He sniffled, wiping the excess powder from around his nose. The remnants of a line peppered the corner of the mirror, and he gathered it with his index finger. “You know, if you’re afraid to snort, you can rub some on your gums. Less scary that way.”

You looked up at him, pondering what to do next. You had never done coke before, but here was an upscale club in New York, a sunken-in green couch, and a sexy, rich guy with a lopsided smile, basically offering up his finger for you to suck on for a free high. Maybe it was against your better judgement, but you grabbed his wrist, pulling his finger to your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, his pupils becoming impossibly larger as he swiped the pad of his finger across your velvety gums. 

He smiled, moving his other hand to your knee. The finger that was just in your mouth gathered a small amount of coke on the moistened pad, finding its way to his own mouth for a quick swipe along his gums.  Your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your upper thigh. He pretended not to notice, a newer, fresher high pouring from his nose into his head and seeping through the rest of his body as he looked at yours, as inconspicuous as possible. 

The high hit you slower than you had expected; your tongue tingled as you watched his lips form into a curious smirk, deepening the creases by the corners of his mouth, where slightly greyed stubble was peppered. You wouldn’t usually allow a random, strung out man touch above your knee at a crowded club, but something about this man was making you erratic, and excessively planted in the firm ground of the present, when your head usually floated more towards the future.

You had honestly forgotten your friends were still here, watching you and the nameless, filthy rich man eye fuck each other as the vibration of the bass seemingly pushed you even closer together.

“I liked that,” He whispered in your ear, moving his hand to grip the soft skin of your inner thigh, still low enough to be acceptable, but flirting along the line of inappropriate, sexual. 

“Liked what?” You feigned innocence, flashing him a cute smile. 

He rolled his eyes, his breath hot against your cheek as his thumb rubbed circles on your thigh. “My finger in your mouth. Did you like the coke?”

He was as quick to mention it as he was to brush the topic to the back of the room, where your friends had roamed off to, still watching you from afar, awaiting a look for help you felt you wouldn’t need to give them. 

“I’m indifferent about it. Never have done it before, and definitely wasn’t planning on doing it tonight either.” You smiled down at your lap, suddenly aware of his stare, its effects burning your cheeks, your hands, in between your legs. He smelled rich and he had that greedy entitlement seeping from his pores, something which usually would have been strongly off putting, but at that moment made you certain that this was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“I didn’t mean to peer pressure.” He said, flatly. His thumb and index finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt a sweet looking girl such as yourself.” He gave a closed-mouth smile, his thumb swiping against your lower lip, still tingling. 

“I don’t mind. It was my choice.” You shrugged, your foot beginning to tap against the wooden floor which was littered with a sticky gunk. 

“Atta girl,” He sighed, squeezing your leg, pulling you even closer, bordering on his lap. His pants were molded perfectly to his body, hugging his thighs and stopping right at his ankles. His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, a tight black number you had bought ages ago in your hometown. “This suits you.” His tone was blunt, but you could tell he was trying to say the right thing. It was just unclear as to whether he actually cared about your feelings or if he just wanted to fuck you. There was a slim chance it was both. 

“I like the suit.” You pulled on his tie, making his lips near yours; you could smell mint, some tobacco, the faintest tinge of lime. “Looks like you came straight from the office.”

He chuckled. “I’m never out of the fucking office.” He fingered the top button of his shirt, popping it open. “It’s all business, sweetheart.”

“Even this?” You looked up at him through your lashes. “Getting high with me?” You loosened his tie a bit, forgetting you were in a public place, although it felt like it was just you two, breathing each other in, eager to see what would come next.

“Well this is a break. Well deserved.” His hand inched further up your thigh, and you welcomed it, looking around for a quick escape, somewhere a little more quiet. 

“What did you do to deserve this?” You teased, pushing his hand further up your thigh. He groaned lowly, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s a good fucking question, because I do nothing but fuck up.” He swiped his thumb over your clothed clit, feeling how wet you were, how ready. “Jesus,” He whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where exactly are we going?” You asked, fiddling with a button on his shirt, opting to pop it open because you were already this far with him. 

“My car, my penthouse, fucking anywhere.” He pulled his hand away from your core, pulling his tie looser in the process. “It’s hot in here. Loud. And I want you.”

Throwing back the rest of your drink, you grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the couch, eager to make his–and your own–wish come true. He didn’t bother to gather the four, rolled up hundreds, or the rest of his drugs, but maybe, you thought, they weren’t his to begin with. You often forgot how in the minds of the elite, everything was theirs, nothing was off limits, and everyone and everything could be bought. “So where will you have me?” 

He pondered, or more likely, pretended to. “My penthouse, of course. If I am to choose. It’s nothing special, though.” He winked. 

You headed toward the exit at the front, where you had come in, his hand still grasped in your own, warm, inviting, masculine. 

“Other way.” He pushed his other hand against your lower back, turning you around. His lips pressed against your ear. “I wasn’t lying about how fucking rich I am. If we go out that door, we’re the headlines in tomorrow’s tabloids.” And then his hand inched lower, over your ass. As he led you out of a hidden exit, blocked off by caution tape, you wondered if this was a good idea, or a march to your own grave. Leaving a bar, drunk and high with a man whose name you didn’t even know seemed to coincide more with the latter. 

“What was your name?” You asked, opting for at least a false sense of security. It was better than nothing, after all. 

He tore the haphazardly strewn caution tape, his hand still on the small of your back. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. “It’s Kendall.” He conveniently left out the last name; Kendall was sufficient enough, and left out the recognizable aspect, the heavily connoted Roy that either had women throw their drinks in his face or feign interest in him.

It was an interesting name, you thought. Definitely unexpected, but that was like him. You said nothing, not surprised he didn’t ask for your name in return. 

The air from outside was crisp, light. And the wind as fast as the trip to Kendall’s apartment building, one of the only residential buildings you had seen in New York to be aptly called a skyscraper. The tension between you and Kendall was palpable as the driver opened the back door for you. The combination of the brisk breeze and the cramped backseat had made your skirt ride up quite a bit, and Kendall was hard, excited as he thought about what would come next, what he would do to you. He was certain the cocaine had worn off, but he still felt high, and that concerned him, just a little. He felt like he was twenty one again, when independence was new, sexuality to be explored. 

His apartment door was heavy. That’s what Kendall told you as he pushed you up against it, causing it to slam, the cold echo of metal startling you into his arms. He smiled against your mouth, one of his hands finding your throat. His grip was firm, but he didn’t choke you. Instead he just looked at you, your hair tousled and frizzy, cheeks tinged with a feverish blush, your lips even darker. 

Swiping his free thumb over your bottom lip, he pushed it into your mouth, causing you to suck on it instinctively. Your cheeks hollowed, eyes sheepishly meeting his. 

Then, with the commanding, firm tone only a man like him could ever get away with, he said, “Get on your knees, now.”

Part Two

#kendall roy #kendall roy fic #kendall roy fanfic #kendall roy x reader #succession #succession fic #succession fanfic #roman roy #kendall roy smut #roman roy x reader

[she-likesorchids]

Designs On You: Chapter One

City Life, Apple Pie Made Just Right

Pairing: Human AU Lestat de Lioncourt x Louis de Pointe du Lac

Summary: Lestat de Lioncourt leaves France for New Orleans to get away from his life and his demons. He falls in love with the city and buys a townhouse in the Quarter. But, what happens when he also falls in love with the contractor he hired to renovate his house?

Louis de Pointe du Lac is trying to find his way as a business owner after his father dies and leaves him the family contracting company. He takes a job from a French man new to town offering him a disgusting amount of money to renovate his townhouse. He knows he's hurting, but can he fix more than his house?

They both have demons, but can they tame them? Can Lestat really run from what he left behind in France? Can Louis be everything his family needs? Can they fill in the cracks in each other's hearts? We'll see when the paint dries.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: JUMPING INTO THE DEEP END HERE. We're starting from the end and working backwards! That's right! We'll get a happy ending, but how do they get it? Well, you'll see.

Big thanks and many smooches to @mythicaltzu for beta reading, editing, and being my cheerleader in DMs!

ENJOY!

Louis and Lestat had just celebrated their first anniversary as a married couple, and life was absolutely blissful. 

Louis had taken on the role of business owner full time, and no longer did any actual contracting work. He had an office, but he worked from home quite a bit, which made Lestat very happy. The house Lestat bought on a whim now felt like a home, and it was about to get fuller. They had started the process of adopting a child, and they had their first meeting with the social worker at the adoption agency today. Both of them dreamed of this life, but they never thought it would be possible until they met each other. They were nervous about becoming parents, but they were both buzzing with excitement. 

Lestat came downstairs freshly showered and dressed to find Louis sitting at the kitchen island drinking a cup of coffee, and a second cup waiting for him. Louis knew just how Lestat took his coffee, and it was those little things that made him fall deeper in love with him every day. Even though Louis was off work for their appointment today, he was still aimlessly scrolling through work emails on his phone. Lestat could feel the nerves radiating from him, and even though he was just as nervous, he knew he had to comfort Louis. 

He took a seat at the island next to Louis, took his hands in his, and quietly asked, “Penny for your thoughts, mon cher?” 

Louis turned to face his husband, and let out a long sigh before answering, “M’just nervous. Are we really ready for this?” 

“Oh, my beautiful Louis. I’m nervous too. We may not be ready for this, but I want to do it with you. Just think, mon cher, a beautiful little child to fill our home with joy and laughter. Doesn’t that sound lovely?

“It does. But there’s also sleep deprivation, dirty diapers, spit up, and all that.” 

Lestat barked out a laugh, which made Louis chuckle as well. He cupped Louis’s cheek with his hand and smiled, “I know, I know. But there’s no one I’d rather suffer through a newborn with than you.” 

Louis smiled and stood up from his seat at the kitchen island and wrapped his arms around Lestat’s neck. Lestat put his hands on Louis’s hips and pulled him closer so he could share a sweet kiss with him. Once they broke apart, Louis leaned down to rest his cheek against Lestat’s head, and Lestat hugged him tighter. They stayed in the embrace for a moment before Louis finally pulled away to say, “Well, we better get going. Don’t want to be late, do we?” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

The two of them smiled brightly at each other before walking through the door of the adoption agency hand in hand. They checked in with the receptionist and before they could even take a seat, the social worker that had been working with them was coming out of her office to fetch them. Her name was Julia, and she was a very smiley young woman with her hair up in a messy bun, and comically large framed red eyeglasses. They had met briefly to drop off paperwork and they had spoken to her several times on the phone, but today was the day they were actually going to get the process in motion. 

Holy shit, they were going to be bringing a baby home soon. Hopefully, anyway. 

“Lestat! Louis! So wonderful to see you both,” she sing-songed as she shook their hands. “Well, if you’ll both just come with me to my office, we’ll get this show on the road! Follow me.” 

She led them into her small office, which was decorated with lots of band posters, pastel stuffed animals, and various vinyl figurines of superheroes. They took a seat in the chairs in front of her desk, and Lestat grabbed Louis’s hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb to ease his husband’s nerves. This was really happening, and they were both a mess of emotions. 

“So, all of your paperwork looks great! We should be able to get this filed with the courts no problem and complete your family! How are y’all feeling about it?” 

Lestat and Louis glanced at each other before Lestat finally spoke. “Well, Julia, we’re incredibly nervous, but we’re both very excited. Both of us have dreamed of having a family, and we just want to thank you for helping us realize this dream.”

Julia laughed and blushed. “Oh I’m just doing my job! So, the next step is to find a baby! I realize this is a bit weird, going through prospects, but it is part of the process. Now, do the two of you have any-”

She was interrupted by a soft knock on her doorframe, and the three of them looked up to see another young woman holding a manila envelope in her hand. 

“So sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But, I have that paperwork on Baby Edwards at Oschner’s NICU. Her parents signed over all their parental rights, so she is officially in our care now.” 

Julia motioned for her to step into her office and she took the envelope from her as she thanked her. Lestat swallowed a lump in his throat at the thought of this tiny premature baby being abandoned by her parents. Louis could tell his husband was getting emotional, and he knew he wanted to know more about the baby in the envelope, so he gently squeezed his hand and gave him a nod to ask Julia about her. 

“What about baby Edwards? We’d like to know more about her,” he said as his voice cracked. 

“Oh, she’s new to us, and the world for that matter. She’s only 4 days old, but she was born at 30 weeks, so she’s currently in the neonatal intensive care unit at Oschner. Her parents hated to give her up, but they just didn’t have the financial resources available to take care of a premature baby, so they decided to give her up for adoption. I’ll let you look at some photos of her, but I must warn you: she’s on oxygen and she has a few tubes sticking out of her, but she’s doing great.” 

Julia handed Lestat the photos, and Louis scooted his chair closer so that he could get a closer look at them. Lestat’s breath hitched at the sight of this tiny baby that was connected to several lines and wires like Julia said, but at the same time, she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. His eyes started to well with tears, and Louis put his arm around him to hug him close as they both gazed at the photos of the tiny baby girl. They exchanged another glance, and they wordlessly decided that she was going to be their daughter. 

“Can we meet her?” Louis asked Julia as he continued to comfort his emotional husband. 

“Well, they are very strict about visitors in the NICU because the babies are so delicate, but I’ll make some phone calls and see what we can set up. I’m assuming this means you’re interested in adopting her?”

Lestat handed the photos back to her and wiped his eyes. “Yes, we would love to adopt her. I can’t believe someone would just abandon such a tiny helpless baby.” 

“It is hard to imagine that, but we really try not to judge here. They loved her enough to make sure she would be taken care of, so they made the very difficult choice to put her up for adoption.” 

“And we can take her home and love her, mon cher,” Louis interjected. 

Lestat gave him a watery smile, and squeezed his hand. Louis always knew just what to say to make him feel better. He wiped his eyes once again and told Julia, “You’re right, I suppose. So, when can we meet her?” 

—----------------------------------------------------

After three agonizing days of waiting, Lestat and Louis were finally in the NICU with Julia to meet their future daughter. A nurse guided them through washing their hands thoroughly before she led them to the incubator where the baby lay. Even though they had seen photos of her at the adoption agency, the mere sight of her before their very eyes took their breath away. Lestat gripped Louis by his waist as they inched closer toward her, fearing his knees might give out. 

“Oh, mon dieu. She’s even more precious than in the pictures,” he whispered. He bent down until he was eye level with her in the incubator, then turned to ask the nurse with tears in his eyes, “Can I touch her?” 

The nurse smiled as she replied, “You can, but be very careful not to jostle any of her lines.”

She opened the small door to the incubator and motioned to Lestat to come closer. He slowly put his hand inside and stroked her fuzzy little head with his fingertips. He was surprised by how soft her hair was, and she seemed to lean into his touch, which made the tears finally fall from his eyes. Louis bent down to join him and he whispered, “Hey baby girl. You wanna come home with us?” 

They stood there for several moments, taking turns gently stroking her hair or holding her tiny little hands until she started squirming and whimpering, which upset Lestat because she was clearly uncomfortable. The nurse came over to assure them that she was fine, but then caught them off guard by asking if they wanted to hold her. Both of them nodded vigorously, and the nurse rolled over a recliner for them to sit in so they could hold their baby. Louis let Lestat go first, and he was overcome with emotion yet again at being moments away from holding his daughter. 

“Unbutton your shirt,” the nurse told him. 

Lestat’s face quickly turned from amazed to confused. “What? Why?” he asked. 

“Skin to skin, or ‘kangaroo care’. It’s great for all babies, but especially premature ones. It promotes bonding, helps regulate their body temperature, and other things babies need. She’s also never been held, so you’ll be the first.” 

He felt like he might cry again, but he did as the nurse asked and unbuttoned his shirt to expose his chest. Louis couldn’t help but admire his husband’s pristine form as the nurse situated the baby on his bare chest and covered them with a blanket. She snuggled into his chest as he gently rocked her, and Lestat felt an overwhelming rush of love for this tiny baby in his arms. He made a silent promise to her, and to himself, that as long as he was around, she would know nothing but comfort, safety, and love. Louis kneeled down at the side of the chair and placed his hand over Lestat’s on her tiny back, stealing his husband’s lips for a chaste, loving kiss. 

Once they both broke the kiss, they gazed down at the now sleeping baby and knew their family was complete. 

“Claudia. Her name is Claudia,” Lestat whispered as he traced her cheek with his finger.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Louis, mon cher, what are you doing?”

“Just taking a video of you doing the ‘hot new dad walk’. I wanna remember this forever, “ Louis replied as he walked behind him, recording him with his phone.

“Your daddy is incorrigible, my darling,” Lestat laughed as he walked down the hallway to the hospital exit, baby Claudia in tow, fast asleep in her carrier. 

All of the paperwork had been finalized, and she was officially theirs. More importantly, she was finally well enough for them to take her home. After weeks of visiting her in the NICU every day, she was finally breathing on her own, they were able to feed her with a bottle, and thanks to the nurses, they were comfortable with taking care of a newborn baby on their own. They got her safely buckled into the backseat of their shiny new SUV, and Louis sat in the backseat with her while Lestat drove them home. He didn’t care that people behind him were honking at him for going under the speed limit, he was going to get his precious cargo home safely, everyone else on the roads be damned. 

Once they were parked in the driveway of their townhouse, Louis carefully unbuckled her from the carrier and she fussed in protest of being woken up from her nap. Lestat couldn’t help but smile as he got her bags out of the car and watched Louis try to soothe their cranky baby girl. Their baby girl. He couldn’t believe he had a family of his own to love and care for.

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Louis crooned as she continued to fuss. 

“We’re home, ma cherie. Would you like to see your new home? You even have a room of your very own,” Lestat whispered to her before kissing her head. 

Louis gave Claudia the grand tour of the townhouse, starting with the courtyard in front, then continuing with the downstairs portion of their home. Lestat took the bags upstairs to put away her things from the hospital in her nursery, and he was taken aback at how beautiful it was. After they first met Claudia and decided to adopt her, Louis had spent quite a bit of time sequestered in the spare bedroom they decided would be her nursery, and Lestat was worried that he was having second thoughts about the adoption. A week later, he was pleasantly surprised when Louis showed him the new room with hand painted Azaleas and Magnolias on the wall, and the most beautiful baby furniture he had ever seen. He remembered breaking down in tears at the thought that this is where his daughter would grow up, in this gorgeous room her daddy designed just for her. 

He was soon pulled from his thoughts by Louis walking through the door, Claudia held tenderly in his arms as he told her, “And this your room, I hope you like it. I did this just for you.” 

Lestat crossed the room and took Claudia from Louis’s arms and propped her up against his shoulder so she could see the room. “Yes, your daddy made this beautiful room just for you ma cherie. He loves to make things beautiful. He made my life beautiful.” 

Louis had tears in his eyes as he gazed at the two loves of his life, his beautiful husband and his precious daughter. He came behind Lestat to wrap one arm around his waist, and the other around his arm holding Claudia. Here was his everything, his whole life, right here in his arms. He stole a quick kiss from Lestat as they stood there together holding Claudia, who was growing sleepy. They both laughed softly as she let out a yawn and buried her tiny face in the crook of his neck, and Lestat pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there a moment to take in her sweet baby smell. 

“A nap sounds like a great idea, don’t you think, mon cher,” Lestat asked Louis. 

“Amazing idea. Let’s get all the sleep we can before the real fun starts.” 

#mandy writes #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire chronicles #iwtv fanfiction #tvc fanfiction #loustat #louis x lestat

[ahockeywrites]

Not Worth Waiting

Paring: Anthony bridgerton x fem!farmer’s daughter!reader

prev - next

Warnings: typical period sexism and misogyny Word Count: 991

Synopsis: Miss Y/N Beresford is new to the city and unsure of the ways to act around other families. Her journey takes her from the farmlands of Lincolnshire, to the Royal Palace, to a church where she is to be wed, in a short season.

In this edition, Miss Beresford is greeted by a larger than expected number of potential suitors and one suitor seems to be unlike the others.

The line of potential suitors waiting to meet you and offer their hand in marriage to you almost reached the main doors to the house owned by your aunt and uncle. It was the fourth day in succession that this had occurred. Your mother was chaperoning you for every visit and to each suitor it seemed as if she was concentrating profusely on her needlework but you could tell that she was listening to every word that came out of each man’s mouth.

The Viscount Bridgerton thought he would be able to waltz his way past all the other suitors, however that was not the case. He could spot the Marquess Brackley along with Lord Whestly but the line curved around so the front could not be seen. He knew that arriving on the first day you were meeting suitors would not have been a smart idea, however he had expected the lines to have subsided by the fourth.

Anthony noticed Lady Fuller holding multiple trays of tea, sandwiches and sweet treats and had an idea of how to see you. “Lady Fuller,” he exclaimed, “your hands do seem to be full. May I help you by carrying a tray?”

“Oh Viscount Bridgerton,” she replied, “you are too kind.” Lady Fuller offered Anthony the tray containing a freshly brewed pot of tea, sugar, and milk. “You ought to know that Lady Beresford will take kindly on a man assisting a lady in this manner.” Lady Fuller added, simply to add fuel to a fire.

Oh how he wanted to sigh, but standing next to him was a respectable lady from a respectable family, so all he could do was thank her. If it was his own mother, he would simply have told her his intention for marriage once more. Not love. But then, he was taking his mothers advice to call on Miss Beresford, so who was he to judge.

Anthony passed the other suitors with a small smile on his face, thinking about how many of these men would try and ask for your hand and fail. Spending time with you would be essential if he was to keep his mama happy, but only as friends.

The Viscount stood to the side before opening the door to the drawing room, allowing Lady Fuller to enter.

“Oh Lady Beresford,” Lady Fuller began, “Viscount Bridgerton was so kind indeed to offer to carry some of the refreshments for all of our guests this fine afternoon.” Lady Fuller gestured for Anthony to place the tray down on the table containing half completed needlework and a pack of cards.

“Lady Fuller,” Anthony spoke, “it was my pleasure to assist you in providing refreshments in your beautiful home. I am sure my brother, Benedict, would love to discuss some of the paintings in the house with Lord Fuller.”

“Thank you also,” Lady Beresford replied, “I was beginning to feel a little parched but it is nothing a cup of tea cannot help.”

“You are most welcome,” Anthony said before looking around the drawing room, noticing that the walls were painted in a light blue colour with a world map on one. “Ah, a map. I could attempt to point out every place my brother, Colin, has been to. However, I feel I would miss out more that one country,” he laughed.

You heard a laugh reverberate around the drawing room, pulling you away from your conversation with Lord Davies. To your right stood a tall man, talking to your mama and aunt. He was completely unknown to you but also presented an aura that was completely familiar.

“As I was saying Miss Beresford,” Lord Davies continued. You really tried to pay attention to him, you did, however a discussion about the correct type of wood to use on a dining table versus a coffee table really was beyond you.

“Thank you Lord Davies,” if this was your only attempt to move onto the next potential suitor, you knew you had to take it. “This conversation about different types of wood has been delightful, however I feel I will not be able to speak to any more guests if we continue to discuss in this manner.”

“Yes of course Miss Beresford,” Lord Davies had taken up almost 30 minutes of your time and it was nearing midday. You could feel your stomach about to grumble, which you knew was not ladylike at all. Your mother thanked him as he walked out of the drawing room, accepting a gift as she did so and turned to face you.

“Y/N, darling,” your mother spoke with love, “come and retreat for a moment at least. And meet Viscount Bridgerton. He was so kind to assist Lady Fuller with additional refreshments.”

With a small curtsey and bow of your head, you wordlessly greeted the Viscount.

“Miss Beresford,” Anthony seemed startled when you looked back up and was able to take in your sheer beauty. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Viscount,” you replied. It did not matter if you wished to marry a viscount or not, it was essential that you put on a good show for every possible suitor, even though this one did not wait.

“Y/N, dear,” your mother knew exactly what she was doing, “I hear Lord Ferilton is next in the queue and he is a perfectly suitable man for you. Viscount Bridgerton, thank you for your assistance with refreshments. I look forward to seeing you at the ball next week.”

“I also look forward to seeing you once again,” Anthony spoke truthfully. “Maybe Miss Beresford will save me a space on her dance card?” It may have been a silly request, knowing it was likely that your card for the first five balls may have already been full, however he knew it could not harm anyone in asking.

“For you Lord Bridgerton, I imagine I can save one spot.”

~~

Tag list: @mcueveryday

#ahockeywrites #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton story #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #bridgerton writing #bridgerton imagine #netflix imagine

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Headlines and Perspectives - One shot

Dr. Two Brains blood chilled when he saw what was printed on the morning edition of the Fair City Times. Guilt, torment, and anger coursed through his body. How dare the called her that! Becky wasn't anything like that monster! It wasn't her fault that Miss Crimes was making her commit all that violence and bloodshed. Two Brains let out a sigh, releasing his anger as he noticed how his hands were beginning to crumple and tear up the newspaper. "Besides. The only reason she is dealing with all of this is because of me." Dr. Two Brains mumbled in a guilty tone. He knew this headline will only make people's fear of Miss Crimes even worse. He had to finish the cure quickly before it would be too late. Victor frowned as he silently read the newspaper. Unwanted memories were coming back as he gazed over the words and the information about Miss Crimes printed in the article. "So now you see why I need you on this case Agent Cutter." Margaret spoke in a serious tone to the man as they were both seated in her office at The Agency. Victor let out a sigh. He had done cases like this before, but things were different this time. "She is still a child ma'm." Victor responded, his face bearing an slightly anguished expression. Margaret Fuller's gazed at Victor with a sympathetic look despite still bearing a hardened and serious expression. "I know but we can't have her running around and killing innocent lives anymore. For now I want you to find out more information on Miss Crimes such as he origins, powers, and weaknesses. If there is a way to contain her then do it. If not..." Margaret paused. Victor just grimly nodded. She didn't have to finish that command. Victor knew if he couldn't capture Miss Crimes, then he would have to end her life. Darius smirked with intrigue as he sat in his office. The newspaper from one of his associates who was situated in Fair City looked very promising. He then pressed a button on a device with a speaker. "Miss Lears, please bring in the contact information of Dr. Calvin Barriton and Professor Athena Cartwright to my desk immediately." Darius commanded. "Right away Mr. Brewster." A voice responded. Darius smiled wickedly and went back to reading his paper. "It looks like B.E.A.W labs might get a new bioweapon soon, or some scientists might get a chance to test out their weapons on Miss Crimes. Whichever comes first." Darius mused to himself as he drank his coffee. Archie Webber had a fierce and determined expression as he packed his hero gear up. Dr. Arannae was ready and willing to bring this Miss Crimes to justice. She was going to pay for killing his best friend Jenkins and for crushing Joe's heart. The poor man had called Archie and through tears and anguish told him what happened to Dr. James Jenkins. How Jenkins' mangled remains were found in his lab along with destroyed equipment. Joe had also told him about what was printed in today's newspaper concerning Miss Crimes. "That girl's murderous crime spree ends now." Archie growled as he headed out the door with his gear in tow. His pet spider Fluffy safe at his mom's house. Archie didn't want to imagine what would happen if Miss Crimes got her fiendish claws on his sweet boy.

Fair City Times Headline

Miss Crimes: Fair City’s Next Maddrix the Malicious @melodythebunny @erraticeris

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #the strange case of wordgirl and miss crimes #dr two brains #dr archie webber #fluffy #dr james jenkins #joseph joe smith #professor athena cartwright #dr calvin barriton #victor boxleitner #margaret fuller #the agency #B.E.A.W labs #the last superheroes au #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: character death #maddrix the malicious #darius brewster

[debbietheslut2]

A BRIEF RESUME OF MY LIFE SO FAR

A brief resume of my life so far. Born FEB 2000 and brought up in Oxfordshire, have one brother. Dad left home and set up home with a young girl when I was 12 my bro 15, For reasons can't say here, Sent to live with maternal grandparents

At 16 managed to go to university Jewellery/silver smithing, My Nan pulled some strings as should have been 18. Was in a shared house with 4 other girls. Before uni started, I did voluntary work at local community centre, became friendly with a number of older people.

One of the man took me under his wing and I would spend some weekends at his place, now mine, he passed away Oct 2019 and I inherited. He was a lovely kind man, an engineer, who helped me with lots of things, teaching me to weld etc. He was a great lover. Have only good things to say about him. I was very shocked that he left me almost everything. Business's, the house, the parrots.

June 2020, had special permission to get married, Covid restrictions at the time, in the village church. In attendance was me, my husband to be, his mother she acted as best lady and his sister my bridesmaid, they were also our witness's. We had all been living in the one house since LockDown had started in the March, The Vicar was the only other person there.

My husband and I now have twins, who turned One August 2023, Boy and a Girl

Had attempted to post a fuller account before but TPTB red flag me for some reason. So if you would like to know more of an un-edited form, please message me

[uispeccoll]

Guest Post from John Martin Rare Book Room

Hardin Library for the Health Sciences

FOX, JOSEPH (1775-1816). The natural history of the human teeth. Printed in London for J. Cox, 1803. 100 pages. 13 illustrations. 30 cm tall.

Welcome to spring, everyone! As we count down to longer days, more sun, flowers in bloom, and a twitterpated animal kingdom, I naturally want to talk about...teeth. So let's sink our teeth into Joseph Fox's (1775-1816) The natural history of the human teeth (first edition - 1803).

Joseph Fox was a trailblazer in dentistry who made significant contributions to the field during the early 19th century. Born in London in 1775, Fox received his medical training at Guy's Hospital. A student of John Hunter and Henry Cline, Joseph Fox was eventually appointed the first lecturer on dentistry at Guy's Hospital.  He was the first dental surgeon appointed to a hospital position and one of the first medical practitioners to devote themselves completely to the care of teeth.

For those with dental anxiety, you can thank Dr. Fox for stressing the need for regular dentist visits. He argued this was especially important for children as they grew and "shed" their first set of teeth.

Fox cared deeply for his profession and wrote and lectured on the importance of improving the quality and standards of dentistry. He stressed that dentistry must have a scientific foundation as it was a medical field.

Beyond teeth, Fox was a passionate proponent of Edward Jenner and vaccination, even offering up his house as a vaccination location, and helped to found the Jenner Society. He was also involved in educational and abolitionist causes.

From 1799 until his death, Fox lectured on dentistry at Guy's Hospital in London. Based on his lectures, he first published The natural history of the human teeth in 1803 and the companion volume, The history and treatment of the diseases of the teeth, in 1806.

Improving and expanding the work of foundational dental scholars, such as Pierre Fouchard, these were the first works in English to provide instructions for the correction of certain dental irregularities. They also have several detailed and sometimes striking illustrations, including the first to show operative procedures and dental pathologies.

There were many editions, including in other languages, and though much of his theory of oral physiology and pathology was of dubious value, his operative procedures remained in vogue for more than fifty years. Along with the clinical and surgical aspects of the book, Fox also provides his thoughts on the biggest issues in the profession, giving the reader a fuller context of the profession at the time.

The book is bound in blue-painted paper over thin paper boards and rebacked with a thick cloth spine. The book is not only striking for its illustrations but also for the text pages. As can be seen from the image above, the book was printed with slightly larger type and very large margins. Anyone with eyesight as poor as mine is grateful for that.

--Curator Damien Ihrig

#jmrbr #hardin library #libraries #rare books #dentist #dentistry #uiowa #university of iowa

[merakiui]

came across a tiktok screenshot that I felt had immense azul energy so I made a very shitty edit, please enjoy - 🤔anon

(I couldn't submit the pic anonymously so uhhh anon reveal?? hi hello)

THE AZUL ENERGY IT RADIATES… you’re absolutely right. He would definitely do something like this and excuse it as “gathering research based on a life simulation of the future.” The twins log onto his account, create sims of themselves, and try to make as much babies with your sim as possible so that when Azul logs on next he’s greeted to a house much fuller than it initially was.

Also, your edit is very beautiful. <3 also also hello 🤔 anon!!! It’s nice to meet you off anonymous! :D

#twisted chit chat #🤔 anon #dubioussupernova

[horizon-verizon]

Visenya usurped the throne because Aenys was weak and unfit to rule. Visenya would see Aegon as unfit to rule, he’s a lazy, unambitious, self-indulgent, lecherous, and gluttonous alcoholic. And Aemond LITERALLY FAILED HIS FIRST DIPLOMATIC MISSION.

And let’s not forget that Visenya/The Conqueror’s trio advisor was a dark-haired Targaryen bastard and very likely their half-brother, Orys Baratheon, who later founded house Baratheon.

If Visenya was around during the Dance, what she’d do to the Greens would make Castemere look like a joke.

*EDITED POST* 4/15/24

No disagreements. It is just a straight delusion to think otherwise, that she'd congratulate the greens in any way shape or form. I think this is the green stans way of combating the black stan headcanon that Rhaenyra favored and aspired to be like Visenya or recognize that Aemond rides her dragon, and thus wishes to claim/twist more of her to legitimize him...forgetting that she also ushered in Maegor, so what does that make Aemond?

And the greens themselves would not thank Visenya even if she were inclined: she's a woman-warrior who was reputed to have done magic arts, is not their direct ancestor as Rhaenys was (even if she was her sister, it is not through her womb/blood the Targs continued) and, again, MAEGOR--the most hated pre-dragon-loss Targ king.

Why would any of them want to associate anything of themselves with her except to make use of her dragon? Funny.

Still, all of this describes her best intentions and not the fuller picture. It IS true that she usurped Aenys' heir Aegon, and not Aenys AND that she also very likely was willfully blind to Maegor out of love [headcanon post by hamliet] and a desire to have a legacy/grow a lineage with him. She was not perfect & willfully blinded herself, but hardly as evil as some people try to make her out to be.

In my opinion, she clearly came to have regrets about Maegor ("Sons of the Dragon"):

Unlike Maegor, Visenya knew when to be diplomatic but also be effectively threatening AND not overpower those who she needed to collaborate with (how she dealt with the Vale; her partnership with her siblings).

#asoiaf asks to me #aemond targaryen #visenya the conqueror #visenya targaryen #aemond and vhagar #visenya and vhagar #fire and blood characters #visenya's characterization #green stan nonsense #hotd fandom #fandom commentary #fandom critical #green stans #fire and blood #asoiaf

[translatemunson]

His little thing

Chapter 2 of the Eternity with you series - chapter 1 - chapter 3

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Vampire!reader x Steve Harrington

Warnings: +18 SMUT (minors DNI), fem!reader, blood, biting, sub!steve, dom!eddie, kissing, cockwarming, use of alcohol, sexual comments. (let me know if i forgot anything)

Author's notes: Again, huge shout out to @corrodedcorpsess for the help with proofreading and editing! And thank you everyone that read the first part! Also special shout out to @andvys for the support! Hope you like it! Let me know if you want more of our favourite vampires <3 (also reposting this part, sorry for the trouble)

The loud music bothers you just as much as before. You’re still getting used to your improved senses and needs. But the loud music would be a nightmare in a closed and small space like a house party even without the improved hearing.

It was Eddie’s idea. It had been a while since you both went to a party: you were more into bars and small rock concerts, and Eddie would follow you wherever you went. He had invited you to this party a few days before, after you moved together to the small apartment he lived in. You weren’t sure, still not feeling confident you could walk amongst groups of people during a full moon night.

As Eddie explained, new moons are better for turning people — not that he expected you to do it — and full moons are when your instincts are stronger for hunting. You always hunted together — mostly animals in the forest, a few willing humans at a club Eddie took you once a month — because you were still afraid of losing control.

Eddie understands that, but he wants you to enjoy life with him. He had assured you he would be by your side most of the time. Holding your waist with one hand while the other explores the skin underneath your skirt, you suddenly feel reality around you once again.

“Eddie” you whisper as he dangerously rubs his fingers over your panties. 

“Relax, baby.” He is so close to you, in the small room, that you focus on his body rather than on the strangers’ smells and movements. “How are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed.” It was one thing getting used to your coworkers' smell. It was a completely different thing standing in the middle of a room, the scent of hormones mixed with alcohol and drugs all around you. “Can we go outside?”

“You have to get used to it.” He’s right. “But I can give you a break.”

Eddie takes you to the other room, where he finds some space on the couch for him. Unfortunately there’s no space for you. He presses your waist and guides you to straddle him and sit on his lap.

You know he’s only doing it to take a closer look at your body. He was wearing the usual—denim vest over the leather jacket, with a Dio t-shirt under it, black jeans and white sneakers. You decided to try something not usual for you: the black fishnets cover your long legs, disappearing under your black skirt. For the top, you’ve chosen a black corset that pushes your breasts higher and makes them even fuller. Eddie got hard just from seeing the outfit on your side of the closet.

And, as expected, he is hard under you in the middle of the party. You smile, moving your hips back and forth. Everyone else in the room disappears when you’re this close to Eddie. You move your head to the side and something catches your attention.

Eddie notices and follows your eyes, but the thing that sparked your interest is no longer there.

“Why don’t you go and have some fun?” he proposes.

“Who said I’m not having fun, huh?” You catch his lips between your teeth.

“You’re dressed to kill tonight, love.” He pulls your face gently. His fingers slip from your face to your breasts. “We have the eternity to be together, but tonight I want you to find someone and enjoy the moment.”

“Are you sure, Eds?”

“I am. You can come back to me if no one catches your attention. But I want you to try.”

“But, love, it’s full moon tonight” you remember him. “What if I lose control?”

“You won’t. We had a feast last night. One bite won’t kill anyone, and they’ll probably think it’s just a love bite that was way too harsh.” He kisses your collarbone and inhales your scent one more time.

“Don’t wanna leave you alone” you confess.

“I might know a few people here, love. Don’t worry about me. I won’t touch anyone without your permission. And tonight is about you.”

“Ok. Love you, Eds.”

“Love you too, princess.”

You leave his lap and protection and go to the last place you saw the thing, no, the person that got your attention. You wish you had caught his scent, because it would be easier to find him. You go to the kitchen, get yourself a new beer and look around. No, he’s not there. You peek through the glass doors to the yard and you think you see him, but it’s just someone that slightly resembles him.

You go back to the living room and walk around, moving your body on the beat. You catch him dancing with two girls. While they are having fun, you notice the girls are touching each other like they are secret lovers and he is there just to trick people into thinking he dates one of them.

His eyes capture yours, and you can’t hide your smile. You take a step back, and he reacts, walking towards your direction. You turn around, giggling about how stupid this feels, but it’s working. As soon as you enter the kitchen, fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Hey” he says, taking a closer look at you. “Do we know each other?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not from here” you tell him.

“I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.” He loosens his touch and smiles.

“Y/N. Lovely to meet you, Steve.”

“I could say the same.” He takes your right hand and kisses it like a gentleman. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. Besides the hot beer, everything is fine.”

“Well, that’s my bad. I forgot to put more in the freezer earlier.” You take a sip, eyes never leaving Steve’s face. He gets closer and whispers “I could get you something else.”

“Do you have some whisky?”

“I bet we can find some in my father’s office. Follow me.”

Steve uses this as an excuse to put his hand on your waist and keep you close while he guides you. So it’s his party, you realize. His house. A few people say hi to him on your way up to his father’s office, but he’s too focused on getting you what he promised to take any notice.

He unlocks the door and lets you in first. You give him a look while you walk by, taking your time to record his smell. Strong as expensive cologne, mixed with some sweat and candy. You bet his lips taste like beer and mint. 

“It’s somewhere else in these cabinets.” He looks around, opening and closing doors. You sit over the mahogany table, crossing your legs and making your skirt reveal more of your skin. 

When he looks at you, his heart skips a beat. Steve holds a bottle in one hand, and two cups in the other. 

“Oh, Jack Daniel’s. Stunning.” You invite him to get closer.

You take the cups from his hands and hold them closer to your breasts. Steve can’t avoid your skin, and you laugh. He breaks for his imagination and opens the bottle, pouring some for you both. He puts the bottle beside you and you extend him his cup.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, darling” he barely whispers. “Cheers.”

The glass of your cups touch with a clink. Steve takes a small sip, too drunk on your figure to need any alcohol. You drink yours all in one gulp, but intentionally let some of it escape your lips. 

The golden drop follows the line of your skin, mixing with the desire that’s bubbling under your complexion. Steve licks his lips and doesn't ask for permission before doing the same to your skin. His mouth captures the drop as soon as it reaches your chest. You throw your head back and sink your hands into his hair.

Steve uses his hands to spread your legs, and positions himself between them. He cups your ass and brings you closer.

“Fuck” you moan. Your reaction only encourages him to climb your skin with his kisses.

Your blood rushes and your instincts rise. Steve is making you crazy just like Eddie does. He presses you against the front of his jeans and you roll your soaking middle once. He moans, and moves his head to look at you.

You hope you still look as human as possible. When your instincts kick in, you’re aware of how red your eyes glow and how long your fangs can be. But you don’t feel completely lost, and the look in Steve’s eyes doesn’t indicate he’s afraid. All you can smell is the desire in his blood.

“Pretty little thing” he says before taking your lips in a deep kiss.

You envelop his neck with both arms, deepening the searing kiss even more. His tongue invades your mouth and he tastes even better—something like chocolate cookies with mint. You wrap your legs around his middle and let your hips move against the hard outline of his cock beneath his jeans.

When he takes a moment to breathe, you latch your lips to his neck. You pull his hair back to give yourself a little more space, and his hands punish you, gripping your ass tighter. You whisper how hot he is, how strong his hands are against the skin of his neck. You can feel your fangs slowly growing, but you try to not scratch his skin. 

His hands find the hem of your panties, circling your clit over the fabric. The stimulation is enough to make you lose whatever little control you had left as you bite the soft skin over the pulsing vein in his neck.

You hold him to you stronger, aware of how drunk people can feel during the bite. He leans into you, supporting himself with his hands on the table below you, causing you to sink deeper. He’s reacting differently from other people, he’s not afraid. Actually, you think he’s liking it.

His blood is almost perfect. You can’t stop drinking it, taking more and more each second. You won’t kill him but you want to enjoy every second and drop.

“You’re so g-good” he can barely speak. “Eddie’s little thing.”

You freeze at his words, Eddie’s little thing. You remove your lips from his skin and feel the despair taking over. Wait. Does he know Eddie? So that means he…

You move his body away from you and stand on your feet. You leave the room before he can call you. You don’t even bother cleaning your face, all your senses focusing on finding Eddie. You find him sitting on a chair in the yard, slowly pulling the cigarette from his lips.

His eyes glow red when he notices you, dropping the last of his cigarette before using both hands to manhandle you onto his lap. 

“Did you enjoy it?” He asks as he inspects your face carefully.

“Eddie.”

“I asked you a question, sweetie. Did you have fun?” It never crossed your mind that Eddie could get even more perverse after turning you. Even though you weren’t fragile anymore, you were his. And if he asked you a question, you better answer it. Unless you wanted to suffer the consequences later.

“I did. But-”

“Baby, it’s fine. I told you to try it.” 

“I bit him” you admit sheepishly, although he already knows.

“Mmm and you look so hot with someone else’s blood on your lips.” He leans in to taste it, not caring where it came from, but you don’t let him touch it. You knew should’ve washed your face, but it’s too late now.

“Eds.”

“It’s fine. Is he still alive?”

“Y-yes. But he… he said something.”

“What? Should I go back inside and kill him?” He wraps his hands around your neck. When you don’t answer him right away, he gets worried. “Y/N, what did he say to you?”

“He called me your little thing. Eddie’s little thing.”

“Don’t tell me you found another Eddie at this party. Baby, you’re gonna make me jealous.”

“No. He said your little thing.” You hold his shoulders.

Eddie blinks for a few seconds, his mind putting together what you just said and your frazzled state.

“What’s his name, babe? You can describe him to me if he didn’t tell you.”

“His name,” you take a deep breath. “His name is Steve.”

You expect Eddie to change, to get mad at you. You don’t know Steve, but it looks like he knows Eddie, and knows his secret. And he knows about you. But all Eddie does is throw his head back and a bitter laugh cuts the silent night.

“Harrington, you fucker” he says.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do.” Eddie focuses on you again. “It’s ok, I’m not mad at you.”

You tilt your head to the side and watch Eddie.

“Well, I hope you gave Harrington one hell of a bite and he didn’t cream his pants. That boy has been wanting me to bite him for years.”

“And why didn't you do it?”

“Because not everyone falls for his charms.” He smiles, mind probably stuck on a memory you can’t see. “And I was playing a long game with him. But that’s fine, honey, now he knows only one person can get anything from me.”

“And who’s that?”

“You, love. Only you.”

+++

You catch his scent before the doorbell even rings.

You’re laying down on the couch, arms messing with Eddie’s wet curls. He’s on the floor, working on his next DnD campaign. He had offered to watch a movie and cuddle with you, but you liked to watch him write his campaigns more than any movie you had on the shelf.

“I’ll get it.” He stands quickly and walks to the door. 

You lift your body just enough to see what’s happening.

“Eddie. Hi” Steve says. “How are you?”

“Fine. What are you doing here? Do you want some weed? I could’ve delivered it to you.”

“No, no. I don’t want drugs.” You see when Steve peaks over Eddie’s shoulder and he finds you. “Can I talk to you?”

“What do you want, man?”

You stand up and walk to the door. Your legs are barely covered by one of Eddie’s Black Sabbath t-shirts. Your eyes connect to Steve’s and his heartbeat changes. You hug Eddie’s side and smile “Hi, Stevie. Are you ok?”

“No, I’m not.” Steve replies, subconsciously raising his hand to touch your face but Eddie’s hand wraps around his wrist to stop his movements before he can. “Fuck. I need - I need you to do it, again.”

“Sorry, I don’t understand what you need.” You play dumb. Of course you know. “Can you enlighten me?”

“Get inside, Harrington.” Eddie steps aside and you both exchange looks. 

You had asked for his permission to tease Steve but after the party, you never talked about what happened again. Eddie had made sure to fuck you when you got home from the pasty til you were exhausted and practically passed out from pleasure, making sure once you woke up the make out session with Steve would be long gone. Replaced with a mindblowing evening with Eddie instead. 

But you feel now how Steve’s presence makes Eddie's aura different. You just can’t totally put your finger on why. You exchange a look with Eddie silently asking for permission to play with Steve again. 

“He’s pretty when he begs.” Eddie whispers into your ear, meaning yes.

You nod and whisper back “You can walk out if you don’t wanna see it.”

And he smiles and replies “Oh, no, darling. I wanna be with you.” He looks over to Steve.

The boy is walking back and forth in your living room. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are red, probably burning hot. You get him a cup of water and sit on the couch.

“What do you want, Steve?” You feel Eddie’s hands on your shoulders, standing behind the couch. Your middle heats up and you bite your lower lip. 

“You need to bite me again” he murmurs like he’s losing his mind. Maybe he is. That’s the only explanation why he showed up at your door on a thursday night. 

“Should I?” You throw your head back, looking up to Eddie. He smiles back at you and you laugh. 

“She really has you under her spell, Munson.” Steve ignores your presence.

“Jealous, Harrington? You’re the one who said she’s my little thing.”

“She's as addictive as you.” His confession surprises you. If Eddie had never bitten Steve, was he talking about something else?

“Put Steve out of his misery, baby.” Eddie pecks your lips.

“As you wish, Eds.”

You move out of the living room, motioning for both guys to follow you into the bedroom. Eddies sits on the bed, back against the wall, watching you and Steve intently. You pull Steve towards you and use your now sharp nails to rip his shirt. He captures your chin and kisses you.

He knows what you are and he’s not afraid, you realize. He’s in a room with two people capable of killing him at any moment and he seems just fine. He has some balls, you think. And hopefully a huge dick to match.

He grabs you harder by your waist and guides you to the bed. You look at Eddie and you see the outline of his hardening dick pressed against the fabric under his happy trail. His eyes are a timid red. You’ll deal with him later. In less than a second, you’re sitting on Steve’s lap.

Steve takes your t-shirt off and stares at your tits. He doesn’t ask before kissing them — maybe he’s not used to asking for things you assume, always having what he wants. 

His lips make you lose your control faster than expected, your mood shifting to let Steve control you just a little.

When he moves his head from your tits, his hands leave your ass to touch your back. And then you noticed that your wings are exposed. 

“Sorry” you whisper, already rolling your shoulders so you can retract your wings fast.

“No, keep them. They’re perfect.” 

Steve is not afraid of your wings, your fangs or  your persona when you’re getting into your monster side. It’s like he’s had some previous experience with things like you, like Eddie, he must have.

He grazes his fingertips over a small place on your right wing and it hits you with the same intensity as your orgasms. A confident smirk takes over his face at your reaction, making you laugh.

“You’re here so I can bite you, not for you to fuck me. Eddie, could you please hold Stevie still?”

“Sure, ma’am.”

You’re on your feet in no time. Eddie is stronger and just the same height as Steve, using his supernatural advantage to move the poor boy until he’s trapped in his arms, his back flushed against the older boy's chest. You take a moment to admire the men in your bed, the tension rising by the second. Eddie has his fangs out, licking his lips every time he looks at you.

You turn around and strip off the last piece of clothing you wear. You let your wings grow wider and move them around. You crawl into the bed until you’re face to face with Eddie and Steve, sitting in the latter’s lap. Both boys are rendered speechless by your figure.

“You’re so defenseless, pretty boy.” You rip a small cut into Steve’s cheek with your nails. “Why would you do this to yourself?” you ask condescendingly.

Steve goes silent, diverting his gaze in embarrassment. Eddies grips him harder as the smell of his blood floods both of your senses. It’s so addictive, the fresh smell making you shiver.

“She asked you a question, big boy.”

“B-because after you bit me, I’ve just felt like I need it over and over again. So, please, bite me. Suck my life out of me, I don’t care, I would die happy.”

“Your death wish never fades, that’s impressive.” Eddie carefully bites Steve’s ear, without using his fangs. “I could let her kill you, you know,” Eddie’s words cause a shiver to run up Steve’s spine, “but we would both like to play with you, I’d just never fell for your traps before, Harrington.”

The men exchange a look. They had something in the past, you realize. You’re not entirely sure what but you know it’s not a threat to your relationship. Eddie had turned you, not Steve Harrington. But you can see how and why he always gets what he wants: his sharp figure is breathtaking, he wears his hair with pride, his hands are well versed on the art of controlling people’s bodies. And, as you suspected, he has a big and fat cock, you can clearly see the outline threatening to rip open the crotch of his jeans. 

 You grip his chin to keep his head straight as you lick the fresh cut on his cheek to get a taste of him.

“How does he taste?” Eddie asks.

What better answer than letting Eddie find it out? You kiss him, your body pressing against Steve’s. You give Eddie full access to your mouth. And as if feeling you wasn’t tourture enough, you turn Steve’s head, so he can watch you make out with your boyfriend.

“Are you hungry, baby?” Eddie whispers into your lips and you nod. “So am I.”

Steve’s eyes shine and the tent in his pants gets impossibly bigger. You grind your hips against him and the moan he lets out is unholy hot. You move back, keeping his head still, and spread kisses on his neck. Eddie is watching you, drunk on the scent of your arousal and Steve’s blood.

You sink your teeth into Steve in a sweet spot. He melts between you and Eddie with a content sigh. His blood flows stronger and you suck it harder, no drop going to waste.

“Eddie” you hum against Steve’s neck, hoping he knows what you want him to do.

Steve moans a second time when Eddie’s fangs connect to the skin over his shoulder, on the other side of his neck. Your hand shoots up to Eddie's curly hair, pushing him to sink his fangs deeper into Steve. 

Steve’s moans and groans drown out all the other sounds in the room as he loses himself in the pleasure of being fed on by both of you. You can feel his hips bucking up desperately to meet yours, aching to get some friction on his aching cock. You moan into the wounds on Steve's neck as the rough denim catches your clit deliciously. 

Deep down you wish you could leave Steve Harrington dry.

But as soon as Steve moans start to turn into tiny exhausted whimpers, you and Eddie move back from his neck. Steve whines weakly at the loss of contact, hips still lazily grinding into your core. You take pity on the poor boy, quickly undoing the button on his jeans and spitting on your hand before sneaking it inside his boxers. Steve hisses pathetically as your hand wraps around his thick shaft, fingers not even fitting around the girth. 

It only takes a couple of pumps before Steve is spitting onto your hand and his boxers with a faint cry.  It’s only when he’s groaning and softly thrashing his hips from the overstimulation that you finally let him go. 

His white cum drips from your fingers as you take your hand out of his pants. You lick them one by one, the image making Eddie’s eyes change to vivid red.

You leave the bed to retract your wings, getting your shirt and bottoms from the floor and putting them back on. Eddie leaves his place behind Steve carefully and lays the exhausted and barely conscious boy gently on your bed. He grabs you by your hand and brings you back to bed with him.

You kneel and he kisses you, the taste of Steve’s blood on your lips. You deepen the kiss, pulling his hair until there’s no space between your faces and all you smell is Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. It’s impossible to ignore Steve, laying defenseless in your bed, but right now you are too drunk on Eddie.

“He’ll come back” Eddie whispers so Steve wont hear you both, although you’re pretty sure he’s already fallen asleep, “He’s stubborn and doesn't take no for an answer. But he’s endured enough pain in his life.” You look at Eddie’s face as he watches Steve, there's a longing there in his eyes and a deeper meaning to his words that you can’t quite decipher. 

But he misses Steve, that much is clear, which gives you an idea, one you hope Eddie won't be mad at. 

“So are we gonna make this,” you gesture to Steve, “like, a thing?”, you ask timidly. “Unless you don’t want to,” you nervously cover, “which is fine.”

“No, I’m fine with us being together,” he assures you with a grin, “maybe next time I can make him watch while I fuck you, so that he can finally learn who’s in charge.”

“And maybe you can fuck him as well?” You ask while biting your bottom lip. The thought crosses your mind and makes your middle hurt. It’s clear to you that Eddie and Steve were a thing in the past, but you can tell that the flame burned too bright, too hot, too fast. But maybe you could help control it this time.

“Anything you want, my little thing.”

The pet name makes you shiver. It’s hot as fuck when Eddie says it.

“Can we cuddle?” And you tilt your head, indicating that you want Steve as well.

“Sure. Wanna be in the middle?”

“Yes, Eds. Please.”

He moves you around like you’re weightless, laying you on your side, facing Steve, as nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. Gently he explores your body with his fingertips, softly tracing your sides and down to your core. You can feel him smile against you when his fingers dive into your wet pussy. You gasp softly at the intrusion, still sensitive from how aroused Steve’s grinding had made you but you do your best to not wake the poor boy next to you. 

Eddie then moves your leg up a little, giving him enough space to slide his dick inside you.

You moan louder than you expected when his tip slips inside you causing Steve to stir beside you. He opens his eyes just a little, still drowned from the experience, and rolls on his side to snuggle up towards you. His face is close to your chest, hair tickling you as he moves. 

Eddie gets himself deeper and plants a kiss on your shoulder before wishing you good night as Steve buries his face deeper into your chest. For a second, you wish you would never get used to it.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie munson #eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson x reader #kas eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #vampire!eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x vampire reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington x vampire!eddie munson

[fatalism-and-villainy]

One thing I love about Hannibal is that I really like (especially visual) media that - for lack of better terminology - blends "high" and "low" culture.

That's an element present in one of my favourite films, Seven Samurai, which has the mass-audience appeal in its action and fight scenes while also displaying a high level of artistry in its visual composition. It's also one reason I love film noir - most of those films are adapted from pulpy, hardboiled crime stories, but elevate the material through the visuals and cinematography, in ways that often imbue it with a contemplative, existential weight.

Hannibal is similar in being adapted from a book series with some killer turns of phrase in the prose (it's a surprise to me how many great and iconic lines in the show are lifted from the books), but are ultimately pretty basic crime-thriller novels. The show takes the premise and plot points and characters from the novels and applies the sensibility of high art to them. It's in the highly stylized visuals and editing (Fuller's famous "pretentious art house cinema" approach), but also the poetic register of the dialogue, and the fact that the plots unfold according to emotional and aesthetic guidelines, rather than being bound to gritty realism.

And the really brilliant thing is that this thematically aligns perfectly with the actual premise of the show, which is about transforming the gross into the beautiful. The killers on the show deliberately turn the corpses of their victims into art, and the fulcrum of the main relationship is the fact that they both possess the ability to see murder, violence, gore, etc as aesthetically pleasurable. The physical corpses, which on a more conventional crime drama would be disposable, with only the mystery surrounding them important, are central here, because Will's gaze transforms their grisly, fleshy presence into something beautiful and fueled by artistic intent. (The actual crimes are generally of secondary importance at best - the point is the gaze.) The world of the show is so governed by this alternate artistic sensibility that's only understood by a select few, and the moral system is so entirely based on aesthetics, that it bears a lot of relation to camp (part of why not only Will and Hannibal, but also villains like Dolarhyde feel sooo queercoded), but it's far more solemn and self-serious than most camp.

Anyway, I just appreciate the creative vision involved in adapting a series of popular and widely adapted crime novels, but doing it particularly in this way. (And also seeing the Lecter/Graham potential in Red Dragon and deciding to lean waaaay into it.)

#hannibal #hannibal meta #my meta #incapable of not writing paragraphs #also i wonder if john waters has seen hannibal. and what he thinks if so #hannibal talk

[splashtailstar]

Sun and moon imagery vy beloved

(Click for better quality)

[ID: A screenshot edit of Luz and Hunter from the Owl House, taken from the episode Hollow Mind. Hunter smiles and nudges Luz with his elbow. Luz appears to be annoyed. The edit is done in a lineless style. Hunter has freckles across his ears and face. On his right ear is a gold double anchored chain earring that is attached to a stud in the middle of the ear, with a star on the top of the ear and a sun on the bottom.

Luz has fuller lips, a bigger nose, and curlier hair than in canon. She has a bi flag patch on her jacket. Her nails are painted in the colors of the trans flag. She wears a silver moon dangling earring in her left ear. End ID]

This is probably vy favorite edit vi have done. Thanks to @grow-and-decay​ for helping ve with the description!

Some closeups under cut

[ID: Four closeups of the previous image. Image 1 is a closeup of Luz and image 2 is of Hunter. Image zooms in on Luz's patch, nails, and earring. Image 4 zooms in on Hunter's earring. End ID]

#feel free to interpret as platonic or romantic. just don't tag as siblings please #lunter #goldenlight #goldenluz #huntceda #toh #the owl house #owl house #toh edits #toh edit #described #vy stuff #harbor's posts #luz noceda #hunter toh #vy edits