#like what the fuck do you mean the Queen of hearts and the White queen

[etfrin]

⤷❝Mine To Love | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, mentions of caging/locking you up (doesn't do it though), hair pulling, breath play if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), pinv sex, blowjob, male masterbation, cunnilingus, mating press, mentions of Lucy Gray, no spoilers | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow realizing his feelings for you, being fucked up about it and fucks you!

⇢☾A/N: don't romanticize, it's dark romance so y'all are warned! This is set in the same au as The Study (you don't have to read it beforehand but it's recommended)

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > <tag list>

It started slowly, so slow that Snow didn't even realize it. It started with that night in the study after he had you. He didn't touch you again, denying himself of you. You, his wife, a little bird stuck in a cage. The First Lady of Panem was nothing but a doll, a showcase piece for the country.

You played the role well enough, but you weren't a doll at all. You brought life in what was otherwise a stone-cold mannor. The workers cook your favorite, making sure you're the most well-accommodated. Like a Queen. How their shoulders relax and the smile that springs up when they do the tasks that you assigned them. You earned their respect and their loyalty.

You were dangerous yet harmless. It baffled Coriolanus to no end. It started slow. He coincidentally met you in the hallways more and more. After that night, you couldn't make eye contact with him, no longer did you greet him with an awkward hello or a shy smile.

You look down at the floor whenever he passes you by, your body flushing from the mere second of proximity. So obvious and adorable. He loved how easy you were to read, how open you were. Whatever your lips hide, your eyes show. Whatever your soul hides, your body shows.

It started slow. The monthly dinners with the First Lady turned weekly. Every Sunday now he had you sit across him for dinner and he would ask you about your day. Just to be polite, mind you, don't look into it. He would be annoyed by those one-word answers but would never show it. His fingers subtly grasped the glass of wine tighter than he should, his heart pricking his brain into paranoia. ‘What else?’ he wanted to ask, ‘Stop saying it was good. Tell me what made it good.’

Instead of uttering those words, cameras were placed on every inch of the manner with the audio functions so everything is recorded for his and only his view. He watched you walking through the library, your fingertips touching the spines of the books you already read (which was most of them), you didn't even realize new books were added to the collection, all similar to the ones you liked. He watched you stroll the gardens, your face in a frown at the neverending white roses. A red rose and several other flowers were added the next day.

It started slow. He began to talk about his day more and more trying to fill a silence. He started asking for your opinion and oh, how that lighted your eyes up that you were finally doing what you were meant to do. Supporting him not as a doll but as a wife. You begin to talk about your days more, trusting him with your day-to-day activities. You tell him about friends and family, something he wasn't interested in (he has files on every single person you mentioned).

The nights that were dedicated to his needed sleep turned into the witching hours in which he would stroke his cock over the memory of you. His mouth biting into the pillow to stop his groans, hearing them would mean admitting his need for you and he rejected that notion. His cock was oversensitive because he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking into his fist, again and again thinking about you. Not just your pussy but you. Your desperate moans, your lips marking his neck, your slick walls, and everything of you. Your tears, your head on his chest when he had fucked you. Everything.

He wanted to pin you against a wall. He wanted to bend over during dinner. He wanted you on his lap in his study. He wanted to push you to the bed and fuck you until the bed breaks. He wanted you!

The realization made him spill onto his bed sheets for the nth time. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized how deeply you are rooted in him now. He needed to kill you. He can't afford this again. Whatever this is. Obsession? Love? Was there ever a difference? He needed this to end.

‘You don't deserve to be loved,’ he thinks, you were no Lucy Gray after all, you were different. You could never compare to his first and only (not anymore) love. But he had caged you, he had you and knew your every move. The rumors that spread of cheating were seized along with the man who flirted with you. True to your words, you hadn't fallen to the temptations of the Capitol, rejecting their offers politely rather than basking in their attention like before.

‘Good,’ he thought, he had killed everyone who had touched you and it was hard to hide the evidence. “I am so much better than her,” he muttered, “I could do so much better.” He asked himself, ‘Why? After all the promises I made to myself of never repeating the mistake.’

He didn't get a reply but he dreamt of you.

Breakfast had passed, lunch too, he hadn't seen you once today. A quick peek at his monitors showed that you were sleeping in your room. He clenched his jaw, a part of him hating you for sleeping in because it deprived him of seeing you. A part of his heart warmed because your hair was a mess, the shirt you were wearing while sleeping was his, and you looked so darn pretty.

Coriolanus convinced himself that he was going to your room to wake you up. Nobody should sleep this late into the day. It wasn't healthy, and he needed the First Lady to remain healthy. That was all.

He stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet so he didn't alert you. He sits down on the bed, your sleeping figure beside him. Your mouth had dried drool on the corners which made him disgusted but amusement all the same. His hand went to your cheek, he couldn't control the action of his thumb stroking your cheek.

“I should lock you up forever,” he whispered as softly as possible, almost inaudible. “In this room, so no one can see you but me.”

He knew by now his thoughts weren't normal and it would never be. That's him and he had accepted himself. He leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours. He stopped right before he closed the gap. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent before pulling back.

His hand goes to your shoulder, he shakes you. “Wake up, bird,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw you wake up and peer at him with confused eyes. You yawn, and sit up, your eyes wide when you look at him. You rub them with your hand and blink.

“Is there anything wrong, Coryo?” You asked softly, “Anything I can do to help.” “You should shower and eat first,” he said instead, “and next time don't sleep in. I don't like indiscipline.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was finishing a book.” Your eyes flicker to him, “It's nice by the way! I will tell you about it during dinner.” He wanted to hear about it now, he wanted to pull you closer and kiss your lips, he wanted to push you into the mattress and breed you. He wanted to clean you up after and feed you every kind of feed.

He clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of such thoughts. “We'll see,” he said before walking out of the room, accidentally slamming the door. The first sign of Snow losing control.

The second sign of Coriolanus losing control was how his breath hitched when he saw you during dinner. You are wearing yet another one of his shirts (how do you even get your hands on them) and that's it. A white shirt that reached your knees, you had forgone pants and opted for shorts that couldn't even be seen. Your legs were in complete view, the same legs he wanted wrapped around his waist.

He didn't say a single comment even when it was clear you were waiting for one. ‘Were you trying to seduce him?’ he thinks, ‘Or something else.’ He felt paranoid about you wearing his shirt. Did you want him? Want him to bend you over, press your face onto the table and fuck you like you were an animal?

He felt his pants getting tighter from his thoughts, flashes of what he could do to you, what he had done to you. He couldn't focus as you talked during dinner, he made a mental note to watch the cameras later to know the words you had blessed him with.

It hits him like a wave when dinner ends and you come to him with a book. Tabs were spilling out and it was a hardcover of an old classic that he had to read during the academy.

“You once told me that you liked this book, I spent last night annotating it! I did a few finishing touches before dinner…”

That explains your attire, you were busy formatting this gift for him. He took the book from your hand, he wanted to throw it across the room, he wanted to set it on fire. It was now his most precious treasure, more important than Panem itself.

The truth he denied washes over him. Making him take a sharp breath and your eyebrows etch together in concern. He had once a girl dedicate songs for him, now he had a wife dedicating booms for him. ‘It would be a mistake,’ he told himself, ‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past.’

The desires he shoved at the back of his mind sprang forward and he made a decision. The third sign of Coriolanus surrendering to himself was that he had everyone including the guards leave the dining room. Making your eyes widen from the sudden instruction.

“Is there anything wrong-” you begin to ask before Snow interrupts you. “Here is what's going to happen now. You're gonna be on your knees, you'll take my cock in your mouth and you'll make me cum. Then I will take you to our room and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name.”

You blink once, twice just staring into his eyes that revealed nothing before you went closer to him and got down on your knees for him. “Like this?” You asked, breathless, your cheeks flushed. He smirked, “Exactly like this, pet.”

“Now part those pretty lips for me,” he said as he unzipped his pants and set his hard cock free. He lets out a chuckle as he sees you eyeing his cock like a long-lost lover. Guess he wasn't the only one thinking about that time.

You part your mouth wide enough for him as he pushes his cock in slowly. No matter how desperate he was a gentleman for his wife. He knew better than to gag you. He stopped when his cock had completely disappeared, his length engulfed into your wet, hot mouth.

He throws back his head as his dick hits the back of your throat. He relishes the sound of your choking around his length. He lets out his groan, trying his hardest not to cum down your throat so soon. His hand is in your hair, keeping you in place like an obedient pet.

You try your best to take in a deep breath as your tongue swirls around his length as much as possible. You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you knew the sloppier the better. Saliva ran down your cheek as you tried your best to focus on his cock underside, your tongue dragging itself across a pulsing vein that reached his cockhead.

You moan around his length as the taste of pre-cum bursts in your mouth. You close your eyes and try your best, bopping your head up and down. You clenched your fist, trying your best not to gag when his cock gets deeper into your throat.

Meanwhile, Snow was a wreck of a man, the heat of your mouth ruining his capability of having coherent thoughts. You were sucking his soul through his dick it seemed to him. His fingers tangled in your locks, gripping your hair tighter as a way to anchor himself to reality.

His blue eyes dilated to almost black as he looks at you taking his cock so well. Like you were made for it. Made for his cock. Made for him. Meant to be his wife, his bird, his pet, and his love. It's destiny, he decided as he pulls you off his cock and uses his suit sleeves to wipe your mouth and chin.

‘Everything leads to this,’ he thought, as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your lips. The saltiness of his taste in your mouth does not deter his tongue from tasting you.

“Go to my- our room,” he whispered to you as he broke the kiss. “I'll be there soon,” he promises as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips kissing your skin. You nod and get off his lap. Your feet drag you into his room.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus takes a deep breath, trying to maintain whatever pathetic excuse of sanity he had held. It didn't work. His cock was hard enough to hurt and his brain made him think. He thinks of removing you, he thinks of keeping you. He thinks of plans to protect you, backup plans to make sure you remain untouched while still maintaining the image of the First Lady. His true possessiveness and obsession flares up in his mind.

‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past,’ he told himself, repeating that line to his head.

He takes a deep breath, a glance at the cameras shows workers and guards kept the halls clear and you were in his room and on his bed waiting for him. Waiting for him to ravish you as you kept playing with the buttons of the shirt, and your underwear on the floor. Your face was crimson but your lower lip was in a darker shade of red with how much you bitten it because of nervousness.

He lets out a huff of air before adjusting himself accordingly. Coriolanus Snow was many things, gentlemen included and gentlemen don't keep their ladies waiting.

You freeze as he enters the room. You swallow nervously, your fingers pausing on the shirt button you were playing with. He glances at the panties that were on the floor and he gives you a little smirk. “Take it all off, my wife,” he said as his hands worked to undress him. His suit was on the floor, his shirt joining it soon enough.

You have to press your thighs together as you see his skin again, a whimper escaping your lips at the sight. He was so beautiful, craved by the angels, breathed to life by the devil. Soon, his pants and boxers were getting ridden off.

You check him out, your gaze hungry. Your fingers shake with desire as you take off your (his) shirt. You let it fall, exposing yourself completely to him, like he did for you. His eyes rack you up, causing a flush to every visible inch of your skin.

“Open your legs,” he said, as he walked closer and got down on his knees for you. “I am hungry,” he said, while his lips pressed to your knee and his lustful eyes bewitched you. You had to bite your tongue to not let a moan from his mere words. You spread your legs wide, letting your cunt come into his view.

Your folds that were glistening with your arousal and your slit which was the cause of your juices fluttered around nothing from his gaze. “Exquisite,” he had whispered, the praise warming you up and making your pussy clench harder. “Eager too,” he chuckles, looking up at you but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Have your meal,” you mumbled, embarrassed. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch from the contact. A sharp moan escapes when he bites, his teeth digging into the flesh and your hand falls onto his hair. Your fingers grip the blonde locks but you don't try to push him away. Your legs tried to close around him, but his hands made sure to keep them spread as he liked it.

He pulled away, admiring the mark before he pressed another wet kiss to it. His fingers grip your thighs, they hold tight enough to leave marks too.

He takes in a deep breath, nuzzling into your thigh. Your primal scent makes him go wild, his nail digging into your skin as he brings his lips closer to your pussy. One swipe of his tongue onto your folds and he groans louder than you have ever heard him to do so.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he lets out, as his nose bumps into your clit, his tongue messily swirling around your folds, gathering as much of your juices as possible. Your legs were all on his shoulders now as he all but pressed his face, burying himself in your cunt. He takes in a deep breath through his mouth before he begins to ravish you properly.

His mouth taking in your entire pussy and sucking it with such devotion it made you see stars. He laps at your pussy, his tongue never stopping to devour you. You pulled him even closer, your thighs closing around his head. The action only made him. You couldn't see it, but his eyes rolled back from the lack of air and your taste that quickly became his favorite.

His teeth pulled at the outer lips of your pussy, making you cry out and gush more juices. He licks it all up. Before his attention goes to your little bud, his mouth kisses it at first. Then he takes your clit into his mouth to suck without any mercy.

It makes you cry out, the soles of your feet digging into his back as your hips begin to rut against his face. You have no control over your actions. You were gripping his hair so tight you were afraid that you tore away a few strands. Overwhelming pleasure attacked all of your senses as he didn't stop his merciless actions.

You arch your back, your lips moaning his name as heat begins to gather in your body. You cry out, “Close! Coryo! Fuck!” Pleads begin to leave your mouth as your hips grind faster, your clit nudged his nose as his tongue is now inside your walls, fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes widen, and you let out a silent scream when his teeth nip your swollen clit. You lay on the bed, panting as your pussy cums on his face. Your arousal makes a mess on his face which makes you even more slick when he pulls back and gets on top of you.

You looked into his eyes, his cold blue eyes that were nearly black now. He was panting, both of your breaths mixing into the air. With whatever senses you have left, you use your palm to clean up some of the mess on his face.

As soon as you finish up, he holds your hand. His mouth on your palm with broad strokes of his tongue he licks the remaining of your juices clean. “Can't let it go to waste, my bird,” he whispered to you as he leaned down. His body caging yours or were you caging him down with your legs around his waist? He pressed a kiss to your cheek. Sweet and gentle, and so unlike him but you don't dare question his affections. May it be sweet or savory, you accept it with your arms wide open.

“Want you,” you whispered to him. “You'll have me when I see fit,” he replied, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck before they reached the flesh of your breasts. One of his hands squeezed your breast and his thumb rubbed circles on your nipple. His lips paid attention to the underside of it, licking the skin around the round flesh before his teeth sank in making you gasp. He sucks harshly, his hold on your breast getting rougher as he forms the mark on your skin. When he's assured that a hickey will be formed, his lips pull back and he presses a kiss to the mark.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin before he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks just as harshly as before. You moan, “Yours, Snow!” Your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His fingers play and squeeze your other breast while he continues to suck your bud. Your cunt despite having a previous earthsharing orgasm begins to pulse with need. You whimper, “Corio, please!”

Coryo pulls away, his eyebrows etched in annoyance, as much as he likes to hear you beg, he would rather focus on his task of marking you up. He leans up and presses his lips to you. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers tangling themselves into his curls bringing him even closer to you. He breaks the kiss, “I'll teach you to be obedient later, my pet.”

You let out a whimper when he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. His hands travel down to your hips. “Get ready,” he whispered to you, “I meant my words.” I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name. Remembering his earlier words, you whine loudly, “Please!”

His hand grips your hip tightly as his other hand holds his hard cock and guides it to your entrance. Just to be a little tease, he swipes his mushroom tip all over your cunt, his cockhead bumping your swollen clit making you arch your back and your nails dig into his flesh harder, making him moan as well.

He finally pressed his tip into your slit, his cock gliding in smoothly because of how wet you were. He groans as his dick gets sucked into warmth. His head is between the space of your shoulder. He was panting, his hot breath hitting your skin as he pushed in inch by inch. Your hands are on his back, your legs around his waist as you encourage him to go deeper into you with your soft moans.

His teeth sink into your neck to stop a groan, as his cock reaches your deepest spot. While your nails drag themselves across his back to create red lines. Both of you finding ways to anchor yourself to reality, to not go insane with the pleasure you find in each other.

“Move,” you plead, “Please, Coryo, need you to fuck me. Need you!” Snow decided to have mercy on you both, his hips began to move shallowly, and he refused to completely pull back. He refused the concept of depriving his dick of your sweet, wet pussy. “Faster,” you beg, his deep thrust hits at your every spot, some you didn't even know existed. It fried at your senses, your mind going haywire, your body getting desperate for another release.

“No,” he barks near your ear, his mouth biting your earlobe before he begins to kiss your jaw and then to your collarbone. His lips suck purple and blue bruises on your skin while his hips grind into you. Making you go dizzy and insane with how his cockhead kept grazing your g-spot.

“Please, please,” you babble, “You're fucking me so good, Coryo! I can't take it, please! Fuck me harder, love!” His hips had stopped moving as he heard your words. His head leaned up to you, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “What did you say?”

You looked straight into his eyes, not hiding the love you had for him, letting it flow through your words and your body. “Love,” you whispered, your lips pressing a delicate kiss that could shatter everything you had built with Snow. “I love you,” you whispered. One of your hands moves to his cheek, caressing him. “You don't have to do anything in return, just know that I love you.” You smile at him, knowing it's more likely that he won't ever return your feelings.

You prepared yourself for a harsh rejection but instead, his hips begin to move again. Harder, faster than before, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips marking it. You won't be able to walk later but that didn't matter.

What mattered was how perfect Coriolanus had begun to fuck you. No, it wasn't a fuck. This was something more. Something changed with your confession, something changed and will remain changed for the rest of both of your lives.

One of his hands reached upward, his fingers snaking around your throat. He pressed it in, not enough to block your breathing but enough to make you lightheaded. Your pussy which was already tight, clenched around him further making him groan right against your ear.

“Lover indeed,” he whispered, his words that you nearly missed, your heart understood what he meant. You gasp, “Kiss me.” You knew that even without him saying those words, he could love you all the same.

Snow complies, his lips clashing with yours. His hips rutting into you as his hands guide your legs into the mating press position, making you cry out into the kiss as his cock reaches even deeper than before causing a small bump into your stomach that neither of you notices.

The kiss got open-mouthed, desperate with how his tongue tangled with yours. It was filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of love you both felt for each other. His thrusts got faster, and sloppier as he was close to his end. Your cunt pulsating around his length as you too were close to shattering again.

What it took for both of you to reach the end was him breaking the kiss to whisper, “I should kill you. I should kill you for making me a lovesick fool again.”

The words even when you know can mean your doom makes you cum like nothing else. Your lips cry out as your walls begin to milk his cock for what it's worth. He groans into your mouth, letting himself feel your fluttering cunt before he thrusts into you once, twice, and finds his release. His cock spilling into you, his cum painting your insides white, marking you.

He pulls out, his back covered with scratches, his curls clinging to his forehead and his lips swollen from the kisses. You looked just as much of a mess as he did, with marks all over your body.

He thinks to himself as he lies beside you. He wasn't going to kill you now. Not in ten years or fifty but your end would only be when he decides.

He loves you after all, in his twisted way.

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @justacaliforniandreamer

#character x reader #x reader #x female reader #x you #fem reader #scenario #oneshot #smut #x reader smut #x you smut #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #president snow #dystopian fiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie #the hunger games #tbosas x you #tbosas smut #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #arranged marriage

[boxingcleverrr]

Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.

Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.

But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.

The Abduction is The Thing.

Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.

Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.

It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.

I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!

It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.

"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.

And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.

They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.

Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.

That's how it went.

I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:

This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!

Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.

#blathering #truly had a ramble bubbling for weeks #just pagan things

[xxnghtclls]

Harder

Explicit True Form Sukuna x Reader (Permission Universe 🥰)

Summary: During a cold winter night out in the forest, you ask Sukuna to warm you up.

This takes place a night before the final chapter of Permission. However, I think it's possible to read it without having read Permission, since it doesn't include much mention of the plot, but! - beware - it does mention the ending. However, I do think it makes more sense if you've read Permission tho.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 4,8k

Tags below the cut.

Tags:

Lot‘s of fucking, Sukuna is a Little Shit, Four-Armed Sukuna, Established Relationship, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Double Penetration, Sukuna Has Two Penises, Porn with Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Finger Sucking, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Outdoor Sex, Choking, Gentle Sex, Rough Sex, Monsterfucking

—————

„I think you should say it more often.“

„Say what?“

„Queen.“

Sukuna sneers at you, before he keeps chewing on that piece of meat he just ripped off a bone.

„You rarely do. Can‘t even remember the last time you did.“ you continue, while poking with a stick into the fire, adjusting the wood, while your back faces your King.

No response.

Asshole.

The night is cold, as you’re sitting in front of your campfire. A freezing breeze flows through the branches of the forest trees around you, as the moonlight shines down upon you.

„I just think you could say it once in a while, after I endured that nightmare ritual of yours.“ you say playfully, cocking your head to the side, while staring into the flames, poking.

“I know you’re proud of it.” he chuckles darkly, before he spits a little piece of bone out of his mouth.

A pause.

„I am…” you say in thought and after a moment, you turn back to him. “That’s why I want to hear it from your lips. It makes me know, that you’re proud of it too. Having me and being mine.” you continue in a soft voice.

He stops chewing, as he listens to your words, looking at you.

And he squeezes at your heart… before he leans over to you and flicks his finger against your forehead.

“Enough now, Princess.” he says gently.

“There it is!” your complain loudly, pointing at him with your finger.

He shrugs and grins playfully, before he slides down to the ground, off the log he’s been sitting on and leans his back against it. You can’t help to think that he looks cozy with that black cloak around his shoulders and his wide, white pants. The way the cloak gently lays upon his naked skin and muscles lets you feel a heartbeat in your cunt.

But-

You turn back to the fire and keep poking. It’s all fun and games, but in the end, you mean what you said.

I want him to be proud, too.

You feel his eyes boring into your back and feel his grin growing.

Motherfucker.

“My Lady shouldn’t care much about what I’m calling her, when she knows what she is.”

You cock your eyebrow, before you slowly turn to look over your shoulder to him.

“My Lady?” you repeat in question.

His eyebrow twitches and his smile turns into a proud one.

So pretty.

“I will grant you this one.” you say hesitantly. “Does it flow better over your lips?”

“It does.” his voice a whisper, as his eyes twitch slightly.

A pause.

And you both look at each other, drown into each others eyes, almost as if you could undress each other with them, with the sound of the fire crackling in the background.

“Does it flow to your lips when I say it like that?” his eyes jump down between your legs, before he speaks with a deep, seductive voice. “My Lady?”

And it does flow to your lips, make them feel your heartbeat and salivate.

Make them hungry.

You blink, before you let go of that stick, before you stand up and walk to where Sukuna’s feet are resting. Arousal between your legs and in his eyes, as you slowly untie your obi.

“It’s cold out here.” you say sternly, as you undress your Kimono, until his crimson eyes meet your naked chest, tits and cunt. “Warm me up!”

The fabric falls onto the ground, as his eyes wander over your body. His stare causes the tingling feeling between your legs to increase further and further, wonder if he already can see some smear on your inner thighs. Slowly his lips turn into a pout, before his eyes shoot back up to meet yours.

And he doesn’t say anything, as you start to shiver, as the hairs on your skin start to stand up.

It‘s december after all.

Sukuna‘s expression turns neutral again, dark eyes just watch you standing right there at his feet. He‘s just watching you wait for his command.

Or does he?

“I’m cold, my King.” you whisper, earning a cock of his eyebrow.

But no answer.

Hm.

You take a step forward, the tense situation makes you feel your folds with every step already, before you’re standing inbetween his legs. Slowly your right foot, crawls over his bulge, massaging his dicks through the fabric of his pants. Your breath hitches at the feeling, as you can feel him pulsate and twitch beneath the clothes. His bottom pair of eyes follow your motions, while his upper pair stays fixated on you.

So hot.

“Cold.” you breathe and your limbs start trembling.

Sukuna shifts a little, presses his bulge more against the friction of your foot, while he watches how your nipples harden more each second.

“C’mere.” he finally whispers in a welcoming, warm tone, while he taps with his fingers on his lap.

Tap. Tap.

You take another step and let yourself fall harshly onto his lap. Hungrily you grab his hair and shove his face against yours. Sukuna kisses you back, with need, as his upper pair of arms wrap around you and grab your hair as well, pushing you even closer against him. You can feel his dicks throbbing against your cunt.

And soon you can feel the arousal not only in your folds, but also in your abdomen.

It almost drives you insane.

“So cold, my Love.” you breathe at his lips without air. “I need you so badly.”

You grab his cloak, feel the fabric between your fingers, how warm it is from the skin of your King, before suddenly Sukuna elevates his hips to free himself from his pants with his bottom pair of arms.

His dicks slap against your ass, causing you to whimper against his lips. Hands find your ass, spread your cheeks and slap your left one harshly.

Loudly.

Slap!

He groans into your mouth and you moan back, out of pain and pleasure and impatience.

Impatience.

You grab between your legs, reach for his upper dick and hungrily move it through your slick.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Between your lips.

God.

You hiss against his lips and close your eyes, the feeling of his skin against your wet core so intense already, almost feeling like you’re dripping down onto his meat, while your breath is trembling from arousal.

And so is his. Sukuna’s upper pair of hands wander from your hair and neck down to your tits, before they pinch and move your hard nipples between his fingers. His left hand slaps your rear a second time, before he reaches down for his bottom dick and places it at your leaky hole. You open up your eyes again and look into his crimson ones, before you lean back and press his upper dick against his bottom one. His chest keeps rising and falling, quick enough for you to notice, before you lower yourself and push both of his dicks against your entrance.

“Agh.” he hisses, while you curse under your breath. Slowly, you push him into you, so sweet and thick, thinking you could cum from this feeling alone.

“Fuckkk.” your quiet voice is jittering, but you take your time. The feeling is too good, too intense to rush it.

You might cum in an instant.

Sliding his cocks fully into you, your clit hits his pelvis.

So good.

Your heart is racing, as Sukuna’s right upper hand, crawls up your chest, your throat, to your mouth. His hooded eyes look at you and he nudges his head at you, giving you the silent command to open your mouth.

And you do.

Your tongue swirls around his index and middle finger, tasting him, feeling his skin, before you close your mouth around them.

And you suck.

Sukuna’s lip twitches at the feeling and you feel him tensing up beneath you. He must be so close to start pounding into you relentlessly. You close your eyes, dive into the taste of his fingers, enjoy the feeling of them pressing into your mouth, while you start moving up and down so gently and slowly. It‘s so intense. You feel everything. Every tiny little motion. It has your breath jittering.

A squeeze on your heart makes you open your eyes again, to meet his blown pupils, so aroused and in love with that sight of you sitting on his dicks.

Sukuna pulls his fingers out of your mouth, before he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, exposing your teeth. Your breath turns more vocal with every motion, the hot air coming out of your mouth hitting Sukuna’s fingers, before he starts gently rocking his hips in synch with your motions.

So deep.

You start moaning against his hand, feeling so good for him.

“Coating my cocks so well.” he whispers like in trance, while his hand wanders to your throat, squeezing gently. Heat rises to your face, before eyes fall down to his torso, watch how his muscles tense and flatten with each gentle thrust.

“In the essence of your cunt.” he continues inbetween your moans, his voice raspy. “So slick and wet.”

He pulls you closer at your throat, before his bottom pair of hands dig into your ass.

“So sweet and tasty.” he whispers into your ear. “My Lady.”

The heat his words are causing in your abdomen and face is cooking your skin. Each gentle thrust and each motion of your hips feels divine, connected and synchronised, pressing into your sweet spot harder and harder, while you listen to the slick noises that your skins are causing. You’re moaning so loudly now, as you can’t suppress the pleasure he’s causing in your body.

And you‘re so close. Already.

“I’m about to cum.” you whine and his fingers around your throat tighten.

“Not yet.” his nose brushes against the shell of your ear.

Fuck.

“I can’t-“

“Not yet.”

His voice.

So arrogant.

You’re concentrating so hard, but you’re so close, so so close, start to clench and choke his dicks, about to snap, when suddenly he pulls at your throat, pulls you off his meat. Your face meets the cloak on his shoulder and your body starts shaking from the pleasure, as you’re fighting your body and mind to not cum just like that, without having him in you.

“Keh Keh Keh.” he giggles so deviously into your ear, while you’re trying to stay on this earth, as you hold on to him, dig your nails into him, as you groan and moan into his neck and skin.

“Shhh.” he hushes between giggles.

“Shut up.” you whine, before you bite into the fabric, that’s covering his shoulder, making him groan in amusement.

“Tch tch tch.” he clicks his tongue. “That’s not how a Lady speaks to her King.”

He let’s go of your throat and while your body slowly recovers from your denied orgasm, you raise your head to look at him. Sukuna’s badly acted, disappointed pout makes you want to shove his face in between your thighs, to finish what his cocks started.

“No?” you breathe, raising your eyebrow at him. He cocks his eyebrow back at you, your right hand slowly crawls to his throat, up to his chin, before your middle and ring finger push onto his lips.

And he opens his mouth, gives the underside of your fingers a dedicated lick, before he closes his lips around them. His eyes grow soft, as he starts sucking, watching every reaction that paints onto your face.

And you do the same. Can’t help to think how beautiful he looks, how his brow furrows at your taste, how his breath hits your hand with every second. Sukuna’s hands on your ass gently knead your flesh, while his other pair of hands brush over the skin of your sides.

“You’re so beautiful…” you whisper, making him sigh against your fingers. “My King.”

He purrs against your fingers, as his eyes look at you, so needy, so aroused, as you retract your fingers out of his mouth, a string of saliva connecting your fingertips to his tongue.

“Now warm me up again.” you continue, making his lip twitch and curl into a smirk.

His left hand leaves your side, reaching inbetween your legs and propping his dicks back up against your entrance. The hands on your ass spread your cheeks, as he lowers you, as he slides himself back into your insides.

And he goes slowly. The pleasure starts rising again with every inch you slide onto him and you let your forehead bump against his, as you’re breathing heavily against his face. Sukuna’s breath quickens as well, his mouth opening in pleasure, before he gives your bottom lip a single lick. You moan loudly, want to press your thighs together, as the slick feeling of his lengths intensifies. Then he starts rocking his hips. So good and slow, picking up your pleasure from before, making you feel like a puddle immediately.

In and out.

In and out.

“I wanna cum.” you breathe into his face.

In and out.

In and out.

He groans into your mouth.

In and out.

In and out.

Fuck.

“Gonna cum.” you whine breathlessly, as your fingers dig into the back of his neck and hair

You clench and clench and clench, so wet and soaking-

And you snap.

Sukuna starts rocking his hips more and more to make you ride on your orgasm, as you keep moaning your high into Sukuna’s face, almost drooling onto his chin and chest. He moans in synch with you, obviously enjoying your high as much as you.

And then he slows down again, as you’re panting and trying to regain your consciousness. His dicks are pulsating in your cunt. He must be so starved.

But he’s patient.

After a moment, after catching your breath, you press a loving kiss onto his lips, before you lean to his right ear, your face brushing against his mask in the process.

“I told you to warm me up.” you whisper, like this was just the first bite of a three course menu. “That’s not how you treat your Lady.”

A deep chuckle escapes his chest, before you feel him shift beneath you. Positioning his feet on the ground, you know he’s ready to truly warm you up.

Ready to fuck.

And he starts a steady rhythm, unexpected light for his usual manners.

He wants to play.

Slap…Slap…Slap…Slap.

Your fucked out clit doesn’t feel much from this type of motions, but for now, you enjoy him as he is. Feeling him sliding in and out, feeling his hands on your ass and on your sides, as you start to place chaste kisses on his neck.

He groans and squeezes at your heart, while you keep kissing. Then licking and biting and back to kissing. Sukuna tilts his head to give you better access to his neck. You keep going, showering his neck in kisses and marks, while your right hand moves across his cheek, caressing it.

I love you.

Slap…Slap…Slap…Slap.

A final kiss on his neck and collarbone, before your lips reach for his earlobe. You’re still being rocked back and forth from his pace, but-

I need more.

You gently bite and tug on the jewellery of his lobe, making him hiss and chuckle.

“I’m still cold.” you whisper.

“Oh yeah?” his arrogant tone chimes in your ear.

“Mhmh.” you hum.

Slap!

A harsh thrust, making you moan out loud.

“Harder.” you breathe.

A purr vibrates against your chest, before he-

Slap! Slap!

-thrusts harshly a second and third time, before he slows down again.

Those felt so good.

“Harder, my King.” you repeat your plea, whining, before you feel his hands spread your asscheeks once again. Suddenly a warm, wet tongue probes at your unattended asshole, licking and pushing into it. The sensation makes you moan softly into his ear, before he picks up his pace again.

A bit faster now.

Slap..Slap..Slap..Slap..

“Harder.” you moan.

Slap!

Another single harsh thrust.

“Agh!”

So intense now with his tongue in your asshole.

“Like this?” he whispers so deeply.

Slap..Slap..Slap..Slap..

You start to dive into this feeling again, start to huff and sigh and moan into his ear. Nails dig into the fabric of his cloak and tug, as you bury your face back into his shoulder.

And you shake your head.

Suddenly he lifts your ass up and his dicks leave your cunt, before his other hand reaches back between your legs. Sukuna lines his upper dick back up against your soaked hole and pushes the tip in, before he takes his bottom dick and presses it against your asshole.

And it slides in, so easy, so slick and easy, that your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Or like this?” he growls.

Slap!

You cry out against his shoulder, drool upon his cloak, before you nod your head.

“Yes! Harder!” you whine, earning another hum and purr from his chest.

“My needy little slut.” he chuckles, before his pace grows rapidly.

Slap.Slap.Slap.Slap.

“You like this?” he coos between your moans, as he wraps his upper pair of arms around your back, pressing you closer onto his torso.

“Harder!” you whine, unable to function now, before he slides down more onto the ground, changing the angle of his thrusts.

“Fuck!” he growls, before slamming himself into you even harder.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

You cry out into his neck, almost hear your noises echoing back from the forest around you. Using the full strength of his thighs and feet now, forcing his dicks to reach so deep and violently into you.

And oh you love it.

Love how he loves using you like that.

Love how he’s fucking you like that.

God.

He’s holding you so tight, making you unable to move, just able to feel his sweet violence on you. The slaps of your skin and the cries of your throat echo through the whole forest. Sukuna tunes in, as his heavy breathing turns into grunts and moans as well.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

The pleasure in your abdomen rises again, as he keeps smashing himself into your insides. His pace is merciless, as well as his stamina.

And you know he could do this for hours.

Grabbing your asscheeks tight, he slams your pelvis down onto him to meet his hips from below. His abs are rubbing against your own stomach, becomes slick, as you both start to sweat from the motions and the fire right next to you.

Slap!Slap!-

And suddenly he stops. The sudden halt of movement lets the blood tingle in your veins, lets the sensation in your walls become so intense. He’s panting, before he suddenly moves. Without leaving your holes, he leans forward, almost slams you onto the ground right next to the fire and puts his weight on top of you. A loud sigh escapes his mouth, before he leans down and kisses you hungrily, before he slowly starts to thrust again. Sukuna grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, into his flickering crimson eyes, the illumination from the fire dancing in his orbs.

His nails dig into your cheeks, while he hooks his bottom pair of arms below your knees, folding you in half, make your back dig itself into the cold ground.

“My sweet slut.” he coos breathlessly, before-

Slap!

You cry out in pleasure, as he picks up the harsh pace from before, his dicks reaching so deep into you, knocking at your brain and skull.

“I’m still cold.” you whine, with tears in your eyes, as you wrap your hands around his jaw.

“I know.” he grunts, as he keeps going and going, as the heat from his body keeps radiating onto your whole skin except your back.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

Sukuna keeps fucking and fucking, the force and his weight causing your knees to finally meet the ground right next to your sides, as his upper pair of arms steady him next to your head. His constant pounding cause more and more tears to form in the corners of your eyes, as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder.

You feel his dicks swell up and you know he’s close, as he keeps moaning into your ear.

“You gonna cum?” you whine in between moans.

“Gonna fill you up.” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up nice and warm from the inside, just like you want me to.”

And they swell impossibly thicker, make you clench so hard around them. You’re so close, too, don’t want this to be over.

But you can’t hold it. After two more thrusts and you’re snapping again, melting into a shaking puddle beneath his figure, as you bite and scream into his shoulder.

And he slips out again, doesn’t let you ride it out this time.

Doesn‘t want to cum yet.

“Fuckkkk.” you curse him, as you’re left unable to move, his grip on your knees so tight and his weight on you so heavy.

“Gonna make you warm you up real good now.” he coos. “Hot like fire.” he growls, as he picks you up again and leans back again. Lying on his back, he cradles you in his arms on top of him, your legs dangling over his bottom right arm, his other arm supporting the back of your head.

“Like molten metal.” he keeps talking in a thick voice, before spitting into his upper right hand and reaching for your asshole. Coating it with more of his spit and giving it a wet lick with a tongue on his palm, before he reaches for his dicks again, inserting them leaky tips back into your holes, before he reaches with the very same hand for your jaw, grabbing it tightly, making you stare into his eyes.

“So hot and warm, just how my little Queen wants to be.”

There it is.

His words and the way he’s holding you, make you want to bawl your eyes out, but you behave yourself, just let your eyes scream your love for him into his face.

Sukuna puts up his right food, supporting himself, ready to thrust again. You feel the warmth of the fire on your back, as he starts slowly.

It’s too much.

Almost.

His eyes grow soft, his mouth falls open and his brow furrows in pleasure, as he keeps staring at your fucked out face, pulling you so close.

So intimate.

Despite being outside you can smell the sex and filth that the both of you imprinted into this place.

“Fucking me so good.” you slur, while your mind is elsewhere, just feeling him and his being, while your cheek is pressing against his chest.

His lip twitches, before he smirks proudly.

Slap!

The way he’s holding you, the way your thighs are pressed together, cause you to feel more friction against your clit and holes.

“Make me melt.” you beg into his eyes. “Let our souls merge.”

He chuckles.

“Poetic.” he flares his red eyes at you, before he picks up his pace.

Harder.

Harder.

Harder!

Suddenly his upper left hand grabs your hair from behind and yanks your head into your neck.

Harshly.

You gasp in pain, as your eyes stare into the flames behind you.

So close.

So hot.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

“Gonna make you melt and melt myself into you.” he growls.

His thrusts ignite a spark through your whole being, accompanied with his words, they carry your mind back to the present, make you realise he’s holding your face so close to the fire. It feels so hot against your skin.

Sukuna’s grip on your hair is so tight, that his nails are digging into your skull.

And you love it.

Love his sweet harshness he‘s using on you.

Slowly the pleasure starts rising again, your cunt still so wet and soaking from all the penetration and orgasms he put you through. Sukuna’s deep moans echo in your ear, before his teeth find your exposed neck and he starts nibbling, biting and licking your sensitive skin.

It hurts.

And you love it.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

You cry out, as he suddenly bites into your shoulder, while his arm below your knees pull you tighter against him, as his pace grows impossibly harder, faster. So animalistic and brutal, as his dicks keep slamming against your mind again, making you unable to breathe and think.

And he fucks and fucks and fucks your poor and enjoying holes, marks your skin as his with his teeth, as the heat rises to your face again.

“Yours.” a muffled growl against your shoulder.

Oh god.

It makes the heat from within and the fire mix on your cheeks and ears. His voice causes your body to tense up and suddenly something in you snaps.

Your eyes roll back and you gasp, your vision grows foggy, but sharp. Your senses numb, but heighten, as your heart rate exhilarates. Yanking your head out of his hold, you look back into Sukuna’s face again.

“There you are.” he hisses, so aroused.

Slap!

You slap him across the face, before your hand finds his throat, pressing tight.

“Mine!” you hiss between moans, the pitch of your voice being shaken from the velocity he‘s using on you.

Sukuna’s grin grows wide, as he raises his chin, exposing his throat even more, groaning in pleasure, letting you choke him as hard as you can, enjoying the pressure, not stopping his violent thrusts. Your face paints itself in pleasure, your mouth falls open, as your other hand reaches for his face, pushing your thumb against his bottom lip.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

With a loud moan, he opens his mouth and you hook your thumb against his bottom teeth, forcing him to keep his mouth opened for you.

His hold on you tightens even more, almost feels like he’s going to crush your little figure in his arms, as his dicks start swelling thicker and thicker. You notice that he clenches his jaw, before he blinks and his eyes roll back, before he tilts his lust ridden face back to you. White orbs stare into each others soul, as his expression turns aggressive and you choke him harder. His lips twitch and his dicks throb so violently in your insides.

Oh how he loves it.

And you do, too.

This aggressive, sinful sight makes you step so close to the edge of nirvana.

Again.

And he would treat you like this.

Again and again.

Because you’re his and he is yours.

For now and all eternity.

Your skin is burning from the fire and from the heat between your bodies, feeling as hot as ever, feeling so in love with him, feeling so surrender to him.

Because he is your King.

Your God and Lover.

For now and all eternity.

Your moans grow into screams, as he keeps slamming himself into you and your sweet spot, so used, so so used already, but he feels so good, so so good, that you can’t help it.

And your holes snap around his dicks, making you cum a third time, so intense, so hot and soft like molten metal. Walls grip onto his lengths oh so tightly, trying to milk him and his essence into your womb. Crying your moans into the hot air around you, while his mouth closes around your thumb, sucking and biting down onto your bone, feeling your pulsating walls around his lengths, as slowly his growls become so loud, as he starts tensing up more and more beneath you. You pull your thumb out of his mouth, smearing his spit onto his cheek, as the end is near.

Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap! Slap!Slap!Slap!Slap!

And his brow furrows and his heart pulls at yours, before he comes undone, grunting and growling so deep and loud into your face, pumping you full of his seed and cum, so warm and thick.

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

And then he slows down. His breath jittering from the exhaustion. The smell of sweat and sex in your nose, as his slow and final thrusts push his essence into you.

So sweet, so deep.

I love you.

Ragged breaths fill the air around you, as both of your minds find back to reality. Your vision and sensation grows back to normal, as you still lay in his arms looking at him. His fingertips brush against your thighs and shoulder, as you watch him and how his red orbs blink back into his eyes, so tired, while he looks up into the sky.

And you look up, too, smiling, feeling warm.

Here with him.

And you both watch the moon and how it watches you.

You and your Love.

Together.

————

Taglist:

@rosemaydone321

#permission #sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #true form sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #nighty drabbles #fanfiction #ryomen sukuna

[evilminji]

You know what's a terrifying team up?

Paulina and Sam.

But IMAGINE~☆

You are young, Hot(tm), in Love with a Hero who very EXSISTANCE is illegal. Head of the cheer squad and queen bee of your school. Managing the complexe ever shifting social calander of both your school AND your personal life, your flawless grades, even MORE flawless complexion. You. Get. Shit. DONE.

Was falling in love with a dreamy dead hero from beyond the veil part of your 20 year plan? No. Did you adapt? Yes!

But. There is a PROBLEM. The Tacky In White. Those STUPID laws. Who the FUCK are you supposed to marry the love of your life if he's being HUNTED BY THE GOVERMENT?! You REFUSE to have your wedding in international waters! Half your family gets SEA SICK!

So you plan. Social pressure. Soft power. Turn THE PEOPLE against the Goverment and it WILL bow. They'll have no choice. Enough anger? Enough rioting? The risk of LOSING their dearly beloved POWER? Laws? WHAT laws? Toss them in the bin!

Then a spring wedding for Pauly~♡

She just needs her PEOPLE. The BEAUTIFUL people. Socialites and celebrities. Pretty, pretty faces that speak gospel to their masses. If THEY say ghosts are good? Then ghosts are good! And she can TOTALLY convince them to rally behind this!

.....she just needs ACCESS.

Fuck.

Uuuuugh. So she drags herself, reluctantly and for LOVE, to the Nerd Table. To talk to... *scrunch* Samantha. Blegch.

Do it for the cause, Pauly.

And? Dispite being SUPER lame and totally hostile at first? She's actually totally done to help? Really??? Huh. That's... Like? They're never gonna be FRIENDS or anything... but that... means a lot.

Thanks.

It's awkward. And obviously she doesn't want to catch NERD. So she leaves. But like? She wasn't TOTALLY awful. Paulina's mom was right. They really ARE growing up, aren't they? Weird.

Regardless. She has her IN. Billionaire, soft heart, and a GORGEOUS face. Brucie "Prince of Gotham" Wayne is holding a party. And Paulina? Is going to make him CRY. His kids too.

Those Tacky in White bastards are gonna be hunting ghost puppies and beating up ghost grannies. She's gonna get the nerd squad to make her fact sheets. Statistics! Wait for her Ghost Boy, help is coming. Paulina Sánchez is gonna make SURE of it!

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dcxdp

[fandomxpreferences]

You're Good For Me

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x female!reader

TW: 18+, soft Rafe has my heart, drug use, insecurities, mentions of vomiting, angst, fluff, drinking, I think thats it

Summary: You're a goody two shoes compared to Rafe and your insecurities lead you to make a reckless decision.

Word Count:2.7k

Despite Rafe's best efforts to snuff them out, you still have burning insecurities when it comes to your relationship with him. You don't consider yourself as beautiful as his past flings - though he tells you constantly that you're the most stunning and ethereal woman he's ever laid eyes on- you don't come from a family as wealthy as his, and you're not a partier. 

You've always wondered if it bothers Rafe that you can't seem to keep up with his lifestyle. You've never done anything more than drink or smoke weed, and it's no secret he's into party drugs. So when he told you he was throwing a party tonight, you made a decision. 

As soon as you step foot in the house, you're greeted by your smiling boyfriend. 

"Hey, angel. I was wondering when you were gonna show up. You want a drink?"

You return his grin and nod your head, melting into him when he bends down to give you a sweet kiss. You watch as he waltzes off toward the kitchen and immediately start looking around for his usual crowd. 

You spot them sitting around a table and push down your anxiety while making your way over. Topper spots you first and stands to give you a short hug. 

"Well if it isn't the kook king's queen. Where's Rafe?" 

Your hands wring together as you give a timid smile and nod toward the kitchen. 

"He's getting me a drink." 

You turn when you hear Kelce speak up and he pats the spot next to him. 

"Well come join us until he gets back. We haven't seen a lot of you lately." 

You fall into a comfortable conversation and try to find a way to weasel in the question without being too forward. Luckily, the opportunity presents itself when Topper pulls out a baggie and starts making lines. 

You eye the white powder while gnawing on your lip and he seems to notice, looking from the table, to you, and back again. 

"You want to do some?" He offers and you hesitate before agreeing. This is why you came over here; this is what Rafe wants. 

You watch as a couple people go ahead of you, snorting up the powder with a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill and swallow thickly. They do it all the time, how bad can it be?

"Top, I don't think that's a good idea." Kelce protests, eyes darting around to try and find Rafe. 

"Oh come on. She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions, right?" He retorts, shooting you a wink. 

"Besides, I'm sure she does this shit with Rafe all the time."

Rafe is caught up in a conversation that he got pulled into when his eyes start drifting away to find you. His lips quirk up when he sees you laughing with his friends. He's always loved how you get along with them so well, it's like his own little found family. 

His smirk quickly drops when he sees Topper pull out an all too familiar dime bag and dump it on the table. He's no stranger to doing bumps, but he knows you've never been around it before. He's just about to excuse himself when he sees Topper ask you a question that you answer with a nod. 

His heart stops and suddenly he feels sick to his stomach. No, surely not. There's no way that his friends would offer you drugs, and there's definitely no way you would accept. 

He watches in horror as time seems to go in slow motion, his feet carrying him toward you as soon as he sees you take the bill and drop to your knees. He's plowing through the crowd ruthlessly, ignoring the complaints as he knocks people off balance and drinks slosh out onto the hardwood floor. 

He's a few seconds too late and his mind goes into overdrive when your head lifts up with white powder around your nose. 

"What the fuck?" He bellows, and you look up at him with eyes wide as saucers. 

He didn't mean to scare you, and guilt eats at him for a second before he remembers the situation at hand. He isn't mad at you, he could never feel anything but love and adoration for the woman that holds his heart. 

Topper is already gone, his body buzzing as he fails to read the room. 

"Rafe, buddy! Why don't you join us?" He asks, and your boyfriend's eyes narrow into slits.

"Did you just give my girlfriend fucking coke?" He seethes, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear his friend admit it. 

Topper scoffs lightly and leans back on the couch.

"Yeah, so? You used to do this shit all the time, I didn't think it was a big deal." 

Rafe can feel the familiar sensation of rage clawing at his chest, intensifying in the way it does right before he loses control. He takes a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to let that ugly side of him out. You've never seen him like that, and being coked out when it happens will only make it worse. 

"Yeah, asshole. Used to. You ever wonder why I stopped? It's because I don't want her around this shit!" 

Kelce stands in between the men, already seeing where this is going to go. 

"Rafe calm down, okay? He didn't know." 

Your boyfriend is just about to argue when he feels your small hand on his forearm. His head turns to look down at you, and his features soften instantly. Your smile is beaming and he can tell it's starting to hit you. 

His eyes meet yours and he suppresses the urge to throw up when he sees how blown out your pupils are. Your usually bright eyes are now glossed over and your irises are barely visible around the black in the center. 

"Rafey, I'm fine. I'm one of you guys now!" 

He hates how excited you sound; as if being one of them is a good thing. His hearing gets fuzzy as a loud ringing starts in his ears when your words sink in. 

'I'm one of you guys now.'

Is this what you think he wants? Had he said or done something to make you believe that you need to participate in this bullshit for him to love you? His head spins as the thoughts race through his mind and bile rises in his throat as puts the pieces together.

Is this his fault?

The rest of the world melts away as he laser focuses on you. Your cheeks have an unusual red tint to them and there's the faintest bit of sweat beading on your hairline. Suddenly, all he can think of is getting you out of here. 

You've never had anything close to this in your system, and he wants to be there for every second in case something goes wrong. 

"Hey, pretty girl. Let's go outside, yeah?" 

You nod eagerly as he sends his friend one last death glare before pulling you out back by the pool. A few people are lingering, but it's significantly quieter than inside and it puts him at ease a bit. 

His head whips around when your hand leaves his and he frowns as you kick off your shoes. 

"What are you doing?"

You don't answer; instead, you stick your tongue out and jump into the pool fully clothed. Any other time he would laugh and probably even join you, but right now all he can think about is you drowning as he scrambles to the pool edge. 

"Baby, get out of the pool."

His voice is calm as he tries desperately to hide just how close he is to losing it. Your laugh rings out into the night sky as you start floating on your back and he sighs. 

"Come on, don't be such a party pooper!" 

He remembers the first time he did blow. The way he felt like he was invincible and on top of the world. It was fun; until it wasn't. He resigns to his fate, pulling off his own shoes and shirt before climbing in with you. 

He knows there's no getting through to you, and if you won't cooperate then the least he can do is make sure you're safe. He can't help but smile as you dive under the water and start swimming like a mermaid, clearly enjoying yourself.

The damage is already done, he might as well let you enjoy the high while it lasts. He's intimately familiar with the god-awful crash you're going to have in a couple hours. 

He'd been surprised to find out the high only lasts about a half hour, followed by a couple hours of coming down before the real pain starts. 

It can't hurt to let you feel a little euphoric before you feel like you've been run over by a truck multiple times. His heart clenches at the idea of seeing you like that, and he feels dread course through his veins. 

He swims around with you for a bit, the two of you giggling like kids and having splash fights. Though he never wants you to do this again, he can't help but bask in the beauty of how happy you look. You're the most bubbly person he knows, and still, he's never seen you this giddy. 

He's not sure how long it's been, but concern washes over him when he starts to notice your behavior change. Your movements are slowed as the substance leaves your system and you look like you haven't slept in days. 

You're not laughing and smiling anymore; in fact, you look like you're seconds from bursting into tears. He swims over to you slowly and pulls you into his arms as gently as he can. 

"You okay, sweet girl?" 

He knows you're starting to feel like shit, he can sense it in the way you cling to him like a lifeline and respond quietly. 

"My head hurts." 

Your voice is barely above a whisper and he squeezes his eyes shut. He knew this was coming, yet part of him hoped that you could just surpass this part. 

"I know, baby. Why don't we go inside and get dried off? I'll get you some water and we can cuddle." 

He feels you nod weakly into his neck and realizes he's going to have to carry you when you don't relinquish your grip. He carefully climbs up the pool steps and holds you against his chest tightly as he supports your weight with ease. 

You're both sopping wet and dripping water as he makes the trek inside, but he doesn't care in the slightest. His only worry right now is making sure you're okay. 

He passes Sarah on the way and she frowns as she takes in your state. 

"What happened to her? Is she okay?"

Rafe just continues on his path, biting out a response in passing. 

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?"

Confusion washes over her and she turns to find him in the room. He's still doing lines with his friends and realization washes over her. 

She follows her brother, well aware of what this is going to entail from her own experiences of taking care of Topper. 

Rafe sits you on his bed and places your favorite hoodie of his on your shivering body after towel-drying you the best he can. Every little sound is amplified and it's like a jackhammer on the inside of your skull.

You lean into your boyfriend's touch as he runs his hands through your hair and try to focus on the smell of his cologne. You wince when you hear a soft knock on the door and Rafe tenses. He's really not in the mood to deal with anyone's shit right now. 

The door creaks open and Sarah stands in the doorway, concern etched on her features. 

"I thought I'd see if there's anything I can do to help."

Rafe looks back at you for a second before responding. 

"Can you keep an eye on her while I get some water and food?" 

Sarah nods but Rafe stops when your hand shoots out to grab him. 

"No! Please don't leave me."

His heart breaks at the way your voice wobbles and he notices your bottom lip quivering. He shoots Sarah a look and she nods before leaving the room. She comes back a few minutes later with a glass of water and some protein bars and sits on the bed next to you. 

Once you seem to calm down a bit, Rafe stands and your head throbs when you jerk to look at him. 

"I'm just going to go kick everybody out. I'll be right back, stay here with Sarah." 

The younger girl gives you a kind smile and you watch reluctantly as Rafe turns his back and walks out. He gets back a couple minutes later, panic rising when you're not where he left you. It's quickly replaced with concern when he hears retching coming from his bathroom. 

He peeks his head in and feels tears sting his eyes at the sight of Sarah holding your hair back as you lean over the toilet. He hates this. 

Sarah gives him a sympathetic smile when he walks over and takes your hair from her. She pats him on the back and lets herself out, knowing the two of you want privacy. 

You vaguely register Rafe putting your hair in a ponytail before his hands come down to rub soothing circles on your back. 

"I've got you. I'm right here, sweet girl."

This goes on for a few more minutes before you plop down on the marble floor with an exhausted huff. You reach up and flush the toilet, trying to hide your face in your hands. Rafe pulls them away and turns you to look at him. 

Your throat closes up when you see the pure adoration in his eyes, and before you realize what's happening sobs are wracking your body. Rafe shushes you as he picks you up and carries you back into the bedroom. 

He tucks you into the covers and climbs in, his arms instantly pulling you into him. He reaches across to the nightstand and holds the straw to your mouth as you take giant gulps. 

"Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

He places the cup back down and you turn to lay your head on his chest. 

"This feels like shit. I don't even know why I'm crying." You choke and he brushes a stray piece of hair out of your face. 

"It's the dopamine crash. It'll pass, I promise."

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you're almost asleep when you hear Rafe's voice in your ear. 

"Why did you do that?"

He sounds on the verge of tears and guilt washes over you.

"I want to be good enough for you. I felt bad that you stopped having fun because of me, so I thought if I did it maybe I wouldn't hold you back anymore." 

Rafe tenses as his worst fear is confirmed. Your confession swirls around his head for a minute before he finds the strength to reply. He swallows the lump in his throat and wills himself to keep it together.

"Angel, I didn't stop having fun because of you. This shit is not fun. Getting to love you and live life with you, that's fun. That's what makes me happy. I was miserable and spiraling before I met you. Please, don't ever do that again. You're good for me, and that's one of the reasons I love you so much." 

You feel a fresh round of tears fall as they seep into his shirt and he squeezes you tighter. 

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head and presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I'm not upset with you. Just please be safe, and never do something like that because of me, okay?" 

You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling stupid. 

"Hey, I can practically hear those thoughts of yours. You're okay, we're okay, everything is okay. Let's get some sleep and I'll take you to breakfast in the morning. You're going to be starving."

Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, he breathes a sigh of relief as your soft snores fill the room. Everything is right again as his girl is safe in his arms, far away from the life he once lived.

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks angst #outer banks fluff #outerbanks #outerbanks angst #outerbanks fic

[toomuchracket]

queen of hearts (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

penultimate day of valentine's week. this is a short and sweet one about you appearing at a signing with matty for the first time, a couple of months into dating. enjoy <3

“i really don't know what to wear today.”

matty leans round the doorframe, toothbrush hanging from his mouth exactly the same way a cigarette usually does. “just wear whatever,” he shrugs, voice muffled by toothpaste; he disappears to spit, and smirks at you when he returns. “go like that, even.”

“in my underwear?” you scoff. “who are we? kimye?”

your boyfriend laughs. “i love you.”

you sigh. “if you really did, you'd help me pick out an outfit.”

“baby, it's just an album signing, it's not fashion week. but alright,” matty stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, scrutinising the contents of the two weekend bags you've emptied onto his bed. “i like that skirt there,” he points at a long satin black and white swirly thing. “you could wear it with one of my t-shirts, if you wanted?”

his voice sounds so tender you can't help but smile, leaning round to kiss his cheek. “would you want me to wear one of your t-shirts with it, darling?”

“yeah,” matty nuzzles his face into your neck. “maybe that my bloody valentine top you've secretly had your eye on for years.”

“i have not!”

“liar,” he pinches your bare hip, kissing your neck when you yelp before letting go of you to rifle through his wardrobe. “here,” he returns with the t-shirt. “arms up, sweetheart.”

“m’not a baby, you know,” you grumble, as matty puts the top on for you.

“yeah, you are,” he beams when your face reappears from the fabric, taking it in his hands and kissing all over it. “my baby, my baby.”

“betting on losing dogs, are we?”

“hmm? wait, don’t tell me, i know this one, i do,” your boyfriend closes his eyes, reopening them and squinting in anticipation. “... mitski?”

you cheer, kissing him. “yes!”

he grins. “i listened to that album. liked it.”

“it's a good one,” you pull your skirt on and slip into your shoes; matty automatically kneels to help you lace them. “i think - oh, thanks, babe - yeah, i think i might see if i can buy it on vinyl today, actually.”

“dunno if you'll be able to, darling,” matty kisses your thigh through your skirt. “the amount of fans who've asked me if you're coming today? i reckon you'll be bombarded the whole time.”

“really?”

“yeah. people love you!” your boyfriend stands, kissing you deeply. “but not as much as i do. obv.”

“love you,” you kiss him again. “even when you're being delusional about how popular i am amongst your fanbase.”

“i'm right.”

“whatever you say, baby.”

as much as it pains you to admit it, when you begin to near the record shop in the car, it's clear that he really is. while you're in the middle of a conversation (interrogation, really) with ross about the mutual acquaintance of yours he’s started seeing - a travel photographer you know from condé nast meetings - matty elbows you in the ribs. “sorry, darling, i didn't mean to do that so hard. just got excited,” he grins, gesturing with his head to something on the street outside the window. “look at that girl's tote bag.”

grumbling, rubbing your sore chest, you squint to see what he means; when you do, your jaw drops. “fuck off. is that me?”

“yeah! as one of those saint candles!” matty laughs. “wonder where she got it. i want one. i'm gonna ask,” when the car stops, traffic gridlocked, he opens the window and leans out, while you facepalm and ross winces. “yo! love the tote bag! where'd you get it?”

“i made it!” a voice calls back, barely audible amidst the shrieks of the people around it. “i can make you one, too, matty!”

“would you? oh, thank you, darling. you're coming to the signing, yeah?”

“yeah!”

“alright. we'll talk then. see you!”

“tell your girlfriend i love her!”

matty laughs. “she's right here, she heard!”

the shrieks get even louder. your jaw drops, and ross laughs. “maybe you should wave to them, mate.”

“this is fucking insane,” you mutter in disbelief, undoing your seatbelt and shuffling to sit on matty's lap; his hands make their way around your waist on instinct, and you lean out the window somewhat nervously. “um. hi, guys?”

the scream you get in response is almost deafening - the six girls, none of whom look older than nineteen, look totally ecstatic to see you, squealing your name and waving so excitedly you can't quite comprehend it. you grin, and laugh when the one with the tote bag brandishes it towards you with a cry. “my patron saint!”

“oh, bless you,” you wink, and matty kisses your shoulder (out of sight of the audience) as they all laugh. “how are you guys, anyway? excited?”

the chatter restarts, but the smallest girl piques your attention first. “yeah! this is my first 75 album signing. i'm hyped!”

“is it?” matty pokes his head out, at the exact same time you say “mine too”. he kisses your cheek. “aww, that's cute. i mean, i've been going to your book signings for years, but,” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, and ross laughs from the other side of the car. “whatever.”

you sigh, turning to the girls. “what my darling boyfriend failed to mention is that i'd send him a signed copy - with a personal message, mind you - of everything i published, as pr, and he'd still show up and buy another one and make me sign it,” you ruffle his hair. “matty healy tree murderer confirmed.”

“but that's so sweet,” one of the girls sighs.

matty points at her. “exactly! and,” he looks at you adoringly. “i just like hearing you talk. that's why i came to all the events.”

this isn't news to you, but it melts your heart nonetheless. still, you can't resist - “simp”.

“says the woman who spent three hours watching tiktok edits of me yesterday.”

the girls cackle, collapsing into each other giggling in the unique way only young women do. “real,” one of them shouts, laughing even harder when you salute to her. “oh my god, i love you!”

matty turns to you, smug. “see?” he turns back to the window. “she didn't believe me earlier, when i told her you guys were hoping she'd come with me today. underestimated how much you love her.”

“yeah, yeah,” you rest your head against his. “he’s right, though - this is surprising to me. but very lovely, you guys are sweet.”

“and you guys are perfect,” tote bag girl grins. “seriously. it's so good to see you both so happy. please don't break up, ever, it would be worse for me than my actual parents’ divorce.”

you gasp out an “oh my god”, while matty giggles. “nah, no need to worry,” he looks at you with such tenderness you could cry. “she's it for me, the love of my life; if she leaves me, i'm going with her.”

“as if i'd ever leave you. love you too much to do that,” you scoff, tugging him into you for a hug. a retching noise from the other side of the car breaks your little reverie, and you giggle. “sorry for making you sit through the sappiness, ross.”

“wait, ross is here too?!”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #valentine75 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[psychwxrdd]

you are unfixable.

rafe is a possessive individual. obsessive, controlling. but you love him, right? so you surely must obey when he tells you not to do something, thats what he expects and thats how it will be. you're his.

warnings: abusive relationship, toxic boyfriend, possessive and obsessive behaviour, side jj x reader, domestic violence

(not mine gif)

the air felt scary inside his car, you were quietly staring at the window, not even breathing properly, scared of how your boyfriend would react. the silence made you even more anxious that if he was yelling instead.

no music, nothing. just the sound of the wheels.

till he broke it.

"what were you two even talking about? huh?"

"i told you, rafe, he just tried to have a normal conversation!" you said clearly annoyed.

he glanced at you.

"i already told you several times, i don't want you talking to that guy!" he almost shouted. his face looked red. his tone was harsh, but he tried not to scream yet.

"rafe...this is crazy! please, see things how they really are, i'm your girlfriend! it is not like i would go out there flirting with anyone else, i love you!"

you wanted to cry at how angry and sad you felt.

"i- i know, but..." he nodded his head, staring at his own hands "i know jj likes you, okay? and i just want to make sure he doesn't think he stand a chance with you"

"what are you talking about?" you furrowed your eyebrows. jj and you were never close, but whenever you had the opportunity to talk, it was something nice, fresh. he was a good company. you were sure he never saw you as anything else than a possible friendship.

"i see how he looks at you... the same way as i do, y/n" you breathed heavily. rafe wasn't just dramatic, he was THE drama queen himself. "don't give me that look!"

"what look?"

"the one you're giving me right now! like...like i'm crazy or something!" his eyes were full of tears, he was holding the steering wheel with a tight grip, his hands looked white.

"look" you said, trying to calm down . there was a brief moment of silence, you were thinking about the right words. "i've been thinking a lot about it, and... rafe, i'm not being healthy for you. our relationship is not healthy for you."

his eyes went wide, knowing what you were about to say. his heart beated so fast he considered he would might have a heart attack.

he knew it. he knew he was a fucking freak, but he couldn't find a healthier way to cope. he was totally, completely obsessed with you, he felt like throwing up by the mere thought of life without you. he knew it was far more than love, he knew it was sick.

"you need to focus on yourself by now, you know? try to stay clean, go see a therapist, take care of your mind and soul-"

before you could finish, he raced the car again. but this time, much faster than before.

"rafe, slow down!"

he kept going faster and faster, till the point where you were almost crying.

"RAFE! STOP!"

he didn't. and thats when you grabbed his arm, desperatedly trying to make him stop.

"please, please rafe, stop right now!"

you were so scared. it was a dark road, you could barely see anything in front of you.

he stopped.

you were breathless. your heart felt anxious, remembering the times where your dad used to fight with your mom and race the car, exactly like this, and threat to kill you and her.

rafe grabbed your wrist on his arm, tightly. "look at me"

you stared immediately, scared for your life. for some reason, you had jj in mind. would this ever happen if you were with him instead? what about the calm, fresh love you always wanted? this wasn't life. love wasn't supposed to be this dark. what if you had never met rafe and were close to jj instead?

of course he was also up for some trouble, but clearly not as extreme as your boyfriend.

"i love you more than i even love myself. but that doesn't mean i will let you hurt me like this and be just fine" he then cupped your jaw. you couldn't hold your sobs anymore.

"i can't live without you, baby, i'm not even phisically able to do it... so you're gonna be with me for the rest of my goddamn life, you get it? i'm gonna marry you soon and we're gonna leave this piece of shit of island, and it's gonna be just us. none of those filthy friends you have, none else but me and you." he tapped your head with his fingers, he didn't blink during the whole time he was saying this. staring at you dead in the eyes. "i'm not joking when i say that i would kill for you, and that including you, baby. you're not gonna leave me, ever"

"i wish i never met you" you cried. immediately regreting, but your emotions were speaking louder.

the slap was so hard you felt like your face and ear was burning on fire.

"we're gonna wash that little pretty mouth of yours once we get home."

#rafe x you #dark rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx fic #dark rafe

[bucknastysbabe]

Ser Criston is OC Princess (Rhaenyra’s younger sister) sworn protector & is in love with her but he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help being obsessed and Rhaenyra hates it because it’s her little sister & so one night she asks Ser Criston to sneak out for a walk and they kiss & get caught by Rhaenyra idk

Hi yes I totally got carried away bc Criston has me in a chokehold rn. I hope you enjoy, I love the obsessed aspects. I also got to explore the other indications in F&B that insinuated Cole rejected Rhaenyra. Thanks for the ask🥰🥰 I don’t usually do OC’s but since it’s a Targ I mean I can only leave so much up to interpretation! But it was fun and diff

Rating: Mature

Tags: Forbidden love, unreliable narrator, Criston’s POV, oc-ish Princess reader, Sorry I made Rhae a bitch ugh, Criston’s snappy ass, Alicent is his bestie, masturbation, fantasies, dark Criston, virgin reader, clit orgasm, open ending, angst and pining galore, Religious Guilt, Harwin doing his best okay?, character study-ish, obsessive/possessive Criston

Word count: About 6k

@aemonds-holy-milk @aemonddtargaryen

Lucerra Targaryen, called Cerra, was oft said to be the spitting image of the late Queen Aemma. She retained more of her father’s demeanor, none of the resolute strength of Aemma and the fiery nature of young Rhaenyra. The fire that had entranced Criston once. He was told all of Cerra’s quirks when they made him her sworn shield.

He so much did not glance Rhaenyra’s way now, the burly Ser Harwin towering over the heir. They shared a kiss once, Criston ran, their close bond was severed. He knew down deep she coveted her uncle. It burned him, but he did his duty. The duty hanging around his shoulders like a lead weight— just cloaked in white wool. Criston found himself bewitched again.

The sweet Cerra, her gentle innocence and piousness. Something unmarred, not yet tainted by the world. The knight wondered if she was the maiden reborn, sent to test him. He prayed and prayed and confessed repeatedly to get rid of the wicked sin in his heart. Usually after touching himself.

Criston had always been weak when it came to the fairer sex. He’d fall madly in love like a boy and his first fuck. Just no fucking, more of the merest scrap of appreciation and touch had him by the vulnerable throat.

He coveted the young princess badly. Sometimes she would grab his palm when frightened, or on a walk to the Sept. Criston felt disgusting wondering how that soft hand would feel around his cock, the pale flesh clashing against ruddy. Cerra didn’t know, couldn’t know how weak he was.

Rhaenyra obviously knew of the metaphorical chink in the armor. She was becoming increasingly nosy of her sister’s doings as of late. He sourly thought to himself, ‘spoiled cunt couldn’t have me, of course she’ll make sure I part from her sweet sister.’ He frowned in annoyance at the elder’s recent interruption.

He’d merely helped her up to reach a flower in a tall bush. Certainly didn’t expect chaste Cerra to be so…close. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, startling him as she sighed, “You’re too kind Ser Criston, my white knight. What would I do without you?” She didn’t mean anything licentious, the Princess never did. Once a lordling flirted and she blushed to her ears and called for Criston to escort her away.

He preened about that for days. He’d heard the idiot boy scoff, “Stupid Dornish mutt.” Criston grinned and leaned toward the shorter lad, keeping his voice low. The princess shouldn’t hear such filth. He hissed, “This mutt would be glad to cave your fucking skull in with a Morningstar. Don’t come near the Princess ever again.” That was that. Back to his original thought.

At the moment Criston couldn’t help but sink into her soft gesture, pale white waves and lavender eyes gazing up as she laid her head on his chest. The brunette laid a chaste hand on her waist, but the moony look on his face was likely brighter than the Hightower’s beacon.

“My lady is kinder, no need to praise your sworn shield, merely doing my duty Princess.”

His cock was full to bursting at her sweet scent and wide eyes, framed by pretty lashes. Cerra closed those lavender orbs and inhaled gently, relaxing in the center of the Godswood. Criston’s hand thumbed little circles into her waist, feeling the princess relax more, leaning into his stronger frame, lips subtly parting.

“Cole! This is an unseemly position to be seen in with my sister if Larys’ spies are about,” Rhaenyra called with a smile and cocked head. Lucerra stepped back with a gasp, flush flooding her cheeks. She stammered, “R-Rhaenyra, no no, I w-was simply.”

“Simply what?”

Criston cooled his expression to state, “The princess was expressing her gratitude for me. Nothing more.”

Lucerra nodded, gesturing to the knight, cheeks still flaming and eyes downcast. She certainly wasn’t acting as if this was innocent. Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes and stepped forward to grab her sister’s hand. Casting a glare toward him she hissed, “I need her for the afternoon, you can wait outside the door.”

He stiffly nodded, anger flaring up in his chest so violently Criston feared he would yell at the heir. Instead he murmured, “Yes princess.” From a distance he trailed the two blondes, aggravated as all Seven Hells. Rhaenyra never paid attention to Cerra, especially since having her first babe. Damned bitch. Where was her loyal whore Harwin?

Waiting outside Rhaenyra’s chambers, Criston thought over her precious sister’s actions. He wondered what it would be like to touch her more. Graze over her sensitive neck, breasts, lower belly. She’d probably squeal if he suckled on a pretty tit. He inhaled sharply, catching himself on a low moan. Repentance would be in order soon.

Maybe he was being punished now— waiting outside like a mangy dog.

For hours.

Cerra came back out with a strange look, apologizing, “Sorry Ser Criston, that went longer than expected, I didn’t think my sister would want that much of the day. Shall we head to supper?”

He nodded, extending an arm forward. The princess was quiet, eyes flicking toward him a couple of times. Criston asked, “Yes princess?” Lucerra stopped on a dime and faced him, face close to tears. She warbled, “You’re not mad are you? I- I can’t deny family. Rhaenyra actually uh- helped. I was acting imprudent in the Godswood, I apologize for being wanton and brazen Ser.”

Oh. Criston blinked a couple of times. She was expressing more than mere affection? He wiped away her tear with a gloved hand, sighing, “No princess, I could never be mad at you, what’s in the past is in the past. You are anything but wanton, the picture of the maiden to me. Don’t let her scare you.”

She smiled, tipping forward on her feet some, eyes entrapping Cole easily. Then he was engulfed into a hug again. What had brought in this madness? He couldn’t complain, yet.

She breathed, “Oh, oh I was so worried you’d be mad. We should go to the sept tomorrow, yes?” The knight’s lips quirked up as he replied, “That sounds splendid my Princess, we shall go in the morn. Now let’s get you to dinner?”

She grabbed his hand again, practically skipping, chattering now about her time with ‘big sister’. Criston listened, he always did, but he needed to go jack his cock before going mad. Then wallow in guilt about it all night at the edge of Cerra’s room. She preferred him taking watch from inside her quarters. Such a frightened little lamb.

Wallow in guilt did he. While the princess slept in her grand bed, Criston couldn’t help but replay the shame in his head. As soon as he’d escorted her to dinner, he went to his quarters and stripped down heavy armor and pants. The man shuddered at the sensation of cool air hitting his achingly flushed cock.

He pictured the pristine Targaryen underneath his tanned body, writhing with pleasure. Criston spat on his hand and worked his prick, panting softly. Cerra’s doe eyes would be teary, overwhelmed with the pleasures of the flesh. She’d whine while he’d pump into her virgin cunt, “Oh, Criston, oh gods! Don’t stop!” The knight gasped and shuddered at the thought, groaning as he spilled all over his hand.

He blinked again, running a hand through his hair. Lucerra was awake, hair shining like silver under the moonlight. She spoke in a soft rasp, “Ser Cole, are you still here?” He laughed at her silly question, replying, “As always, can’t trade me out like the Cargylls.”

“Oh, good,” she pulled the covers off the bed and stretched, white nightgown pulling in the right wrong places, “I had a horrid dream. I can’t possibly go back to sleep yet.”

Criston frowned at her admission— it pained his heart to have her upset. He questioned, “A bad dream? What was it about?” She stepped onto the cold marble floor, shivering, shrugging on a thicker robe hung nearby. His eyes followed her smaller form come closer, curling up in a plush chair adjacent to his position. She wiped a hand across her face, still groggy.

“I can hardly remember now. I was alone, so alone, not even my dragon was around. I k-kept calling out for someone, probably you,” she pulled the robe tighter, “I don’t know. Maybe it was the wine.”

Cerra’s lips were drawn tight, brows pulled together. Criston wanted to pull the pretty girl onto his lap, she was still shivery. He thought of a decent response, something comforting. The knight settled on, “It was obviously a dream, I’d never desert you my Princess. That big white beast wouldn’t either.”

Her lips curled up to let out a tinkling laugh— making Criston’s sick heart skip a beat. Cerra replied, “Cloudwing is not a beast! She’s a good girl.” The brunette chuckled along with the Targaryen, smiling helplessly, such a lovesick dumb dog was he.

A beat of silence grew over them, heavy with something. The earlier revelation of Lucerra behaving with romantic intentions still lay undiscussed. Criston suggested gently, “You will catch a cold if you do not get back under the covers, princess. You won’t be alone, I swore an oath.”

One he would break if she just asked. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted that truly or not. He’d gotten quite far being the son of a common born steward.

She bit her lower lip and shrugged, “I’d much rather sit with you Ser Criston. I’ll be okay as long as I keep my feet off the dreadful stone.”

“Lucerra, please, shall I pick you up then? You need sleep, the Sept remember?”

Her gaze locked onto the white knight’s intensely. Lucerra fidgeted with her robe, the damn air growing heavier. Criston found it hard to think when she was being so confusing. She finally spoke, a meek whisper, “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

Lifting the blonde was easy, her squeak and grasp onto his shoulders adorable. Criston had to bat away more thoughts about how simple she was to handle. He laid her down gently, taking the coat she shrugged off. Lucerra grabbed onto his hand with a fervent tightness as he turned back to his chair.

“Please, don’t leave me so alone, I don’t care what Rhaenyra says. Just keep me warm?”

Her pretty face was achingly raw, open, eyes tinged with fear. Criston swallowed heavily. He was weak. He couldn’t run away this time. Didn’t want to run away, bask in the sweet sin. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe it was a test from the seven.

“Criston?”

“Yes, just, just- give me a second to get my armor off.”

Now he was shivery with want, warring with trepidation. Ridding his body of armor was horribly slow. The awkward clank of each piece coming off. Each heavy noise reminded him what he was potentially giving up. Soon Criston remained in simple breeches and a linen shirt. Lucerra pulled back the covers and smiled nervously.

He climbed onto the soft bed, pulling the blankets back over their frames. Unsure of what came next, Criston simply laid on his back and gazed at her. Lucerra murmured, “Must you be the pious one now?” He raised an amused brow at the bold comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean princess?”

She frowned and nestled into his side, wrapping an arm around him and tucking soft hair into the crook of shoulder and jaw. Criston exhaled sharply, unused to such intimate touch after donning the white cloak. He reached over to grab her leg, pulling it snug across his lower belly, thankfully out of the way of his swelling prick.

Cerra gasped against his neck, giggling, “Good, now I don’t feel like a concubine.”

“Concubine? Pfft. You’re white as snow compared to my cloak,” he replied.

“It’ll be our secret, I’d fear I would perish without my white knight. I swear it upon my heart.”

He couldn’t respond, lest it be something out of control. Instead he rubbed her back and knee, squeezing once in agreement with Cerra’s statement. Soon she fell asleep, softly puffing against his neck. Criston joined soon after, utterly content and warm.

The simple action of cuddling up couldn’t slake the thirst that grew within him for the lovely princess. They had remained chaste and he arose early every morn to get dressed and step back outside the wooden door. Lucerra would seek out touches in secret, holding pinkies with him, laying her head on an armored shoulder in the Godswood.

She would share smiles with the knight across the throne room, Rhaenyra’s calculating look upon the utterly obvious pair. Criston knew one could see into his bleeding heart if they looked into his eyes. The way Princess Lucerra grew tighter and tighter into his side around the keep, lavender eyes sparkling aroused many curious onlookers.

Rumors began to swirl. Criston reluctantly stood outside her chambers a couple nights a week. One night he encountered a poorly prying Harwin Strong. The fellow knight had made one too many passes and he called out, “Get your big ass over here!” He didn’t mind Harwin, but did mind being spied on.

The hand’s son looked sullen as he walked up to Criston, flicking down a dark hood. He gave a sheepish smile, apologizing, “Uh, you know, the girls want what they want.” Criston crossed his arms and deadpanned, “Your girl wants me expelled from King’s Landing on account of rumors”

Harwin gave him a look, disgusting pity lacing his features. Criston reiterated, “The girl remains pure, she looks to me as a protector, you know how easily frightened the princess has always been.” Somehow he felt like a liar. Still her pretty lips and cunt remained untouched.

“Sure Cole. Just be careful, you know what the punishment is of breaking your oath.”

Criston’s temper flared to life, taunting Harwin with a fake smile, “You be careful too now, two Valyrians making some beautiful brown haired babes is a bit strange no?”

Harwin shoved him into the door with a snarl. Breakbones’ power at full force knocked the wind out of Criston, but he wheezed a laugh. He was no better than him— just another lovesick fool. Strong rumbled, “Keep your damn mouth shut and I’ll stay on my side, but I know you got the princess primed for your dirty lowborn cock.”

Criston didn’t want to get his face pummeled in. The raucous already probably woke his sweetling. He gave another smarmy look and hummed, “Noted, Strong.” That earned the knight another shove and the burly man stomped off to lick the bitch’s teats.

The door opened behind Criston, a bewildered Lucerra in her robe. She questioned, “W-what was that? Are you alright Ser Criston? Come in, please.”

His dark eyes scanned down the hallway once more before stepping inside, sighing as she enveloped him into a warm embrace. Criston spoke lowly, “Big sister had sent her own shield to spy on me. We should be more careful.”

Lucerra frowned, lips setting into a pout. She murmured, “We’ve done nothing horrid. Yes, unseemly, but I’m intact. Turn around, let me get off this dreaded armor.” Criston appreciated her desire to learn how to discard his Kingsguard armor— although he averted guilty eyes from the way the Targaryen would carefully hang his cloak, like it still meant something.

As they laid together, she complained into his neck, lithe fingers playing with his inky hair, “You’re right, we should be more courtly, take more precaution. Of all of my sister’s misgivings, why does she care?”

Criston played dumb, it’s what he was anyway. Lied again and said he had no clue why Rhaenyra took such a deep distaste to the pair’s relationship. He sighed, “It will work out, more careful, yes. C’mon, to sleep, sorry about the noise.”

Another night in her arms was a blessing to Criston. He would be reluctantly busy the next day. The king needed a whole retainer for his appearance in public at the Dragonpit. It was the anniversary of Aegon’s landing. Luckily the princess would be in his peripheral. Along with the conniving heir and her other eyes.

It was a banal affair, King Viserys smiling and waving to the crowds. Queen Alicent held her youngest child, Daeron. Rhaenyra and Laenor were surrounded by her bastard brood, holding her own babe Joffrey. Named after that flimsy knight who Laenor was fucking. Poor sap died in the city under strange circumstances, likely Daemon’s doings.

Criston met eyes with Harwin, vaguely disguising a sneer. He ignored the brute and turned his vision back to the crowds, the smallfolk staying relatively easy. Lucerra stood next to her elder sister, holding Lucerys, her namesake. Her smile was gorgeous, a couple of boys cheered for her, throwing a flower.

After the public spectacle, the princess gave a shy smile to Criston on his horse, cheeks rosy pink before the door was slammed shut by the cunt Daemon. He raised a brow and hopped onto the front of the wheelhouse, offhandedly commenting, “Cunt struck and you haven’t even defiled my niece, Ser Crispin.”

The Dornishman clenched his jaw so hard he feared it may crack a tooth. He rode ahead, staying silent, Daemon didn’t forget a slight and surely hadn’t forgot when Criston embarrassed the rogue prince in tournament. Pompous ass.

More annoying feast and merriment kept the knight from his pretty girl. Lords and ladies filled the grand dining hall, dancing to and fro. He stayed put against a column, watching her. Lucerra wasn’t much of a dancer, but she let the old Sea Snake guide her around some turns.

A body sidled next to him, a familiar face and scent. The Queen herself, Alicent smiled softly up at him. She stated, “You’re distracted Ser Criston.” He sighed in return, “I’m sure you’re quite aware of the rumors. Seven cursed my weak heart.”

“Lucerra’s harmless,” Alicent glared toward the non-green side of the table, “It’s her lying sister, you remained truthful. I’ve been trying to stifle the rumors. Have you stayed chaste? I hope you have on account of your neck, my dear Knight.”

Criston leaned down to murmur, “Agonizingly so. I fear I’ve been bewitched yet again. Harwin Strong was sniffing around the other night.”

Her lips turned to a foul grimace at the mention. Alicent hissed, “The realm’s delight is carting around her bastards like trueborns and she’s deadset on potentially ruining her sister’s reputation to get at you.”

“Always been selfish, hasn’t she,” Criston laughed.

Alicent smirked, placing both of her hands over the knight’s. The green queen spoke plainly, “Please be careful dear heart. You’re a valuable asset to our proud dynasty.” The long-suffering redhead disappeared into the throng of people, ever an ally for him.

Back to scanning the surroundings. Daemon was spinning with Rhaenyra, likely talking horseshit in High Valyrian. He scanned for Lucerra, finding her cornered by the tables with a noble clad in the colors of House Darklyn, known bootlickers.

His chest tightened with jealousy. Criston seethed to himself, chanting internally, ‘I will not make a scene, I will not make a scene.’ The Darklyn lad was too close for his liking. It suddenly felt too hot under his heavy armor. He was close to the brink, gripping the pommel of his sword until his knuckles whitened.

Lucerra seemed uncomfortable, face uneasy and body stiffening. The Darklyn fuck was leaning into her space, lips undoubtedly spewing disgusting things a lady shouldn’t hear. The princess gasped at something he said and turned away, getting yanked back towards the man.

That was enough.

Criston stormed forward, shoving through the nobility, snarling in anger. He yanked the uncouth prick by the collar and dragged him far away from his princess. Parts of the crowd stopped to stare, Rhaenyra perking up to look. The princess blushed and excused herself, quickly finding another dance partner in the more palatable form of Tyland Lannister.

“What are you doing? I have done nothing to the King!,” the black haired teen spat. Criston continued to haul the boy past the columns to a quieter place, anger clouding any sort of judgement. He shoved the noble bitch against an alcove, gauntlet pressed against twitching neck.

Darklyn gasped and writhed for air, eyes wide with fear. Criston hissed, “The Kingsguard protects the family and the king. You should know better than to touch the princess like that. I ought to gut you, throw you onto the spikes of Maegor’s Holdfast and watch you rot.”

The stinking reek of piss filled Criston’s nostrils. He looked down in disgust, muttering, “Weakling piss-ant. Don’t dare come near her-,” his threat was unfinished as he was whirled to face Lord Commander Westerling. His face was hard and eyes flinty— obviously disappointed.

“Come Cole, we need to have a word.”

The walk was quiet and unsettling, only the clank of their gear and footsteps sounding off as they reached the quieter area of Maegor’s Holdfast. Criston apologized immediately, “My temper Ser, I apologize, he was manhandling the Princess.”

Harrold Westerling shook his head with a resigned sigh. He rumbled, “You’ve already toed the line Ser Cole. I don’t want to have a capable fighter like you dismissed or facing the black, gelded at that.”

Criston’s roiling emotions died down into a despairing state— his chest fluttering with fear. He nodded and held his head down in obeisance. Westerling continued, “You must take a step back. You’re of the most elite of elite men, a big step from your beginnings. Princess Lucerra is an enchanting girl, I know this is hard, but as soon as you took the oath— this is your life. You must cease all feelings for the girl or request to be transferred to another.”

Criston fought back the warble in his voice. He wanted to rip his cloak off and shout his love, make someone understand. He swore, “I know Lord Commander, I know. I have never defiled the girl, I would never. This is my calling and I’m shirking it. I’ll think about requesting an exchange.”

Harrold clapped him on the shoulder and regarded him with kinder eyes, “Good. I was struck too once. I had many princesses to tend to with Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s litter of dragons. Just, please, pray on it and keep it in line Ser Cole.”

“Yes sir.”

He sulked about, Harrold ordering him to his chambers until the was called to his usual watch over his Lucerra. Criston hoped she was alright. He guiltily turned dark eyes onto his shrine of the seven. The small flail and beaded necklace awaited. He had been ignoring the faith, so entrenched in sin Criston could hardly bare to look at the Mother’s cold face.

He prayed and prayed to the mother for relief of his twisted desire, depraved lust, uncontrollable need to consume a sparkling untainted virgin. Then to the warrior to ease his temper, make Criston a calm knight, not blinded by rage so he may protect accordingly. Down the list he went until the dead skull relief of the Stranger awaited.

“If I fail, take me into your arms and punish me accordingly,” he whispered, a couple tears leaking onto his armor, shining by the candles. He would confess another time and receive his penance. Bloodletting seemed fit. Flagellation made him think clear, the pain taking away sickness in mind and body.

A sharp knocking snapped Criston out of his religious wallowing. He called out, “I’m coming.” The door opened to the queen and Ser Rickard Thorne. They both were cloaked and Alicent’s doe eyes looked worried. The younger knight questioned, “What? What is it?”

Alicent shushed him and murmured, “Our dear Lucerra and…the heir,” she spat the word like it was bile on her tongue, “Had some intense words after the feast. Ser Thorne escorted Cerra to her chambers.”

Thorne’s gravelly voice was low, “It was quiet and I checked in as she was in quite the state. She’s not in her chambers and the servant’s passage was left slightly ajar.”

Alicent frowned, “I know she’s upset and frightened. I would rather you find her. No one knows of this. I doubt she would leave the keep but gods forbid. We checked underneath the keep and Thorne most of the passageways. I will keep this at utmost secrecy, dear Criston.”

He nodded, quickly gathering his gear and a dark cloak to cover the white of his garb. While fastening his belt he quickly thanked the pair, “I will find her now. Thank you my queen, Ser Thorne. You may rest now. She will be returned.”

He chastely kissed the queens ring, patting his fellow knight on the shoulder and strode forward, urgency at his tail. Criston was fearful, dreadfully so. What did Rhaenyra do? He bit his lip, worked his jaw, making his rounds around the shadows of the outer courtyard. The goldcloaks were obviously not doing their job, playing cards up in a tower.

He worried she finally broke the princess, told Lucerra of the past. She would be heartbroken. He sped his pace, deciding to check the Godswood. Somewhere she would still feel safe. He knew Cerra wouldn’t run anywhere outside the walls, she’d have a fainting spell.

Speeding up he decided to take a turn and clamber up the wall into the Godswood. He must not be seen. Especially after tonight’s mishap. Swinging a leg over the thick red stone, Criston shimmied down and landed with a dull thud. The clouds covered the moon— making it dreadfully dark. Lucerra must truly be upset. He swallowed down a tightening throat. He needed to be the protector, not a weeping craven.

He scanned around the dark trees and arches to the left. It seemed empty. He moved forward, keeping to the brush, listening. Closer towards the heart tree he heard the familiar little hitching of breath. His Cerra. The fear of what came next shivered his spine.

Criston called gently, “Princess, Princess, is that you?”

He slowly approached, holding out a hand like he was soothing a skittish foal. He could barely see her, just the white of hair and a shadow of a figure. He took another step, stopping when she wept, “No Ser Cole, go away, I wish to be alone.”

All of his fears had come true. She’d turned against him. He shook his head. No. This wouldn’t do. The knight would change her mind. Lucerra Targaryen needed him, not Ser Cole, not the loyal dog, just Criston Cole of Blackhaven’s marches.

“Ser, please, I cannot bear this,” Cerra warbled.

He came to her side, kneeling, swallowing another agonized noise when she turned from him. Criston begged, “Sweetling, what’s the matter, why are you distraught? It pains me.” She sobbed, hands wrenching into a now-dirtied dress.

The brunette engulfed her tinier frame into a tight grip, her back plastered to his. Much like they slept many a night. She fought and tried to wrench free, crying, “No! Let go! I’m just a replacement for her! I always come second! Ser Cole!”

He held tighter, exploding, “I love you!”

Her writhing stopped, eyes turning to him, confusion on fine features. Criston swore, “Bythe Seven and my oath, I love you more than anything Lucerra.” She shook her head, confused, “No, no you don’t, Rhaenyra told me why y-you became my shield.”

He hissed, “No, she lied, she lied lied lied! I kissed her yes, but I ran, I knew it was bad. I was an idiot— she merely wanted a fill in for Daemon. I swear it to be true,” he continued in a softer voice, “I never thought I would love so strongly and deeply as I do with you, it’s more than lust. I would worship you until my last breath, chaste forever.”

Lucerra bawled again, curling into him, soft thighs straddling his own as she wept. He held her and shushed and coddled, praising the perfect maiden’s presence. He dumbly reiterated, “Never, never has anyone taken my heart like you have.” Her bejeweled hands gripped into his cloak.

Her face was dangerously close to his, sweet scent filling the knight’s nose. She whispered in a rasp, “Do you mean it? You love me? I love you, it nearly broke me to hear Rhaenyra tell me.” Criston frowned, pressing his forehead to her own. He murmured, “I was dumb, I bolted after it was initiated. I didn’t tell you, b-because, I didn’t want to lose you princess.”

She placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart and said, “I believe you. I forgive you.”

Criston was so relieved he didn’t realize the tear leaking down his cheek, kissed away by impossibly soft lips. She whispered fervently, “Kiss me Criston. Kiss me like you love me, like you said.” He carefully caressed her jaw, peering into those adoring orbs.

He closed the gap, lips finally meeting, the Princess sighing into him. She clung to his chest still, passively letting Criston take the reins. He chastely shared tender pecks, letting Cerra get into a rhythm.

Her lips opened as the kisses got more desperate, boiling tension rising. She whimpered when Criston lapped into her mouth, moaning himself. She tasted like sweet wine and cinnamon, opening for him beautifully. Cerra wrapped her arms around his neck, thin fingers gripping his long locks. He moaned again, lashes fluttering. All guilt was out the window when in the embrace of this goddess.

He tilted her head to intertwine their tongues, Lucerra shivering helplessly, whining his name. She was shy, better for Criston to take her warm mouth. The princess plastered herself tight to his body, breasts pushed up from the movement.

He’d be good. He will not stain her maidenhead, as much as the dark part of him sought to claim every inch of her. The brunette slid his hands down her waist, squeezing soft hips. She mewled again, feverishly smacking her lips against him. Criston felt her overwhelmed trembling, eyes teary just like he fantasized.

She pulled away with a string of drool, panting, “I- Criston- it aches.” His cock jumped at what the implication of that was. He pressed little kisses down her jaw and neck, basking in her cute noises. He purred, “What aches Princess? I shan’t dare to hurt your heart again.”

She blushed so heavily he could see it even in the pitch of the night. Criston smiled gently, breathing hotly against her ear, “You can tell me, sweet love.” The princess shivered again, hips bucking fruitlessly against his garb.

“Y-you know. M-my,” she looked away, “My flower.”

The dog in Criston grinned at that, the innocent little thing. He hummed, “Have you soaked your linens Lucerra? I don’t have to breach your maidenhead to pleasure my sweet girl. Would you like that?”

She practically sobbed, “Please, my knight, Criston. Our little secret.”

“Always,” he said, taking off his gloves and Cerra’s trembling hands undoing the heavy gauntlets. He slid warm palms up her plush thighs, so soft yet strong from dragon riding. She desperately sought his lips to cover an indecent sound.

One greedy hand spread open a thigh, the other swiping thick fingers through her slick cunt, dragging upward to graze her swollen bud. The princess shrieked into his swollen lips, Criston doing his best to cover the noise.

He offered his free hand up, half-groaning, “Suckle on my fingers sweet girl, can’t have you waking half the keep up.” Lucerra shyly opened her swollen lips to let Criston’s calloused fingers in. He pressed slightly on her tongue, earning a cute little garbled whine.

“Now be good my love, I’ll make you feel better, always will,” he promised. Gathering more wetness seeping from her cunt, Criston circled his fingers around that bud, teasingly thumbing too, dragging the roughened digit against her tender untouched flesh.

She seized and cried around his fingers, drooling and sniffling. Criston cooed, “Mm, feels good Cerra? Made for me, swear it, keep singing for me.” He picked up the speed of his fingers, circling and pinching to make her squeal and writhe on his lap.

Soon the princess was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, unable to stop crying and shaking, thighs trembling. Criston suddenly realized his cock was throbbing and twitching, ready to fill his garments like a green boy.

He desperately rambled, “C’mon my love, let it go, let the pleasure take you, I’m so close, together yes? Kiss me, yes, yes!” They gnashed teeth and noses against each other, no finesse in these last moments, the little death.

She gushed over his fingers first, Criston swallowing her suprisingly quiet keen. His belly tightened, balls drawing up, whining out of his nose at the ecstasy. Cumming absolutely untouched, so intense and powerful. They continued to sloppily kiss, stop to pant, kiss some more until the climax passed.

Criston withdrew his hands from her cunt, wiping them on his cloak. The princess was sapped of energy, head tucked under his scruffy jaw. She murmured, “I think I saw the stars.” He smiled, the giddiness of cumming warping his senses, “Mhm, me too sweetheart. But we need to get you back to your quarters.”

He carried her, sharing more intimate pecks and nuzzling in the darkness, all the way back to her quarters. Ser Thorne seemed to sigh in relief before taking in their debauched state and quickly leaving the scene. Criston placed her down and looked around once more before pressing her into the door, taking her bee-stung lips.

“I love you, I love you,” she sighed.

“I love you more, my princess,” Criston praised.

“Do you listen sister? What will they think when they find your maidenhead shredded?,” Rhaenyra stepped out of the gloom. The bitch took a servant’s route. Lucerra’s face reddened in anger, “Like yours was? Good thing Laenor prefers the company of his pretty squires.”

Criston balked at the brazen comment, lips curling up. The elder sister’s hands balled up, pale skin blotching up in anger. She hissed, “Enjoy your night Lucerra,” pointing at Criston she added, “I’ll see you gelded and sent to the wall.”

The future queen whipped around and left with a furious curse. Lucerra looked to Criston for comfort, getting picked up and led into her bedroom. He grumbled, “The Queen won’t allow for that. Rhaenyra has her own secrets to deal with. Relax, relax, let me get you ready for bed.” His lovely girl did so, quiet but still affectionate. Criston ignored the feeling that this would be the close to the last night.

His gut was right. Within a fortnight he stood next to the Queen, tears in his dark orbs. Rhaenyra was absconding to Dragonstone, as she was the heir. Viserys obliged her request to take her sister, indicating she would begin the processes to marry her off. Lucerra gave her goodbyes, hugging the queen, her father, and then him.

“My heart lies with you always, I love you my white knight,” she whispered gently before stepping away to climb upon her white dragon. He remained stony, utter hate in his heart for Rhaenyra Targaryen. He would make sure she never saw happiness, just as she took his.

Alicent grabbed his hand and promised, “Criston, you will have her again. I may not be her, but I will be good to you as my sworn shield.”

He would tear through bone and marrow to get that chance. For now, he would wait, wait as long as needed. Criston Cole always got what he wanted, just had to work for it. There was a war brewing and she would be on the right side. His side.

#hotd fanfic #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole x reader #hotd fic #hotd smut #my shnookums incel knight #incel knight

[sherwees]

cw : trespassing, stalking, reader gets cut but not as bad as male main, sorry had to do the eyebrow slit, noncon, drugging, also very nasty ass descriptions of cutting but not in the self harm way, and implied stalking.

side note : hella unrealistic bcs how do you survive a wound that deep? I don't know. almost scrapped bcs of it.

side note ² : for my ski mask hendery queen @ne0pearl and the wall crawler 4 hendery @teasteeper

extra : why the hell did ki and angel try 2 jump me..?!

you were at a relative's house spending the night because you were on a trip, out of town. it was getting dark and you couldn't really see through the primarily rural area.

her house gave you the creeps, I mean their house wasn't even on google maps, it was just shown as trees. there would be creaks on the hardwood floors every once in a while but there was barely any service.

you could only play candy crush, but you got bored. so now, you're looking at the intricate ceiling pattern; you would switch to the wooden walls once your eyes started to hallucinate white whisps of shapes and lines.

but this time something was different, there was a hand on the side of the door.

it was sizeable, it wasn't your aunts, might be your uncles.

your eyebrows furrowed and your lips puckered in confusion, your hands headed for the edge of the blanket. you turned your body to attempt to see beyond the right side of the door but it didn't work to your avail.

it was lanky and veiny, a rough red around the knuckles; wasn't your aunts definitely but might be your uncles.

you laid back down.

but wait...? it was pale.

you froze, your eyes blew wide and darted to the slit in the door.

fuck. fuck. FUCK.

you were already at your feet, tip toeing towards the door like when tom would try to catch jerry but he'll just fall into another trap. as always. again and again.

you were a foot from the door now, your nerves jumped with every palpitation of your heart. before you knew it, your forearm jutted out and the door was shut. your shoulders bumped down with relief, see now? it wasn't that bad.. you sauntered back to your bed and plopped down, your lips blowing raspberries in exhaustion.

you don't remember when you fell asleep, but you were now awake. the white silhouette of the moon, peaking out of the blinds with every slight blow of the wind; your eyes heavy. you felt something prickle at your hips, it felt like a nail just poking at your side. you moaned in confusion and turned.

all you remember is seeing a glimpse of a man with a ski mask, his eyes were delighted as if he's been waiting. his hands attempted to travel to your hips before you fell on your ass, gasping for air; nails scurring against the hardwood floors before your back met the wall. you looked up at the male sauntering towards you, his coarse palms rubbing together like sandpaper.

“who are you..?”

“does it matter?” the baritone voice bellowed within the knocking of branches against the window.

he crouched to meet eye to eye with you. you winced at the cold of his hands against your warm cheek, tears caked between the narrow space of his palm and your warm cheek.

“whatever I did, I'm sorry..” you mumbled, you didn't realize the spit at the corners of your mouth until he swiped it away with his thumb.

“you're sorry for being beautiful, huh?” he whispered with a joking tone, slapping your cheek playfully. your lips fell agape at his tone, was this a fucking joke?

“what do you me–”

“that's what they always ask.. you just don't realize it until it's too late, huh?” the male questioned, his head tilted playfully. he hasn't blunk once at most, you thought that if you even took your eyes off of him for a second; he'll pounce.

“you walk around all naïve, stupid and just so fucking pretty, just like them-” he raved, his head bouncing around before he paused, he was looking at the ground before his pupils creepily looked back up to your dilated ones. your chest heaved, small rasp breaths falling through your agape lips; tears falling freely.

“you could blink now..”

you obliged, a small squeak eliciting as the pads of your bare feet scuffed against the ground; your spine becoming sore from the constant friction. “you saw me at your window every night, remember that a few weeks ago?” his pointer tapped at the side of your forehead. “you didn't even bother to call the police or maybe even tell your mom that was staying over that night..” his sentence trailed on, you noticed his hand reaching for something behind him; your lips formed words but the bulge in your throat wouldn't budge.

the silver edge of a pocket knife was suddenly pointed at the corner of your eye, you gulped like a caricature. “this knife–” he eyed the knife before looking back at you, one of his eyes twitched sickengly; your stomach swirled with apprehension.

“I don't even fucking need this–” you sighed in relief once the knife lowered, his thumb tugged at the bottom of the mask and yanked it off.

your eyes widened once his ebony hair fell from the confines of his mask to his nape, oddly gratifying.

his jawline was defined, face rather slender.. his eyes were big and doe, the noticeable slit on his right eyebrow. You went cross eyed because the knife was now in front of your face, it's edge poking against the bone jutting from the bridge of your nose.

“why didn't you say anything, hm?” he pauses, twirling the knife between his fingers. “I could've killed you.. maybe you both actually.” you didn't seem phased enough by his act, he glided the knife expertly horizontally against the bridge of your nose before slicing it perfectly. you gasped and blinked, your finger feeling around the cut.. your cartilage was smooth under the tip of your finger now that the thin layer of skin was cut.

“that's how fast it would've took to cut right through~” He continued the final sylabble of ‘through’ whilst trailing the knife from your face, your eyes followed until he stopped right at the left of your belly button; your stomach held in out of fear.

a warm blotch of blood slid down until it soaked into the lining of your pyjamas, he then swirled the knife around lightly as if he was scared to scar your porcelain skin any further..

“do you love me _____?” your ears rung through the silence, it was heavily unsettling and set another uncomfortable rhythm to your heart. He set the knife down beside him in a dismaying but also polite manner, his actions were so delicate but.. this is a stalker, we're talking about here. He pulled his right sleeve up his forearm, revealing a number of vertical scars; some were short, some trailed up his arm.

his unyielding eyes lock onto yours and with a sudden motion, he presses the blade against his forearm.

“wait!”

you gag profusely, covering your mouth with your cowering hands, a line of crimson quickly welling up from the splits of his skin. He doesn't falter or even flinch, he doesn't even wince either; instead, he angles the knife deeper.

you could taste the blood on the tip of your tongue, the metallic sense sending tremors throughout your body. You could only cradle yourself in the corner and you can hear the soft, sickening sound of flesh being sliced; thick and through.

as if he wants you to testify your supposed.. true love for him..

"please," you whimpered, you looked down at the blood pooling on your hardwood floor for a second then to his unforgiving eyes.

but he only continues, each drop of blood a punctuation mark in this gruesome act. he started to laugh maniacally at your terror, the knife lost track; becoming an uncoordinated lines of jagged lines with every jutter of his body with every laugh

“please, just fucking stop–! just stop it!—” a triumph smile forms on his face, his wild eyes locking with your panicked ones before his bloodied hands pull away; his hands raising in a surrender motion.

“It's not that serious..” you continued, looking down at the bleeding forearm; his flesh red and irritated.

he then raised the knife to his cheekbone with a throaty laugh, was this amusing to him?

“how about he–”

“no!” the knife skid against the ground before it hit the wall, your reflexes worked faster than your mind.

“so, do you love me?” he inched closer to you, his breath hot on your frozen skin. you nod vigorously, hoping he'll finally listen to you.

“if you do, will ya’ grab those bandages from your cabinet?” your face shrivels in confusion, “when you fell down the stairs and hurt your knee pretty bad.. a year ago..” he patted your knee with his grisly hand, the blood created a sticky trail between his palm and your skin.

your heart pounds in your chest, the beats echoing to your ears; the ambience of the home sets awfully in your soul. your breath comes in sharp gasps and hyperventilating sobs,matchung in rhythm with your scurrying feet against the floor. you're running, running to the bathroom, your mind stuck in the illusion of life or death, at least for him.

your hands are trembling, not just from the adrenaline that's coursing through your veins, but from the raw, unadulterated fear that evolved in your mind with every second.

you nearly slip on the smooth surface, your arms flailing to the counter for balance. you lunge for the cabinet, flinging it open with brute force. bottles and tubes tumble out, clattering into the sunk; but you barely register the noise, everything in your peripherals was blurry..

your fingers slick with sweat and his blood fumble desperately amongst the edges of shelves. you're simply looking for bandages, for something, anything, that can help stop his bleeding. when your hand finally closes around the familiar, rough texture of the gauze, you almost weep with relief.

clutching the bandages to your chest, you stagger to the mirror, catching a glimpse of yourself. your face is still with fear, almost ghostly, and your eyes are wide with shock. for a moment, you hardly recognize the reflection staring back at you.

you're wasting time, hurry up!

you ran back, he leaned against the headboard of the bed; his eyes on you. you don't even bother to complain about the blood on the grey bedsheets, you tear open the bandage packaging, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. you walk over to him and press the gauze against the gaping skin, looking into his eyes for some type of reassurance but he only continues to stare at you, observing your every move.

“you're prettier when you're scared.” you pause your ministrations and look up at him, your lashes dried together with your tears. his hand reaches up to stroke along the trails of tears on your cheeks, “sit on my lap honey, you're so far away, hmm?”

you scooch over with a sigh; your bottom on the heat of his crotch, your back meeting with his broad chest. trying to still keep your distance, you face away from him; you're almost there. just a few more wrap arounds, with every relaxed rise and fall of his chest, the tension between you both increased unsettlingly. this wasn't right..

just by coincidence, his chin slides onto your shoulder blade; from your peripherals you could see his inquisitive eyes looking back and forth to your focused own and his bandaged forearm. you sighed in relief once you finally finished, he snickered when he noticed the corners of your lips widen before you fully turned with a grin on your face.

“my pretty baby.. you did so well..” he praised you like a kid but you reveled in it, his tone smooth and low. “see? m’ not that scary.” he cooed, his digit moving towards the prominent outline of your labia. your plush thighs closed around his hand, your hips jutting away from him but the pad of his thumb traveled to the base of your clit.

“how bout’ you take these off for me, how does that sound?” his thumb hung loosely on your waistband, your mouth was parted, spacing out on his thumb.. “princess..?” he mumbled in your ear with a concerned tone, you nodded.. why was everything moving so fast..?

before you knew it, you were kicking off your shorts and panties.. it felt like you weren't in control anymore, your stupid mind was your only function.. but it wasn't you that was doing this..

“can't think no more hm?” he taunted, before a quick shiver of pain ran through your nerves along with something shooting out of your arm. he waved the syringe in your face with a berating cackle, your blown pupils following the metal tip as the drugs continued to take its effect.

you laid lax in his arms, his fingers pumping out of you relentlessly as his thumb abused your swollen clit. your hips rutted against his palm, that one finger hitting that same spot within your velvety walls with perfect precision. your walls clenched around him, your hands flying all over his thighs; you looked up at him and he looked at you..

“Is that you?” you mumbled, squinting at him. you knew that he seemed familiar, he was your uhm.. what was he? fuck.. your mind was blending into a fucking smoothie. his eyes went wide, his fingers pausing causing you to whine, buck your hips and wince in his hold. he muttered a quick “fuck”, his jaw clenching in the moonlight before he started to hammer his fingers in&out of you, you slowly slid out of his grip. your eyes roll back to the back of your skull, jaw unhinged.. he was trying to make you forget..

“babe, what'd I tell you about having your mouth open.. you're drooling~” he taunted you once more, his free hand moved your chin upwards.

“awe– fuck! I'm gonna cum, please!” you whimpered, your chest heaving up and down at a intense tempo; gripping his wrist whilst moving your head to the open crane of his neck.

“Come on then princess, cum for me.. you know you could do it..”

#ne0pearl deactivation party #teasteeper OUT #nct smut #nct x reader #nct hard hours #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #wayv x reader #kpop smut #nct imagines #wayv smut #hmmmm #nct 127 smut #smut #nct dream smut #HENDERRRRYYYYYEYYSUUZ #HENDERUYRYYRYEYYEYEYSYEY #I fell off my bed

[quick-catton]

Quick–Catton Masterlist

Saltburn Headcanons Sideblog: @saltburnirl

Masters of the Air Sideblog: @johnslittlespoon

AO3 & TIKTOK

Tags: EDITS | BRAINROT | FICS | ART | ASKS

Barry Keoghan Film Masterlist [All Links]

Always open to requests/ideas/brainrot asks. :-)

I do art/writing comms! Feel free to DM <3

ALL MY FICS vv

Let's Look Up At The Stars (I Like You Where You Are)

[SFW | 3K Words | Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, New Year's Eve, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Canon Divergence]

“What, d’you have a midnight kiss you need to get back to?” Felix teases, nudging his shoe against Oliver’s. Oliver shakes his head, exhaling a cloud of white and fogging up his glasses, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. Felix is starting to look cold too, now, but it seems like he has more to say, so Oliver waits patiently. Patient is easy, it means he doesn’t have to talk; he can do patient.

Get a Good Angle (Be a Good Angel)

[NSFW | 5K | Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, Friends to Lovers, Praise Kink Discovery, Teasing, First Time Blow Jobs, Slow Burn, Fluff & Smut, Drama Queen Felix]

“You always forget your sunglasses,” Felix says fondly as he holds out a pair of shades. “I brought a spare for you." Oliver takes them with a smile, relaxing back onto the towel and putting them on.

“Ah, good boy,” he jokes lightly, patting Felix’s arm in thanks as if he were a dog bringing him the morning paper. He senses him tense up, and he turns his head questioningly, but Felix just rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face into his folded arms. Weird.

Makes Me Wanna Dress Up For You

[NSFW | 4K | Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, College AU, Strangers to Lovers, Panties, Blow Jobs, Hook–up, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Anal Sex]

“These are pretty.”

Felix looked up and just about burst into flames on the spot.

“Oh my god, that’s not– I don’t– Those aren’t mine.”

They were very much his.

Boy, I'm Just A Loser For Your Love

[SFW | 3K | Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, 5+1 Fic, First Kiss, Fluff, Pining, Oliver Is In Love, Felix Is Oblivious]

“You’re just jealous,” Felix says playfully. Farleigh cocks his head to the side, a cool smile making its way onto his face.

“Jealous of what? That he won’t kiss you despite you giving him fuck–me eyes all semester?” The words roll off his tongue with ease.

Or: 5 times Felix kisses Oliver, and 1 time Oliver kisses Felix.

Why Don't You Figure My Heart Out?

[NSFW | 3K | Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, Valentine's Day, Oxford, Oliver's First Kiss, Gay Confusion, Making Out, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Frottage, Coming In Pants]

“There, there, Ollie,” Felix teases. “You’ll have your first kiss someday.”

“There’s no rush,” Oliver mumbles absentmindedly, not meeting his eyes, and Felix feels his world stop turning.

“What?”

#saltburn #cattonquick #felix catton #oliver quick #oliver x felix #saltburn fic #cattonquick fic #quick-catton fics

[gumjester]

whether or not i would fight the following eah students

im drunk and found this in my notes from 2021. 😭 I NO LONGER STAND BY SOME OF THESE OPINIONS. but most i do. a semantic sequel to this post

Raven Queen: no. hasn't she already been through enough? also i'd definitely lose

Apple White: yes. god yes. it would be so funny

Briar Beauty: maybe while drunk, but something tells me it would be a very bad idea

Ashlynn Ella: no. god, how depressing would that be? though maybe she'd have a chance if she went at me with a stiletto

Hunter Huntsman: yes, because it would be funny to see how he would try to avoid killing me instantly

Cedar Wood: no. what's the point? it's like trying to kick the shit out of a really polite coffee table

Cerise Hood: MAYBE IF I WAS FEELING REALLY MEAN. it would be funny in a similar manner to hunter, but with the added tension of me constantly going for the hood. i know ur shit cerise. don't play w me

Blondie Lockes: i consider fighting blondie lockes one of my primary life goals. i will curbstomp that bitch in the middle of her own livestream

Sparrow Hood: 100%, mostly for public spectacle. idk if i would win but I'm sure we'd have a wonderful time. unless he has his guitar on him because he would defo play dirty and just start swinging it like a mace

Duchess Swan: no thank you. ballerinas are strong and duchess stores anger like nutrition for the winter. she would break my neck

Darling Charming: i don't think so. depending where she is on public knowledge of her secret she'd either purposefully lose or just wipe the floor with me. awkward all round

Dexter Charming: maybe, because i think if he gave it a proper go he'd win and i feel like that would be good for his self esteem

Daring Charming: yes, because i know i'd win if i straight away went for his face. bust his lip open. it would humble him

Lizzie Hearts: no ma'am. maybe i'd fare better in hand to hand combat but i can't imagine she'd keep any less than four knives on her person and lizzie is not the type to hold back. im heading straight to hospital

Kitty Cheshire: no. it would be humiliating. i can't see how i'd even get a hit in

Maddie Hatter: absolutely not. i have no qualms with her whatsoever, also she'd definitely kill me by accident

Alistair Wonderland: sure, why not. i want to see what all that time in apocalyptic wonderland has taught him, and whether it cancels out his status as a fucking nerd

Bunny Blanc: no, because i don't want to go to jail for homicide. she is a 5 foot nothing rabbit who can barely stand up by herself. she'd die if i poked her with a toothpick

Chase Redford: NO. if he didn't want to fight he'd just silently let me hit him for like an hour, and if he was About It then he'd instantly fucking annihilate me. just leave the boy alone

Courtly Jester: I KNOW I'D LOSE BUT IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. I HAVE TO FIGHT HER. i might even have a chance if she wasn't allowed to pirate any dark magic

Humphrey Dumpty: i feel cruel for even thinking about this. he's a skinny gamer with a physical predisposition for getting hit. it would be like shooting fish in the most depressing barrel

Hopper Croakington II: NO. HE IS MY FUCKING BOY AND I'LL PROTECT HIM WITH EVERYTHING I HAVE. also i could just flirt and then stamp on the frog

Faybelle Thorn: yeah sure. this may sound egotistical but i'm pretty sure i could win if magic wasn't involved

Crystal Winter: yes. the bitch would trip over her own shoelaces and knock herself out

#adventures in the notes app 2night!!!! im putting off writing true hearts day so hard #ever after high #eah #raven queen #apple white #briar beauty #ashlynn ella #hunter huntsman #cedar wood #cerise hood #blondie lockes #sparrow hood #duchess swan #darling charming #dexter charming #daring charming #lizzie hearts #kitty cheshire #madeline hatter #maddie hatter #alistair wonderland #bunny blanc #chase redford #courtly jester #humphrey dumpty #hopper croakington ii #hopper croakington #faybelle thorn #crystal winter #was possessed by the determination to tag all the characters

[therosehost]

ShuririWeek: D1

Fluff + "Don't Go"

cw: allusions to nsfw content

Shuri doesn't hear the humming at first. She's too frustrated.

She isn't Queen, nor is she the heir anymore, but the Elders hold her hostage in meetings and at inane ceremonies for hours as if she still were. It grinds at her skin like sandpaper.

Especially because Shuri knows why they do it. They care. They've watched Shuri grow from a glimmer in her mother's eye to a white-draped shadow by her casket. The elders care for her, Shuri knows this. But that doesn't make the overbearing attitudes any less irritating.

Today's latest antics had involved them - particularly Elder M'Kathu - insisting that every member of the council attend the Prayer of the Hymned Beetle. Shuri had wanted to throw her chair out the window with herself inside.

That biannual prayer had started in the river tribe as a joke ceremony. It was just an excuse for people to be off from work and drink themselves to incompetence.

It had never been taken seriously, that is, until Elder M'Kathu got it into his head that Shuri singing the Hymned Beetle's lament would somehow make her happier.

HA!

By the time Shuri escapes (just barely) and returns home, she's still wallowing in incredulous anger. She doesn't hear the humming, but when she yanks the bedroom door open she definitely sees the dancing.

Riri, as usual, is beautiful. And she's even more so as the golden silks she currently wears make her glitter in the setting sun.

Positioned in the center of the small garden's inner courtyard, Riri's prayer forms are uncertain. Sometimes her knees don't bend all the way they're supposed to. And at one point her arm doesn't extend to the full ninety degree angle the instructions scrolls describe.

But that doesn't matter because of why her beautiful talented dedicated genius girlfriend is praying. Or rather, to whom.

Shuri knows the prayer that slips low and careful from Riri's lips. She knows every note and syllable. It is her mother's funeral hymn. The Honor of Ramonda's is a celebration of her mother's birth and life, and a bitter bemoan of her death. There's a promise there at the end, humming with a grief that Shuri knows in her heart will last all her life.

She had poured her soul into creating a prayer dedicated to her mother. When Riri sings it, Shuri almost wants to cry.

It's beautiful. Her girlfriend is beautiful. Her girlfriend singing the prayer is beautiful.

Shuri moves forward, past the door where she's stopped in her tracks, and stops only a foot away. Riri's robes swirl around her, a red whirlpool of gauze that stops short when Shuri comes into sight.

Riri watches Shuri with wide eyes, lips parted to express her surprise.

"Your form is all wrong," Shuri says and then wants to shove a fist in her mouth. Damnit.

Riri puts her hands on her hips and laughs, her blouse rising up at the movement. "How are you this awkward?" The skin of Riri's stomach peaks out. Shuri stares. The blessed oils make the skin glisten. Shuri bets if she steps closer she could smell the spiced lotuses.

"I'm not being awkward." It's a distracted mumble instead of the annoyed tut she intended but Shuri can't bring herself to care. She wants to lick Riri.

Riri narrows her eyes, crosses her arms under her breasts, and gives a fox like grin when Shuri licks her lips. "Oh, you not?'" she laughs again. "Then what would you call it?"

Shuri pouts. "Giving constructive criticism, of course".

"Criticism." Riri says the word slowly as if tasting the letters. "I think I've heard of that before but I'm not real familiar. Why don't you stop hovering over there and come show me."

It sounds like an invitation to fight or fuck. Shuri is willing to do either or both of it means she can touch her girlfriend. But-

Shuri shakes her head and moves back towards the threshold. "I want to let you finish though."

"I thought my form was shit?" Riri raises an eyebrow.

"It was, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see you pray." Shuri's words are a lovesick trill.

Riri snorts but presses a hand against her own cheek like she does when she's trying to stop blushing "Nah, see, now my feelings hurt. It was supposed to be a surprise but I don't even want to do it anymore."

"Ok, I apologize. I take it back. Finish the prayer."

Riri hums, rocks back and forth from heel to toe, and then reaches for the towel on the stone bench behind her. Shuri flails.

"You have completely mesmerized me and I want to watch you dance forever," She almost gets on her knees. "Please please please finish."

Riri clucks her tongue, watching Shuri with a sly smile as she backs away. "Naaaah, I lost the motivation. Maybe I'll go hire an instructor instead."

Shuri huffs, rushes forward, and catches Riri around the waist. It startles a laugh out of Riri and Shuri huffs again. "Don't go. I'll help you. We'll pray to my mother together. Just, please, dance for me." She makes her voice as soft as her heart feels.

Riri cups Shuri's cheeks, rubbing a thumb under her eye and kissing her. It's a light brush against the lips really, but it's enough to send Shuri's heart into a frenzy in her chest.

"If you're so desperate," Riri says, her voice is sultry, smile teasing, "then I guess I'll entertain you a bit."

"Yes. I am very desperate." Shuri nods firmly.

Riri wiggles out of her hold with a groan. "Don't do that. I feel guilty for being mean when you get all earnest and shit."

"I like to when you're mean to me though."

Riri groans again and throws the towel she'd dropped at Shuri's head. "Shut up and help me already." Her plush lips form a pout around the words.

Shuri laughs and catches the towel. "Anything you want, my love."

"Uggggggggh. Please stop!"

a/n: this is rushed as shit and mostly unedited. but, ya know, fuck it. i really wanted to participate in shuririweek at least one day so here it is!

@shuririweek

#shuririweek2024 #shuririweek #princess shuri #riri williams #shuriri #bpwf #:::rose be writing::: #mostly unedited and rushed like hell

[circemme]

The break-up that destroyed Nagi’s heart (he’s being a drama queen)

You're tired of Nagi's behaviors and break his heart.

FLUFF, curses and written in 15 minutes

“She said it like that my treasure?” asked a sceptic Reo to his best friend. Nagi Seishiro have been stuck in his bed for two days straight, only taking a five minutes bathroom break per days, and refusing any contact with the outside world. Luckily for his body, Reo insisted on having a spare key of his flat, forcing him to eat at least twice a day and to stay a little hydrated. But to be honest, even if he was his best friend, Reo was having a hard time taking care of the white-haired boy, who only recently started to talk again after giving the silence treatment to everyone who might have wanted to talk to him.

The purple-headed had been surprised when he called you after he realised that Nagi was avoiding his texts for an abnormal amount of time: the both of you weren’t together anymore, and if he wanted to understand, he’ll have to ask his friend himself. He did. Without success… until a few minutes ago. And while Seishiro was complaining about how cruel you were, Mikage couldn’t help but feel sorry for you and everything you went through.

Nagi’s version of the break-up was that you decided you didn’t want to stay with a loser like him.

Knowing the both of you and your dynamic, Reo quickly understood that tired of dealing with your boyfriend’s laziness and shit, you’ve reached your last straw and thew your last card. If Seishiro refused to take care of himself and his surrounding, yourself included, a little more you refused to continue to deal with his bullshit. Sure: you hoped he would realise he was being immature and that he was getting too old not to be able to take care of his basic needs. His reaction didn’t meet up with your hopes.

The worst part of it – you thought after Reo reported Nagi’s version to you – is that you did not even intend to break-up with him at first, you just suggested the both of you might need a small pause. It wasn’t working, and you started to think that it might be forever.

You did not even realise that tears had been staining your cheeks until you felt a presence in your back, near the doorframe. You quickly tried to whip them away with the back of your hand, but he saw your movements.

“What are you doing here, Nagi?” you asked with a small voice.

“My sweatshirts.” Another tear escaped your eye. Taking a break what something, but him getting back his stuff… It was really the end, he made up his mind and decided to act, but apart from you. You shouldn’t have done this like that!

“Do you need me to wash any of your clothes?” he asked with an awkward voice. “What the fuck!” you cursed, not being sure if you understood him well.

You felt him getting closer to you, sitting beside you in your bed but at an anormal respectful distance. “I thought… I mean Reo helped me realise what you were meaning the other day, and I think the both of you are right. I cannot always be a burden for you, or even for him. I need to change, I want to.”

You didn’t even know how to react, too surprised to form coherent thoughts. The atmosphere started to get a little more tense as Nagi waited for your reaction, but you were so confused. Not even sure if that meant…

“I want you to take me back. And I’m going to prove you that I worth it” suddenly said the boy, standing up, kissing your forehead, grabbing random clothes on your chair and getting back from where the fuck he came, under the surprised look of your mother who never saw him so energetic.

Suddenly as you heard the door being closed, your gained back your senses and ran to your window, screaming “You’re fucking mine Sei. I hope you enjoyed our little break, ‘cause that was the last!”

#blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro fluff #nagi fluff #seishiro fluff #nagi seishiro x reader

[soft-for-them]

Being a Lannister - Game of Thrones x plus size reader

Summary: Headcanons of being the youngest Lannister daughter and sibling. The reader is the daughter of Tywin's second wife though there is the rumour that the reader isn't Tywin's child (up to reader to decide because I'm not going to be one of those fuckers who write just for white people by making the reader a full sibling.)

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/n: Is this that good, meh. I'm I still trying to get used to writing for the GoT characters, yes. So sorry if this isn't the best dfghjkhgf.

. Tywin Lannister loved Joanna with all his heart but sooner or later people would have begun pressuring him to re-marry and that they did.

. Now Tywin wasn’t the type of man to get peer pressured to marry again by anyone, even by the king, he was never going to re-marry just for the sake of marrying and he knew he would never love anyone more than he loved Joanna.

. A proud man Tywin was, the type of man who shifted his focus on to marrying off his own children rather than finding himself a new bride.

. The sneaky noblemen who paraded there scarcely legal daughters around Tywin thought that he’d fall for their beauty but those men where shunned and judged just enough by the widower so that the women in pretty frocks sent by their money hungry fathers came less and less.

. But alas, Westeros is a place of ever changing kingdoms, Kings and Queens coming and going, wars waging on, people hungry for power through any means necessary.

. So when it came out that Tywin Lannister, the cold hearted leader of the house of Lannister, was re-marrying it came to a shock to some and long time coming for others.

. That’s where you come in.

. There are many rumours about you, some good, others bad but let me tell you dear reader your name will go down in history.

. Now whilst it isn’t good to dwell on rumours there is one that stands out, one that you’ll never escape no matter what you do.

. You see before you were even born, rumours of whether or not you’re a true Lannister ran ramped.

. Some say your mother was already with child when she married Tywin, others say that such noble woman couldn’t even have known about sex for she was so pure of heart so she wouldn’t have been pregnant.

. Regardless, your mother and Tywin where married and you were on your way.

. It was a small wedding but one that showed power to the few that attended, it was a warning to anyone who would try fuck the Lannisters over not to, for Tywin didn’t marry your mother for love or an heir, he married her for an upper hand, for political power, for people to see he could take whatever he wanted even if that was your mother who was a mere lady, the daughter of a small lord who just so happened to own a lot of land.

. Tywin knew of the pregnancy rumours straight away; he was never a fool about the chatters of the maids and cooks who commented on his new wife’s growing belly, he saw the looks of the guards and the other noblemen, he had heard of your mother’s past lover and his deadly death.

. None of the Lannisters where ever close to your mother, she was merely a pawn in a big game of chess, a trophy wife who only the poor found to be pretty and the noble found too plain - rather your mother was more like a trophy left on a shelf to gather dust, useless to most.

. You brother Tyrion had told you once when you were little and sad about having no mother, for your mother passed away when you were just a toddler, that you mother did not care for the Lannisters either.

. He told you in hushed tones that she spent most of her time alone embroidering mythical scenes onto cloaks and staring out into space, your brother had told you that she has a wondering mind filled with what he assumed were thoughts of what could have been.

. Her kindness only stretched out to her handmaid, sometimes to Tyrion himself if the weather was right and of course to yourself.

. Her distance was noted by Tywin, maybe that’s why he always tried to be in your life as much as he could.

. He may have been a cold man but somehow he had a soft spot for his youngest daughter and knowing that he tried with you, even if it was all for nothing in the end, always made you a bit of a daddy’s girl.

. As soon as you were born the old man protected you like a lion with his cub.

. Honestly, he never cared if you were his or not, it was blatantly obvious to everyone if you were or not.

. Tywin had your mother’s land, he held her in his iron grip, she was nothing but she gave him so much that only death could take her away.

. So when she died when you were just a toddler you, bastard or not, you were left to the nannies and handmaids.

. When you were little, old enough to walk but young enough that your legs got tired easily, you followed your father and you siblings around like a lost puppy because the maids and nannies did not care for you and you were too young to be sat in one room all day without fidgeting and having a tantrum.

. In those times if people saw Tywin all stern and stoic walking down the corridor there would always be a little chubby you plodding along behind him in your little frilly dresses with a slightly worried guard behind you.

. Now I might have over exaggerated how much Tywin was around, for yes you did stick to him like glue, however had meetings and other lordly stuff to do.

. So yes, you were with the nannies most days but sometime your father would whisk you away.

. I was quite easy for the head Lannister to pick you up and take you away from your lessons so boring and long.

. Sometimes he’d tell you grand stories of past Lannisters. He never left out details of war but he focused on strategies and political things rather than tales of decapitations and impaling.

. Sometimes these stories shaped like fairy tales filled with real world knowledge came when you followed behind your father other times, on the rare occasion, he’d tell you bedtime stories.

. Tywin would also show you the creatures he’d hunted and killed teaching you how to gut and skin the animals.

. Now you might think showing a child a dead animal and teaching them how to skin them would be scary, and yes you were scared of it as a child, but that’s the thing Tywin was never an idiot so he planned it accordingly.

. Days before his hunt he had told you, you only six at the time, about a creature lurking in the woods killing men travelling and stealing their little daughters. None of the story was true but he wanted to plant the thought that the bear he was going to hunt was the bad guy, he wanted to justify to his sunshine daughter that killing the bear was justified.

. Things like that were fairly common, stories and tasks that where shown to teach you a lesson, to mould your brain into something Tywin would be proud of because he hadn’t do the best with his first three children.

. Each one of your three older siblings treated you differently.

. Jaime Lannister was, dare I say, awkward around you. He was well into his young adulthood when you were born, the age gap between siblings was way too big so he never really talked to you, he was never around you.

. Now it’s not like he hated you (unlike a certain twin of his) but you both were too different for the conversations to lead beyond small talk.

. You were, and still are, a plus size woman with wit and brain, a woman who stands tall and proud but has differing opinions to the Lannisters before her. Jaime was a knight and a man stuck in the web of his sister-lover’s lies.

. Still there was a respect between you both, he protected you like older brothers should and you liked the person he became when he untangled himself out his twin’s grasp even if it didn’t last that long.

. Speaking of a certain twin let’s just say you’ve never like your older sister.

. Well let me rephrase it; she’s always hated you so over the years your distaste for her has grown.

. When you were little and wobbly on your feet you’d look up to her tumbling blonde hair and sharp face and think she was truly a princess but her destain towards you the ‘bastard’ child made her mean and harsh.

. She’d poke at you for being plus size, commenting on what you were eating or even taking food away. Stuff that like would make you angry so you’ve grown and learnt not to take her shit.

. “Take this away, she does not need more food.” Cersei would say when a plate of food was placed in front of you.

That day it was only you, her and some other high born ladies eating lunch and because of her being older (literally she was an adult by then and you still a child) she thought she had the power to take away you food.

Now being used to her you took the plate right in front of Cersei’s face her meal filled with rich foods and expensive produce easily gobbling it down with a smirk.

. She’s also do that thing old sisters do when they insist to do your hair.

. Now if you had the same long straight glossy blonde hair that she had then maybe just maybe you’d let her do your hair more often but considering you hair was much different to hers you had dreaded when she wanted to do your hair.

. She’d brush until you hair got fizzy and dry, pull on your roots until it was painful and she'd clip so may heavy hairpieces in that you felt like you head was going to tumble off onto the floor.

. Now when you were older you flat out refused to let her on step near your hair but as a small four or five year old you could never run away from it.

. She did it on purpose, she liked seeing you hurt but she knew that flat out hurting you with her fists of a knife would get her in trouble.

. All her anger and hatred towards you never made you as angry as her, actually you pitied your older sister so much so that you marvel in the fact that you’d never be as miserable as she was in her life.

. (I'm not going to get started on your relationship with her children.)

. The only sibling you really liked was, and still is, Tyrion.

. Where do I start with Tyrion?

. You see Tyrion was already grown when you were born so there was never any real jealously towards you that he might have felt if he was younger and more angry.

. Yes, it still hurt him that his father loved a so called bastard more than him but his wise mind knew that he must protect you, stop you from becoming like his older siblings.

. He taught you many things, often people would find you both reading together.

. If you followed you father around like a little shadow when you were younger than in your teenage years you followed Tyrion around like one too.

. Just imagine it, a taller plush young woman maybe fourteen or fifteen in a full golden gown following behind the shorter gruffer Tyrion like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

. A curious mind you are and Tyrion finds that endearing.

. You’re one of the first people to stand up for him, and without any consequences considering Tywin’s deep love for you.

. People know not to speak ill of Tyrion in you presents for if they did then hellfire would rain down on them.

. You’re a Lannister after all, you might be kind and wise but there are stories of lords with sword scars and ladies who hardly spoke because they crossed you by speaking badly of Tyrion.

. Often you’re sat next to him as dining tables and royal events, if the man turned up to these types of things.

. You’ve learnt may more things from Tyrion, important things that has helped you survive when other Lannisters have died, unlike the stuff you’ve learnt from your tutors boring and simple.

. There was the normal ‘lady like’ lessons taught to you by tutors like sewing, knitting, music and a number of manner lessons but you were also taught politics and writing, mathematics and the sciences, along with how to ride a horse and handle (and hide) a knife.

. There’s no denying that you are a true Lannister by the way you are; you’re a woman who stands proud but are still secretive, with long flowing dresses rich and almost Queen like that flattered you plush body. With the power to change things with just one pointed look and the wit to not die.

. You survived to see the crowning of Barn Stark, you survived and aren’t hated, actually quite the opposite you are loved.

. Though there are more tales to tell of you (Y/n) Lannister those are for another time.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #cersei lannister #cersei lannister x reader #tyrion lannister #tyrion lannister x reader #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #x plus size reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader

[rosesocietyy]

Brilliant people have said everything that needs to be said about this much much better and I don't got anything substantial to add but I just have to get this off my chest cause y'all I'm still in disbelief

like this is a grown ass person btw oh I simply have to laugh😭

this perfectly exemplifies literally everything cringe af and wrong with these "assigned welcomers". this is just my scapegoat but there are way worse I've seen

First of all, get a job. how, at your fossil age, do you have time to spend all day scrolling through every single iwtv related post and arguing with people who say anything even slightly damning about lestat (which mind you, is literally just objective facts about things he did). I'll dm you a McDonald's application hell I'll even put in a referral for you out of the goodness of my heart.

Second, Lestat is not a real person. he's fake, a made up character, the figment of someone's imagine, non-existent, people hating him will not affect your life in anyway shape or form. He didn't assign you as his PR agent I promise you'll live. "They'll never accept him" ok and?!?

Question, and I'm genuinely asking, is this their first time in a fandom? why is someone having a different opinion about a character they love enough to send them into hysterics like?? 13 year olds on anime twitter have a better grasp on reality that y'all do get a grip!

And like the above posts have talked extensively about, I most definitely noticed whose posts a specific bunch of them love to go under to share their dog shit "explanation" that nobody asked for. When a black person sees Louis being brutalized by his white lover what do you expect their reaction to be? oaur wow this white french slut is so pussy cunt slay period queen? "but louis is flawed too" do you hear yourself? do you listen to yourself when you speak? can you activate the barest hint of brain activity to understand why we would react differently to what we're watching than you would and that knowledge of the source material has nothing to do with it? Just because you read those shitty books and posses no empathy for black people in media doesn't mean you gain some higher understanding of "gothic romance ".

"No but the thing is you don't understand this is a gothic romance and they're supposed to be monsters and lestat has suffered saur much and he's also the real main character so you must love him" so now how exactly does that negate their point about him being an abuser? quickly! sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up when black people are sharing their thoughts on the show cause who the fuck are you fr and what convinced you that you have the right to argue with them about THEIR experiences. that tweet that said white people act like God left them in charge, yeah.

Funny enough, half the people that are so gung ho about him now didn't even fw him at all when they only read the first book. wow it's almost like you were allowed to sort out your feelings about him on your own without insects disguised as people in your mentions calling you slow for not licking his feet.

I despise so much in this fandom. From the bottom of my heart I really truly do. I don't know what I was expecting, I guess more common sense and maturity because the average age in the fandom is quite high compared to other fandoms I've been in but nah, just mfs screaming and crying bc ppl don't jump up and down and scream yipee! everytime their white fav commits abhorrent, disgusting crimes.

I was so caught up in the euphoria of an anne rice property finally being given to skilled creators who'll pick it apart and say something poignant with it that for a moment, I forgot I lived in a world where majority of its audience would sadly be the anne rice crowd.

#gag is the first time watchers don't even hate lestat as character #they all think he's brilliantly written #but because they're not calling him mother and liking edits of him to club music #those roaches have decided to take personal offense #interview with the vampire #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #amc iwtv

[xiarranyork]

I'm So Sorry But It's Fake Love

❄️ zayne (love and deepspace)

❄️ angst (ig??), first person pov (zayne to mc)

❄️ contains: references to zayne's (mostly foreseer) lore (+ bts's bangtan universe lore, but you don't need to know it before reading this) (context notes at the end of the post for better understanding)

❄️ i wrote this shit...and it's my idea...common sense, don't steal it

"널 위해서라면 난

If it was for you,

슬퍼도 기쁜 척 할 수가 있었어

I could pretend that I was happy even if I was sad

널 위해서라면 난

If it was for you,

아파도 강한 척 할 수가 있었어

I could pretend that I was strong even if I was hurt

사랑이 사랑만으로 완벽하길

Wishing that love is perfect as itself

내 모든 약점들은 다 숨겨지길

Wishing all my weakness is hidden

이뤄지지 않는 꿈속에서

In a dream that can’t come true,

피울 수 없는 꽃을 키웠어

I raised a flower that couldn’t bloom"

"-My queen."

"-My beloved bride."

Why must you be my poison as much as you are my oxygen?

Here my mouth is, uttering a wish that we never crossed paths instead of declaring my love like that. If they were in my place, no new chapter would follow the words they uttered.

But because I never failed to find you in every life, and my heart never failed to call for you in each one, my body suffers the consequences once more.

And as long as it keeps your heart beating, I'd do it again. For the same you, next life. The same you, in every life.

If only you weren't someone I could reach but not hold on to.

If only I didn't need to bury my love within the body of a snowman, behind a face, just so we wouldn't see our graves.

If only after every "I love you" wasn't an end other than a happily ever after.

Then all the jasmine buds could finally become blossoms, and eventually, blooms.

Then, like them, we could be lovers and still have a tomorrow to see.

Then, like them, I could call you something more dear than your name.

Then I could call you, the one who holds what was once Astra's power in her heart, my goddess.

But what does my heart hold? Definitely not my love that was plunged into the jasmines. Thousands of them have to carry it for me. But among those thousands, maybe with this one, you could detect my love, despite it having to be shrouded by the unfamiliar white, blue, and purple; sincerity I could not deliver.

For unlike this thriving smeraldo that you now hold in your hands, the never-blossoming jasmine bud amid them is real.

My love is real.

Context notes ‼️

Smeraldo flowers are FICTIONAL, not real flowers. If you want to learn more about them, you can check out the legend, "La Citta di Smeraldo" and BTS's song, "The Truth Untold."

but tldr, smeraldo flowers mean "sincerity that could not be delivered." this made me think that if jasmine flowers weren't Zayne's flowers, smeraldos would have been perfect for him imo

even tho ik the contexts don't perfectly match Zayne's lore...i mean...unlike in the legend, Zayne couldn't love MC ('deliver the truth') in peace because there's a dipshit PROHIBITING him from doing so

so anyway i imagined MC getting this bouquet from Zayne, smeraldo flowers with a jasmine bud hidden in the middle as a discreet "i love you" because fuck astra

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lnds zayne #lads zayne #li shen #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x mc