#&̲. ² main — lips of honey‚ eyes of fire.

[adamanteine]

prompt. @literare.      “     you have never been like the others, and you never will be.    ”

there's no helping the small smile that begins to form across her face. she feels almost foolish, noticing the giddiness that builds inside of her chest as she tries to shove it all down again. leave it to zain to make her feel as careless as she does now by saying almost nothing and everything. “  hm?  ” she simply hums in question, hand moving to remove her headpiece: it was heavy, made of many diamonds and two emerald pieces at the front. very pretty, she'd say, if she wasn't the one wearing it. sometimes those pieces felt peaceful [ green being her family's main color ], at other times, it felt like an additional weight on her. as if she ought to show her family's pride in some way, since she's lost her wings ages ago. “ do you think so? ”

she already knows his answer to her question. only his answer, of course. and by the grace of all she stands for, he might as well be the sun. he's gentle and kind, far too sweet for her. and perhaps she only thinks so because of how she is not used to any of this at all, but he fits perfectly just where he is. she wants him here. “ sometimes i worry that i perhaps am just like them. ” she says, then. and usually, what she's about to say is something she can only think to herself, but she finds it easier with him: “ what if ... with all of the things i do to be so different from all of them, to make an actual impact with my people, leads to me being just like them? ” there's a start of a change, of course, but what happens when she can't continue leading as she does?

she sighs. she knows why she's thinking of these things. she's had a meeting with a few of the lords of narbarad and look what she's gotten herself into now. all she wants is to avoid thinking of it for a while. shams closes the last shred of distance between them, stepping further into zain's space, her fingers hesitating before reaching out to hide her face between the crook of his neck. the princess hopes he doesn't notice, but she almost pouts. she moves her fingers to gently trace a few lines across his back and she notices her heartbeat steadying again. “ i'm tired, zain. these lords sure do give me such a headache sometimes. ”

she stays still, not moving just yet, enjoying the little moment before she steps back, moving her hands to hold his. “ let's go make something to eat. i want to go away from here, just with you. ” her head tilts, eyes unmoving from his as the same smile from the start begins to come back.

[hellishjoel]

chokehold

1.6k / pairing: tattoo artist daddy dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi

chapter summary: Joel teaches you how to face fuck. 

chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, unspecified age gap, established relationship, reader is described to have hair and is able-bodied (but otherwise, unspecified), swearing, dirty talk, smut, lots of pet names (sweetheart, angel, little bunny, etc.), dacryphilia (kink = getting aroused by tears), dom/sub dynamics, innocence kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, face fucking/oral (m!receiving), size kink

A/N:  very lightly edited, but I wanted to give a little love to joel and little bunny since the third chapter is taking me some extra time! divider is by @firefly-graphics! and always a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this over and endless encouragement <3

Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head, slow and steady, because that’s just the pace you’re taking him. 

Facefucking is still experimental to you. He’s your first partner, and you’re nervous to impress. 

What you don’t know is that Joel would never judge your inexperience. All sexual pleasures involve trust, praise, and a little direction.

Joel stokes your hair affectionately, growing more possessive as he gently guides your mouth up and down his thick length. 

You can feel the power shift as your knees dig into the floor, eyes hesitantly meeting his while you try to take more of his shaft. You want more, you’re willing to push your limits. 

Joel seems to sense your loss of inhibitions, your twinkling eyes meeting his whiskey ones. 

“Want me to use that pretty little mouth of yours?” Joel’s words vibrate through the room. He pulls his cock from your lips, smearing his tip from one corner of your mouth to the other as you catch a breath. His warm pre-cum slips onto your tongue, and all you crave is more. 

Watching you desperately try to get him past your parted lips again is enough to force out a dark, low chuckle. 

“Wanna hear y’say it, baby.” 

Your impatient whine and eager hands on the back of his thighs make you beg, “Please, Joel,” in that wrecked voice that he loves so much. 

Joel presses his hips forward once more, watching his tip slip past your puckered lips and back into the hot heat of your mouth. “Yeah, right where I belong, huh, baby? Right where that cock belongs.” Joel’s hand comes to cradle your face, tracing the bulge of his length against your cheek with a sinister smirk. 

The further he pushes on, your tells start to show. He admires the way your eyelashes flutter, gagging and coughing around him but insistent not to let yourself off. A stray tear slips down your cheek. He collects it with his thumb and brings it past his lips, tasting what you give him. 

“Even your tears taste pretty, sweetheart,” he mutters predatorily, watching as your eyes blow wide, shyly moaning against his length. 

“When it gets to be too much, try to stay on. Swallow around me,” Joel gently nods his head. “Go on.” 

You obey, swallowing around the thick trunk of his cock, throat feeling a little looser now. You’re oh so willing to take on the discomfort just to please him. Anything for Joel, because he’d do anything for you. 

As his hips pick up a lazy pace, Joel encourages you to drop your hands from the safety blanket of his thighs. Like the good girl you are, you ease them to the base of your spine and lay one wrist over the other. He’s tied you up in that position more times than he can count, allowing Joel to take control and use you as he pleases. Such a good fucking girl. 

Tears pool along the top of your cheeks, the sight of glassy eyes igniting a fire deep in his belly. The overflow of saliva trickles out along the corners of your mouth, pooling down to his length and soaking the coarse hair on his balls. 

Joel watches as you shift anxiously on your knees, eyes pleading because somehow you want more. 

“Oh, honey,” he drapes in a degrading tone, stroking your hair away from your wet face and letting you catch a breath as his hips halt. “Need more, don’t’cha, doll?” He drawls, cooing softly as you lay your head against his thigh. Your orbs lazily look to him and nod weakly, still measly sucking on his tip. 

You bravely flick your tongue along his tip’s sensitive slit, toying at the idea of getting a rise out of Joel. 

A hiss is released past his clenched teeth, his whiskey eyes turning wild. And then you do it again. 

Joel’s hips jerk like that of a bucking bull. His hand in your hair turns to a fist, causing you to clench your eyes closed at the scorching prickle along your scalp. Joel scoffs as you fucking moan against him. 

His grin turns wicked, twisted at the thought of you enjoying some rough love. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, aren’t ya, little bunny? Yeah, bein’ a damn brat,” he chastises, watching as you frown around his tip and sucking it insistently. “Think m’gonna have t’finish deep down that pretty throat of yours, make ya choke on it,” he remarks as he repositions your head with a newfound need to punish.

Joel gathers your hair into two sets of pigtails, fisting them between his large palms. He watches you struggle to stay upright and drags you into position. “Keep that cock in your mouth, don’t let it go, sweetheart,” he gripes as you struggle to maintain him. It almost feels like a twisted game the way he nearly slips loose from your heat. 

Your mouth was full, jaw aching for a break that was nowhere in sight. Your fingers intertwine to keep them locked at the very base of your spine, whining nonsense against his cock. Soaking wet and dripping onto the hardwood, your pussy clenches around the ghost of what is currently occupying your mouth. 

You wanted to touch yourself so fucking bad. The self-discipline it took to keep your hands together makes your stomach churn. Your pearl twitches with enthusiasm, drenched in your own arousal. 

The muscles in your thighs are tight, your chest heaving and causing your bare breasts to rise and fall at a quickened rate. The overflowing spit that drips down from his balls lands on your chest. Joel can’t seem to stop staring at the gleam. 

Your nose brushes against his thick pubic hair as he buries your face against the base of his stomach, and you sputter up a cough. Lungs squeezing, throat tightening, you will yourself to swallow around him and stay right where you are. I’m yours, Joel. Please, take me, use me. 

“Fuck,’ he growls upon yanking you off his cock, smirking widely as you gasp for lost breaths. “Love that goddamn throat,” Joel mutters before reaching past you and pulling your hands to the front of his thighs, which quickly form a home for you. It’s grounding, to feel him, to feel his blood pumping through his body, and etch mine on the inside of his upper thigh mindlessly. 

“Got me so close, honey,” he starts, and you’re already eagerly nodding. Joel brings his thumb to your throat and slowly circles one spot against the column of your flesh. “Wanna feel myself right here, think you can do that, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes soften at the depth he wishes to go, but you’d do anything for him. You nod shyly and drop your jaw, flattening your tongue just for him. Always for him. 

Joel’s pace is gentle at first, working up a rhythm that has your throat molding perfectly around him. You gag each time he thrusts all the way, knowing when to swallow and when to breathe, Joel has taught you this new erotic art. 

The saliva dripping down to the base of his cock greets your chin repeatedly. You hollow your cheeks around him, and he moans naughty filth. 

“Such a pretty slut for this cock, make me feel so fuckin’ good- god damn,” Joel pauses with his length fully down your tight throat, grinding himself against your mouth as you clench your eyes close and gag. Joel places his thumb on that sacred spot against your neck, and he can feel his tip bulging against the column of your throat. You’re so fucking full of him, and it’s enough to make him spill. 

The hold he has on your hair tightens, scalp prickling as you cry out along his length. Salt bitters your tongue, weakly swallowing back load after load of his warm, thick finish. You swallow around his length and moan lowly, all muffled and messy for him as he crashes harshly through his own concocted orgasm. 

Your nails etch half-moon shapes into the back of his thighs, keeping him there, pushing for him to cross the finish line. And it was all for you. 

Tears of happiness stream down your face as you let him finish painting your throat, releasing with a dramatic pop as you do your best to swallow every last dribble. You’re careful as you give his sensitive tip a few sweet kitten licks. His hands are at the ready in your hair as he hisses harshly, ready to control you if it’s too much overstimulation for your poor old Daddy. 

Sponging kisses down his softening length, you lay your head against his thigh, and he cards his fingers through your hair. A soothing hum leaves your throat, fluttering your eyes closed as his thumb comes along to brush away the stray tears. 

It’s easier to ignore the throbbing between your legs now that Joel has found peace. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you listen only slightly as he begins to coo gentle affirmations for you.

Joel holds your hands and helps you stand, your arms already tiredly linking around his neck as you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he whispers, “always make Daddy so happy, you know that?” Your head bobbles loosely. His sweet remarks make your muscles even more pliant in his arms as he easily sweeps you off your feet and moves you to lie across the bed. 

Joel takes all of you in. Sweat glistening along your temple, parted lips lacquered in spit, the extra effort it takes you to swallow, how perky your nipples are, and the slick that’s all but made a mess down your thighs. 

“Shit, she’s so pretty f’me,” Joel whispers as you grin weakly.

“My turn now?” Your wrecked voice squeaks, to which Joel slowly nods, helping you pitch your legs up on the edge of the bed.  

“Your turn now, little bunny.”

[forever-rogue]

Hello 💌 it's missing Eddie Munson hours here. Can I request a fic where the reader is the new girl in town? New to Hawkins high and accidentally sits at the hellfire table (cause obviously she doesn't know it's reserved 🤭) and gets all flustered once eddie and the members come up and tell her. All cute and fluffy ☺️

AN | I am weak for this concept!  Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You clutched at your tray nervously, looking around the cafeteria in search of some place to sit. Everyone had paired off as soon as the bell for lunch had rang and you were basically left in the dust. Most of the tables were crowded, and no one was even sparing a look in your direction. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes and threatened to well up, but you swallowed them down and started to look for an open spot. 

After a few moments of trying to make yourself look small you found a few open spots at one of the tables towards the back. With the most miniscule of sighs to yourself you took the seat at the end, and hunched in on yourself, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible. Upon settling in, you reached into your backpack and pulled out the book you were currently reading and dove in. 

It was enough to suck you and before you knew it, you were lost and off in your own little world. But then, you heard a loud throat clear among curious little titters. You startled and snapped your book shut, looking up to find several pairs of wide eyes studying you intently.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to figure out what was going on, “ummm…hello?”

“What are you doing here?” it came out as more curious and probing rather than angry but it caused your heart to thump wildly nonetheless. He looked young and had dark, floppy hair and gangly limbs. 

“I-I couldn’t find anywhere else to sit,” you admitted sheepishly, “and no one was here so I thought it was okay. I’m so sorry-”

“Wait, you’re the new girl, aren’t you?” you turned to the boy with the dark curls under a hat; they all seemed kind but nonetheless it all made you nervous.

“Yes,” you offered them a tight-lipped smile “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’ll go so you can have your table back.”

Standing up, you tried to grab your backpack and throw it over your shoulder in order to leave and run as far away as possible. Mortifying wasn’t enough to cover how you were currently feeling. Before you could get very far, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and stop you from getting away.

“Stay,” the voice was different from any of the others you'd heard so far, honey sweet and warm. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to find another stranger looking at you curiously.

"Uhh…" you were dumbfounded as you looked at the handsome boy standing in front of you. He had dark, wild curls and big brown eyes with a soft smile tugging up the corners. You looked down to where he was still looking onto you and noticed several tattoos peeking out of his shirt, "umm…"

"You're new here, right?" He asked as you nodded dumbly. You were shocked that you hadn't noticed him before - he was so different and unique that he stuck out like a sore thumb, "shit sucks. But seriously, c'mon and sit with us."

"Are you sure?" You allowed yourself to look at the boys; they looked just as shocked as you, "I don't want to intrude."

"I insist," he gave your arm a squeeze before letting go and motioning for you to sit back down. One of the boys gasped lightly as you slowly sank down in the hard plastic shirt. The boy sat down to your right, "hope you don't mind hanging out with the freaks and geeks."

"N-no," you relaxed slightly as everyone sat around as well, "not at all."

"I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson," he held his hand and you shook it, offering your name in response. Your entire face felt like it was on fire as you forced yourself to look away, "welcome to the gang!"

Alright, maybe not everyone in Hawkins was terrible.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After that first afternoon where you met Eddie and his friends, you started to feel more and more comfortable in your school and within yourself. You noticed that Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had seemed floored by how easily Eddie took to you. You didn’t think anything of it, as you had no prior knowledge of any of them to go off of. Nonetheless you appreciated all the kindness that was being thrown your way. 

The next day, however, you weren’t sure if you should just automatically go to their table or wait for further invitation. You’d brought your lunch, brown paper bag crinkled from your anxious twisting, and slowly walked to the table at the back. It hadn’t been lost on you that many people seemed to avoid their table, and a few that did walk back made some nasty comments under their breath. It hurt your heart a little bit because these were the only people that bothered to show you any kindness. 

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you looked at him with a nervous little smile. He cocked his head to the side to the chair on his right, watching as you slipped into the hard plastic, “surprised to see you here again.”

“O-oh,” your cheeks warmed under his warm gaze and you wished you could sink into the ground and melt away, “should I not be here?”

“No, no, no, I just meant…I’m surprised you’re back,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the cafeteria and you almost squeaked when you noticed the rings on his hand. They suited him perfectly, “we’re not exactly the most popular crowd around here.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly too popular either,” you shrugged, catching his eye and exchanging a nervous chuckle, “I think you’re the first person to give me the time of day. No one else has even said anything…they all just kind of stare. I feel like a thing more than anything.”

“The people around here…are the worst,” he put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand as he studied you intently, “tell me about you.”

“I don’t think there’s much to tell,” you shrugged sheepishly, popping a few crackers into your mouth in order to have an excuse to remain quiet.

“Everyone’s got a story,” you felt him nudge your knee with his under the table, “what’s yours? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

And that was an offer you couldn’t refuse.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Over the next couple of weeks, you found yourself growing closer to the gang, but more than anything their enigmatic leader. 

It hadn't taken long to figure out the hierarchy of Hawkins High School, and it was easy to figure out that you were on the bottom of the totem pole. Compared to the other kids, seeing how they were and interacted with one another, you had no clue being part of the outcasts. They were the only ones that seemed real and genuine. 

The worst part of it, or the best depending on how you looked at the situation, was Eddie. You were drawn to him, wanting to know more and more about him, which felt dangerous. You already knew that you'd both be graduating in the spring and then leaving, and that he was on 3rd attempt at his senior year. Those two things in and of itself were more than to make you weary.

The rest of it - Eddie - was wonderful and had you feeling a type of way that wasn't possible. You liked his style, his hair, his personality - all of it. The issue was that you had no clue what he thought about you, or how he felt about you, if anything. Maybe he didn't even think about you at all, besides the hour and change he spent with you at lunch and breaks. That idea didn't settle well in your stomach, even though it had no right to. Eddie was just-

"Everything alright?" You almost slammed your locker shut as you startled at the sound of Eddie's voice. You sighed dramatically before turning around and finding him leaning lazily against another locker. He turned to you and offering you a devilish little smile that caused you to roll your eyes, affectionately of course, “what’s wrong, sunshine?”

“Edward,” you drawled out his name and he groaned at the use of his full name, “you can’t go sneaking up on people like that! I could have had a heart attack!”

“So dramatic,” he tutted, reaching over and tucking your hair behind your ear, “if you weren’t so busy daydreaming, you would have heard me calling out your name. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you blurted out way too quickly, and you swore he gave you a knowing little look, “just…stuff and things.”

“Stuff and things,” he echoed in an amused tone as you nodded, your face warming up. Despite the fact that students were all around you, loud and noisy, it suddenly felt like it was only the two of you. He had a way of doing that, you’d learned, making you feel like you were the only thing that existed when he was with you, “very descriptive.”

“I…umm, nothing in particular,” you weren’t about to admit that you’d been daydreaming about him to his face. Not voluntarily anyway. 

“Well, I was wondering if you were free tonight,” your eyes widened in surprise at his question. He laughed - nervously - and ran a hand through his dark curls. It really was such an innocent question, you were absolutely friends by this point, but it felt like it held much more weight.

“Did you need help with homework or Hellfire or…something?” there had to be a logical explanation to all of this. Surely….right? Right?

“No,” wrong. Very wrong.

“Oh…what is it then?” you squeaked at him and he grimaced for a moment. He was definitely nervous.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie and made get pizza or something after?” he was biting the inside of his cheek, finding the dirty laces of his Reeboks so interesting suddenly. Eddie Munson didn’t do dates; he didn’t get asked on them and he didn’t ask anyone else. Usually it was only girls that he dealed to that wanted to hook up, but those were quick, illicit affairs never to be spoken of again. But with you…everything had felt different right from the start.

When you remained silent for a few moments, he started to panic but then you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “j-just the two of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Like a…date?”

“Yes?” he allowed himself to steal a peek at your face and when he saw nothing but exuberant joy on your face he relaxed, “yes.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip for a moment before slowly nodding in response, your entire face felt like it was on fire, “no one’s ever asked me on a date before.”

“What?!” he turned to you now fully, pure shock and confusion on his face, “you’re not serious!”

“Eddie,” you were laughing now, a beautiful sound that went straight to his heart and often was the soundtrack of his own daydreams, “I’m being serious! No one’s even really looked at me that way.”

“Well, everyone has been so very wrong,” emboldened, he put his hand on your face and gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, “and in a way I’m glad for that because it meant I got to be the first to do it.”

“Hmm,” you hummed softly before gently wrapping your fingers around his wrist, “and to answer your question, yes, I am free. For you, I’m always free.”

“Wow,” you weren’t sure if he was talking to himself or to you, but it was endearing either way, “great - perfect. Umm, can I pick you up at seven?”

“I’ll see you at seven,” you confirmed softly, heart beating so wildly in your chest that you marveled at the fact that it wasn’t bursting through your ribcage, “don’t be late, Edward.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine,” he grinned in response, “see you at seven!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were ready to go well before seven, and ended up nervously pacing around your bedroom. A slew of clothing was on your bed, as you had undergone several outfit changes before finally settling on a simple pink checkered sundress and sandals. You checked over your hair and makeup so many times you were starting to get sick of your own appearance. 

Every time you heard a car driving through the neighborhood, you pulled back the curtain to see if it was Eddie. Which was silly, considering you’d been in his van and knew what it sounded like. But still…the nerves were getting to you. 

By the time he actually pulled into your driveway, you had started reading a new book in order to occupy your mind. You’d gotten so lost in it that it took your mother knocking at your door to tell you that your little boyfriend was here. All you managed to do was groan in response as you threw your book to the side and grabbed your bag before running downstairs. Your parents had met Eddie a couple of times already, when he’d come to pick you up for school or drop you off, and surprisingly, they didn’t hate him. They liked him, knowing that the fact that he looked and dressed differently had no bearing on the type of person he was. And Eddie was a good guy, despite what a lot of Hawkins seemed to think. 

Once you got downstairs, you found Eddie near the door, standing there nervously with a small bundle of floors in his hand. He looked up as soon as he heard you softly calling his name; his brain practically melted at the sight of you. You were always pretty - the prettiest in his kind - but this was just another level up from that. 

“H-hi,” he stammered, holding up his hand in a meek little wave before remembering he had the flowers. You took a few steps closer to him, leaving just a little bit of distance between your bodies, “you look lovely.”

“Thank you,” the two of you exchanged shy smiles, “you look good too, Eddie.”

“Thanks,” his stomach fluttered with butterflies; no one had ever said that to him before, “these are for you.”

“You didn’t have to…they’re so pretty!” you gently took the flowers from him, but before you could stop yourself you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. You stopped when you noticed the pink, glittery gloss print you left, but the two of you giggled as you wiped it away, “want to know something else, Eddie?”

“Tell me,” he trailed after you like a lovesick puppy as you walked to the kitchen to grab a vase for your flowers. He watched your every move like a hawk, noticing how you did everything with gentle reverence; it was the same way you always treated him.

“No one has ever given me flowers before either,” you set them on the counter, admiring how pretty they were, knowing they were from Eddie made them that much better, “you keep surprising me without even knowing what you’re doing.”

“I like surprising you,” he admitted softly, and you vowed in your head then and there that you were doing the same thing for him, “I like seeing that smile on your face.”

“Stop,” you gasped lightly before trying to hide your face in your hands, feeling yourself grow warmer and warmer with each passing moment. He shook his head and gently pulled your hands away so he could look at you, “Eddie!”

“I mean it,” he insisted softly, and you knew that he was being honest. You nodded softly and felt him reach for your hand, “c’mon, I have…well another surprise for you.”

“Another?!”

“Well, either we could go see the movie and then get dinner as planned…or we can go on adventure,” he suggested and you practically lit up, “I figured since it’s Friday and if you’re okay with being out a little late, it could be a lot of fun.”

“And let me guess, I would not be privy to any of these things we’re doing until we’re doing them?” your voice was soft and teasing but Eddie nodded eagerly. How very classic of him, “well, just how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“You don’t….”

“I don’t,” you agreed and Eddie cheered happily, already gently pulling you towards the door. He looked like an eager puppy more than anything and his enthusiasm was infectious.

“Get ready for an evening of excitement, m’lady!” he opened the door and brandished his arm, and all you could was to grin at him. He was such a dork but, you were starting to quickly realize, he was your dork, “you are about to embark on adventure!”

“I couldn’t think of anything better,” and your words made his heart melt, “c’mon m’lord, let’s go!”

At the foot of your steps he paused for a moment to look at you. You grew nervous, but as soon as he leaned in to gently kiss you, everything felt right. You kissed him back before he could pull away and you were both grinning like fools.

You’d never been more glad for sitting in the wrong spot before.

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks. 

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway. 

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you. 

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator... 

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk. 

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer. 

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such. 

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined. 

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different. 

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her. 

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment. 

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger. 

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails. 

And finally, he answers. 

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat. 

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning. 

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder. 

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary. 

But, you don’t. 

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile. 

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms. 

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting. 

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk. 

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever. 

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“ 

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth. 

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp. 

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead. 

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla. 

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.” 

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.3)

W/C: 3.1k #SFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, mentions of death, yuuji has entered the chat, gojo has entered the chat, idky this got sad tho lol

A/N: This bit made me very sad please suffer thank you!!! Also the main story will be wrapping soon (I think next part will be the last part?) and then after that, it'll probably be drabbles! There might be a 'sequel' that touches on the culling games tho because b r u h they've got some down time during that arc so hfhfhfhfhghghf imagine what I could do--

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

A strict no-contact order had been placed on Yuuji, and, subsequently, Sukuna. Neither were to come into contact with you while you recovered, and neither were to be alone with you considering the control-slip incident. 

Still, the curse had been rampant in the young man’s mind, constantly pacing back and forth just behind his consciousness, waiting patiently as a predator should for Yuuji's guard to go down. Granted, even if Yuuji was caught by surprise, it'd still be near impossible to overtake the peppy twenty year-old. Sukuna didn't have an explanation, but it was what it was. 

He would have gladly seized control now, when you'd somehow managed to slip away from your recovery prison and get comfortable in Itadori Yuuji's bed. Sukuna would have slaughtered everyone at the academy for a second to touch you again, to breathe you in.

But the brat finally realized something was off, and woke to find your head tucked under his chin, his arms slung across your waist. Your breath fanned across his collarbone, tickling the sorcerer's touch-starved skin and feeding the fire burning in his cheeks–Sukuna, though, didn’t seem pleased his host was the one touching you. Yuuji counted that as a victory. 

Suck it, dickhead.

Hm? A stranger’s voice rippled instead of the king's. 

Yuuji jolted, his blood growing cold for a second before recognizing that voice–it came from that tidal wave of memories. But it didn't tick him off the way Sukuna's did. It was…nice.

Uh…you can hear me? Yuuji wondered. He tried to envision his voice as loud and clear as possible to help it reach you. 

Your brows twitched in your daze. Yes, I can hear you. There's no need to shout. 

Oh. Sorry. Uh, how'd you get in here? 

The door. 

Oh. Cool. Yuuji shifted a little. I'm not really supposed to, y'know, make contact with you or–

But you're warm. Your nails lightly dragged across his back, leaving trails of tingly pinpricks dancing across his skin. Yuuji swallowed a moan. God, why did the littlest touches feel so nice? 

Y-Yeah? My grandpa used to say I ran hot. Like a furnace or somethin’. 

I agree. You burn like firewood. And you smell warm. Like cedar and honey. You stretched languidly, and the younger stayed put, not strong enough to pull away from your praise and touch. Your teasing fingers raked through his hair daintily, and this time Yuuji did moan. Just the slightest bit before he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip. 

You leave me wondering how you taste. 

“What?” Yuuji squawked. Your eyes lazily opened a crack, seemingly put off by the sudden break in room silence. It gave the sorcerer an opportunity to admire the golden glints of divinity hidden in the hue of your iris. 

But he found fear in that moment, too. Yuuji knew what most didn't–the curse sealed inside of him thought you to be his equal. You were the only beast Sukuna would bow before, the only one whose attention he craved and sought in his reign. 

You were, in a way, a king yourself.

Do you think I'll eat you, Yuuji? 

“I–uh–you–well–” Yuuji fumbled exceptionally, choking on flustered words. “I just--Sukuna ate people, right? So, uh. Maybe you did too?” 

You looked him over for a moment. Your gaze traced the cute curve of the younger's nose, the petite fangs worrying at his bottom lip, the caramel swirl of his eyes. He looked so much like Sukuna. It made you wonder. 

I've eaten humans, yes, You agreed, nonchalant. Do you want me to eat you?

“Eat me?” Yuuji deadpanned, unsure if he should feel just bothered or hot and bothered. “I, well–”

No. Sukuna’s voice cut like ice through Yuuji’s mind. For a second, it scared him. It reminded Yuuji of what exactly Sukuna was. What he’d do. 

So what would you do?

“Hey,” Yuuji started, suddenly calm, serious. “Why’re you on Sukuna’s side? You don’t seem like a bad person.”

You took a deep second to think before sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. Your tails curled weakly around your clothless frame, swallowing up any spot a young man’s curious gaze might wander in the secrecy of night. Maybe you’d been in this situation before. 

“‘Good.’ ‘Bad.’ We all have different definitions.” Your voice rattled and scraped out your tired throat, yet you didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I do what pleases me: garden, sew, eat. Sometimes, I may cause harm in the process. I care sometimes, and I don’t others. Does it make me evil to choose what I care about?” 

Yuuji’s head started to ache. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up with your fancy, archaic way of speaking, but he was sure as hell gonna try. 

The younger sat up, too, and ruffled up his hair. “I mean. Don’t you wanna try to, y’know, not hurt people? Not cause harm, ‘n stuff?”

“Is fire wicked? Or does it simply exist?” You posed. “In the control of man, it is sacred. It cooks food, illuminates the dark, cloaks you with warmth. Yet it burns down trees. Swallows homes. Devours crops. Kills.” 

You looked at Yuuji, rose-wrapped eyes resentful of something the sorcerer could not know. “Man regards fire as a blessing when controlled, yet it is a curse when it runs free with nature–existence, the black and white of the world, is in the eye of the beholder.” 

Yuuji didn’t like how much that made sense to him. Objectively, Sukuna was bad. He killed. He murdered for fun. He ate people–

Yet your words, your pretty way of speaking and philosophies gave Yuuji pause. It didn’t click, despite igniting grim sparks in the cogs hidden far behind his eyes. He already made his mind up about good and evil, yes and no, white and black, and yet–

You poked him in the forehead, between his eyes, and Yuuji blinked. 

“It’s merely food for thought, Yuuji.” Why did you know his name again? “Don’t burden yourself with making decisions or anything of the sort. I suppose my answer was long-winded in regards to your question.” 

“Yeah, kinda,” he laughed, rubbing his cheek. “But, uh…it helped, I guess.” Yuuji pulled your hand down from poking him. “You don’t think Sukuna’s bad,” he concluded.

“I think he was a force of nature.” Your head tilted. Your eyes softened. “A monster to some, a god to others.” 

“‘N to you?”

Your eyes caught the morning light, iris reflecting with waking embers. 

“He was everything.”

Gojo thought you were pretty in the same way Getou was pretty; you were handsome with fine features, you radiated with odd power, and you spoke with unmatched poise and purpose it almost made the man’s ego swoon. 

But you looked tired as Getou had, too. Skin void of blushing warmth, eyes distant and hazy, dark circles pulling your gaze away from him. He didn't like it. It made him remember that cold hand ripping his heart to pieces. 

“Look who’s awake!” Gojo cheered as he sauntered toward you, hands in his pockets and a smile adorning his face. “Hungry? I could getcha some–”

“You were listening, were you not?” You wondered, running your bony fingers through matted fur systematically. Your split nails picked and clawed through tangles and knots thoroughly, as though it’d make a difference in your beat-up appearance. 

Gojo tilted his head before settling down in the seat beside your bed. “Hm? Me? Listening? To–”

“Yuuji and I.”

“Ah! You mean the night you snuck out to do some naughty, naughty things with my student?” 

You deadpanned fiercely, looking at him the way someone else used to. “Ha. Hm. Surely you jest.”

Gojo waggled his brows as much as he could, hoping they’d peek out over the top of his blindfold. “Hah, you think I don’t know what my sweet, precious Yuuji does behind closed doors? I know everything! I’m–”

“You misunderstand,” you cut him off, looking more and more concerned with each passing second. “You are a teacher? Why? How? This does not seem ethical.”

Gojo died. Rather, his pride did. Which was essentially his lifeforce. 

“What are you–okay, I’m just gonna chalk it up to you being cranky after getting woken up, alright? I’ll give you a pass. Just once!” Gojo nodded as a benevolent creature should. “You should thank me.”

“I’d rather not.” You sighed and returned to your grooming. “If you wish to interrogate me, I require food first. Tofu, specifically”

Gojo laughed. “Man, you are one high-maintenance god. Alright, you want normie tofu, or agedashi tofu?” 

You blinked and looked at him, curious. 

“Agedashi tofu?”

You really liked agedashi tofu. You liked the little sauce it came with, you liked the other random shit Gojo bought to try and win over your compliance–well, honestly, he also just wanted an excuse to shower someone with the food and snacks he liked. It’d been a long time since he’d had the privilege to. 

“So,” Gojo said as he popped the marble into the ramune bottle for you and handed it over, “About you and Sukuna.” 

“Mhm?” Your eyes glittered in fascination as you took the drink and examined it from all angles, carefully tilting it here and there to watch the blue bubbles rise to the top as the glass ball rolled and spun in its tiny prison. 

Gojo almost lost his train of thought watching you, but he reigned it in quickly.

“Seems like you were close.” Were was important. You'd referred to the menace in past tense when speaking with Yuuji–clearly, you didn't realize the curse resided within the young sorcerer. Best to keep it that way.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment.

“I suppose. Why?” 

“I'm just nosy!” 

“I know that already. But there exists intelligence behind your annoying behaviour.” Your gaze slid to him, staring through the veil of fabric and straight into his eyes. “You're a monster like he was, aren't you?” 

“Hah?! Rude!” Gojo whined, but regained composure just as fast. “Seems your intuition is pretty good, huh?”

“It's simply an understanding of nature.” 

“Is that what pulled you to him? His nature?” 

“No. I was given to him. As a gift. By a clan of sorcerers.”

“Huh. A gift.”

“Yes. The harvest festival required as much. He was revered as a godly creature. Something to be feared.” 

“And so were you,” Gojo guessed, and you frowned and looked away, instead picking through the treats and snacks brought to you. 

“The people saw us very differently.”

Sukuna didn't walk through the city below often–not until you decided you liked it down there. 

Finding out that you walked through those streets alone sent a trill of something unpleasant up Sukuna's spine; knowing you were alone, vulnerable and under the eyes of so many that so often cursed Sukuna and wished him dead made him…uneasy, maybe. You could handle yourself. Sukuna simply couldn't handle the disrespect.

But things weren’t as he assumed.

You walked through town, and the people revered you as they would Amaterasu incarnate. Most didn't address you, but all saw and accepted your presence with grace and kindness, nodding or flickering small smiles as you passed by with the king trailing behind. 

Sukuna could understand; you'd become something astoundingly breathtaking. Lush, full tails dipped and swayed as you walked with the poised elegance of royalty, the feeling only enhanced by the careful, intricate way you presented yourself in your attire. Sukuna knew you felt beautiful. You were beautiful. 

“It's (Name!)” A child cried, and Sukuna fought the urge to punt the little shit into the restaurant across the road when the tiny human grabbed at your clothes. 

But you smiled. You actually smiled when you patted the girl on the head and said your sweet hellos before ushering her along after her mother. The corners of your eyes crinkled for once, showing that, yes, you'd aged and felt joy and become so perfect because of it. And when you cooed sweet farewells to passing little ones, your fangs flickered against the colour of your lips, just for a second. 

Your gilded gaze caught his carmine stare, and you tilted your head. 

“Sukuna.” You held your hand out to him, and he took it. He had no choice. He was only human, and you were God. Walking through a city of mortals.

He let you lead on, wandering to the shops where you bought thread and fabric for your stupid little projects with money he didn't even know you had. You could have just taken everything you wanted, especially with the king stood right by your side, but you eased the shopkeeper's nerves with kind words and ample pay. 

Sukuna all but picked you up and launched you both back home the second you were done meandering. He had a job to do; he had to fully commit to siring a runt.

Now, Gojo didn't need to know all that, but it didn't stop your mind from wandering to that night; it was the first time he looked at you like that. It was the first time he decided against lording his power over you, instead holding you close and taking things slow. You missed it. You yearned for the night he stopped seeing you as a toy and saw you as you. The night he finally learned your name.

“They viewed me as something divine,” you continued, digging out of the warmth of memories. “Perhaps because I walked alongside someone like him.” 

“Well, only gods can walk through a volcano and come out unscathed, no?” Gojo smiled a bit as you looked away, embarrassed. 

“That's a poor analogy.”

“Eh?”

“How would one walk through a volcano? None would even think to get close enough to do so.”

“W-Wait–”

“You would be underground, would you not? With limbs melted, oneself ablaze? And one would not walk but wade through lava.” 

“It's just a metaphor!” Gojo wailed. 

“A poor one.” And you continued to pick through snacks, unbothered that you'd just destroyed the strongest man alive as you munched on cheese-flavoured rice puffs.

Gojo laughed, though. “I can see why he liked you. Supports the theory he's not the one who put you in the coffin.” 

“It wasn't him,” you snapped. Your ears flattened against your skull as you shrunk in on yourself. “At least…not directly.” 

Oh? Gojo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together.

“Then who was it? What happened?” 

“I don't fully understand it myself,” you confessed. Your voice was a whisper, cold and lonely like a far North winter. 

“Maybe I can help.” 

You looked to him and back down again. 

“There was a man. A sorcerer. I don't know his name–I never cared to learn it. He was odd.” You tore up little bits of hi-chew wrappers as you spoke. “He asked me if I would sacrifice myself for Sukuna.” 

“And?” Gojo prodded. 

“I would not,” you said. “Sukuna would never need my sacrifice, he'd never need my aid. He was the strongest.” A light frown tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That creature thought otherwise. He mentioned something about additional wombs, but I don't know what that means.” 

Fuck. Gojo nodded politely. “Gotcha, gotcha. What'd this guy look like? You remember?” 

“Unremarkable, save for the odd sutures across his forehead.” 

“Oh? Interesting. Alright, last question, my cute little kitsune–”

“(Name),” you cut in. “Address me as (Name).”

Gojo sparkled. “Waaah, I think our relationship just leveled up to A-tier! One more level and I can romance–”

“Please do not make me hurt you.” 

The white witch whined and deflated against his chair. “Boooring.”

You huffed and flicked your ear. “Ask your question, goblin.” 

Gojo took a breath before he spoke. 

“Are you with child right now?” 

The world changed suddenly. Seal papers coating the walls drowned in bones and flowers as the pungent sweetness of orchids and decay curled around Gojo. Around you, a cage began to rise, jutting out from the earth and encircling you like thousands of rigid arms holding you in an embrace. And your eyes–they shone with abhorrent divinity, outshining even the nine, pristine tails breathing with blackened fire. 

But there was screaming. Two voices intertwined. Little and distant, warped and outraged at–at something. Maybe Gojo? Maybe his accusations, his questions? 

Just when the sorcerer was about to act, your clasped a hand over your stomach, and you whispered with the thrum of a thousand voices:

“Be still.” 

It all moved slowly, then. The phenomenon–the apparent domain expansion–reversed, sinking back into the floors and walls with the soft sound of chittering and cooing taking the place of wicked screeches. You, too, cooed back to the twin voices, placating them with maternal ease. 

Your divinity faded with the last shreds of the illusion. Now, your colours faded further, painting you in desaturated tones of exhaustion and worry. Gojo hated that palette. It'd been used too many times on too many he doted on. God was stupid like that, creating such sad, worrisome colours.

The sorcerer took a deep breath in the silence of the room. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. He was never good at this kind of thing. His other half was much better at this. 

But he had to try. The look on your face told him he had to try. 

What would he have done?

Gojo’s hand reached out as he leaned forward, and he caught your scarred, bony hand in his own. You didn’t pull away, you didn't fight him, you instead curled your fingers around his and held your breath while your gaze became unseeing, your heart ceased beating just as your breathing had. For a moment, you died.

“I'm sorry,” Gojo whispered. And you nodded. Somehow, he knew it meant, ‘me too.’ 

It was then, touching you, that he could feel the negative energy thrumming beneath a shell of divinity. Two different un-lives coiled inside of you, filled with bitter hate for man and undying love for their mother. For you. It wasn't unlike the bond shared between Yuuta and Rika, but this was not as simple. 

“Your ilk did not approve of Sukuna siring children,” you murmured. Your grip on his hand turned poisonous. “If you try to take them from me–”

“What'll you do?” He asked, knowing they'd never be born. 

“--I will turn everything to ash. Set fire to the skies. Just as I have once already.”

“Good.” Gojo smiled. “You'd be a good mother.” 

“I hope I one day can be.”

The masked menaced nodded again as he idly soothed his thumb across your knuckles. “Never say never, yenno? We'll figure something out for you. If you can do something to help the school–”

“I can give gifts. Once I have the energy.” You didn't sound like you did. Gojo wasn't sure if you ever would.

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked anyway. 

You looked at him, weak and defeated, yet still clinging to life. 

“My divine favour.”

[ichorai]

little dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)

part two ; water dragon.

pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader

synopsis ; he was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest.

words ; 5.8k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), fantasy, established relationship (married), pregnant au

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex, tiny bit of oral (f recieving), breeding and praise kink, pregnancy/childbirth, vhagar cameo, aegon being a menace, foul language, aemond being a good husband/dad unlike his own father, so sorry if the valyrian grammar isn't completely correct ;-; if anyone gets the bert & ernie tully reference you deserve a million dollars

main masterlist.

It happened in the dead of night. When the winds quietened to but a feathery whisper, when the moon shone white and gold and silver, when the fires in the hearth of your chambers had waned to a soft orange glow.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” he whispered against the flushed skin of your neck, traveling downwards to softly kiss along your clavicle. His voice was gravely and rich, soaked with honey and ocean salt. The sapphire within his eye glinted with the dim lighting of the sparse candles scattered around your chambers, and you craned your head to press a kiss upon his scar, your nose slotted against his cheekbone. 

My love was what he’d said—you didn’t know much Valyrian, still trying your best to study during your free hours, but your husband called you that often enough for you to recognize the affectionate words. 

One of your hands was buried within his silken silver hair, tugging in tandem with his swift, fluid motions. The other clawed down his toned back, leaving angry red trails in its wake. A strained cry fell from your kiss-swollen lips as you rocked your hips against his. 

Aemond held your waist in a tight grip, thumbs brushing against the sides of your ribs with every stroke of his throbbing cock within your slick, heated cunt. His lips, his tongue, his teeth—all blistering, scorching, searing with need. 

“Sīr sȳz syt nyke, ñuha embar.” So good for me, my sea. He was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest. A guttural groan tapered his voice to a close when you clenched around him, his susurrating praises mumbled against your breast sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. His rapid, desperate string of Valyrian fell upon deaf ears, buzzing with pleasure. Stars colored your vision a blinding white when one of his hands relinquished his hold on you to snake down your abdomen, pressing his long fingers against your clit.

“Aemond!” you just about sobbed, legs curling around his waist to pull him closer. You were insatiable, cracking your eyes open once more, a thin film of tears warbling over your widened gaze. “Oh, please, please—!”

A gasp caught in your throat as he thrust into you with more power than before, but froze once he was completely sheathed within your throbbing cunt. “Please, what? Have I fucked you stupid already, jorrāelagon, hm? Dragon got your tongue?” he hummed in mild amusement, regarding your beautiful, sweaty form with a hungry, lustful expression, eyebrows cocked as he waited for your answer. 

Part of you wanted to snarl at him, tell him to keep moving, but the other half of you wanted to cry and plead and beg for his cock.

Knowing your husband, he would’ve been quite pleased with either. 

“I want you to finish inside me,” you breathed out, lips brushing the shell of his ear, eyes half-hooded with want. “Fuck me full of your cum, valzȳrys.”

His cock grew impossibly harder within you, throbbing almost painfully—whether it was because of you calling him husband in his native language, or because of your devilish tongue laving upon a sensitive spot on his neck, he couldn’t quite tell. Expression hardening, he grabbed at your hips and yanked himself out of you, before flipping you onto your stomach and swiftly breaching your entrance in no less than three seconds, earning him a shriek of surprise which winded into a litany of breathless moans and blubbering pleas. 

And yet, he remained still, cock stretching you out so deliciously well—but he wasn’t moving. You sobbed with frustration, burying your face into the feather-pillow in front of you, muffling your desperate cries. Aemond’s growl thundered through his throat, and he slid his hand into your hair and tugged you up flush against his chest, so he could hear your obscene noises loud and clear. His free hand creeped down between your trembling thighs, where his middle finger only barely grazed over your clit, despite your fruitless attempts to buck your hips up to meet his touch.

“Ask me again nicely, ñuha embar,” he whispered, placing a loving kiss to the side of your temple. “In my mother tongue—you remember all those lessons I gave you, no?”

You wanted to curse at him. Your Valyrian lessons with him were the very last thing on your mind at the moment. Thoughts hazy, you murmured out a bit shakily, “Kostilus, qogralbar nyke, Aemond. Ta… Tatagon iemnȳ, kostilus.” 

Please, fuck me, Aemond. Finish inside, please.

He hummed in satisfaction as he pressed sweet kisses along the curve of your shoulder. He gently pulled out and began to roughly thrust back up into you as soon as you moaned out, “Nyke jorrāelagon ao!”

I need you!

A broken sigh tumbled from your throat when he finally began to fuck you just the way you wanted, knowing that your climax was drawing near. You had no chance of lasting when he began to circle the pads of his fingers against your clit. 

“Iksā sīr sȳz. Sīr, sīr sȳz, ñuha embar,” he said, chest rumbling with each word. You feel so good. So, so good, my sea. “Avy jorrāelan, avy jorrāelan, dōna ābrazȳrys.” I love you, I love you, sweet wife.

You preened with his praise, arching your spine and pushing your hips back to match his quick pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, of your arousal rang loud and true throughout your chambers, bouncing off the stone walls and ricocheting back to you, heat spidering over your skin upon hearing your own lust. 

“Tatagon syt nyke,” he growled, motions growing erratic and hurried. Cum for me.

With one final moan, you collapsed against him, cunt spasming tightly around his dick as you toppled down from the edge, pushing Aemond over the brink as well, spurts of warm cum painting your cunt. Despite the both of you already coming down from your highs, Aemond rocked into you a couple more times, kissing your sweaty hairline over and over again as he showered you with muted praise. The sticky substance dripped down the insides of your legs once he gingerly pulled out of you with a low sigh. He reached down to collect it and abruptly stuffed his cum-slickened fingers back into your cunt, wrangling a sharp intake of breath from you.

He chuckled lightly, pulling his hand back out and dragging his tongue over his finger to taste the filthy mix of your essence with his seed, before winding his arm around you to allow you to do the same. You whimpered around his fingers, sucking on the digits slowly—Aemond could feel his cock growing hard again. 

With a pleased hum, he languidly set you back down on the bed so he could lay beside you, pulling his hand away from your mouth with a lewdly wet pop. 

“I love you,” you croaked, throat parched and voice hoarse from all your moaning, an utterly blissful grin stretching your swollen lips.

Aemond cupped your face within his palms and pressed a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. “And I you, my dear sea.”

MOON ONE.

“It’s been a moon since you’ve bled, my lady,” your handmaiden, Lailena, commented, a knowing excitement to her gaze. “Could that mean…?”

In truth, you haven't told anyone about your pregnancy just yet. Nobody knew except you and the maester, who’d sworn himself to secrecy with a kind, understanding smile. It’d been a couple days since you found out, and you were still trying to find a way to tell your beloved husband. In the meantime, you were enjoying the peaceful privacy of knowing that it was only you who knew of the babe growing within you. No doubt when the news would inevitably break out, Alicent and Aemond would be hovering over you like overprotective hawks. 

Not being able to contain your smile, you grasped your handmaiden’s hands within yours. “You’re not to tell a soul, Lailena. I still have yet to inform the prince.”

Your handmaiden mimicked locking her lips shut, a beautiful smile etching across her features. “I am so happy for you, my lady. If you need anything—anything at all, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

“Oh, you’re too kind, my dear,” you hummed, patting her cheek affectionately. You had a soft spot for your young handmaiden—having stopped her from being sold into a whorehouse against her will at the ripe age of ten-and-two. “Will you please draw me a bath? I’d like to wash the day’s labor off of me.”

Not ten minutes later, you were sighing in relief as you sank into a tub of warm water, the heat a relief for your tense muscles. You let your eyelids slide shut, lolling your head against the bath’s edge. 

A familiar pair of hands settled upon your bare shoulders, and you didn’t have to look to know that it was your husband coming to check in on you.

“Rytsas, ñuha jorrāelagon,” he hummed, kneeling by the gilded tub’s edge and pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. Hello, my love.

“Aemond.” You shifted so you could face him, the water sloshing about with your movements. Nervousness was eating away at your insides, and you thought that no time would be better than now, where nobody else would bother you. “My darling husband, I have something to tell you.”

For a brief moment, worry flashed across Aemond’s expression, afraid something was wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing bad,” you reassured him, a soft smile hanging onto the corner of your lips when he leaned forward to rest his forehead over yours. “At least, I hope it’s not.”

He remained mute, wordlessly urging you to continue. 

“I am with child.”

There were exactly three seconds of silence, presumably Aemond taking time to fully comprehend what you’d just told him. And then, a rare, beautiful smile overtook his usually impartial expression, his heart skipping over several beats with the realization that he was going to be a father. 

“You’re not jesting, embar?” he whispered, nose nudging yours. “Because this would surely be a cruel joke.”

Mirroring his growing elation, you let yourself beam brightly, craning your neck to kiss him properly. “I’m not jesting, Aemond,” you murmured, trailing your lips up to freckle kisses over the marred skin of his scar, and around his eyepatch, which you itched to yank off. 

“My love,” he said, struggling to find words for how he was feeling. Overjoyed? Shocked? Scared? “This is… you’re so… wonderful. This is wonderful. Avy jorrāelan. I love you, more than anything—and our little dragon.”

You scoffed, pulling away from him with raised brows. “Dragon? You forget I am a Tully, dear husband—they will be half my blood.”

With an affectionate roll of his eye, Aemond lifted his hand to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Alright, alright. Half-dragon, half-trout, then.”

“Fire and water.” You nodded in satisfaction at the compromise, your jubilated smile stolen away with a kiss from your sweet husband.

MOON TWO.

Aemond felt the bed shift as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress. A small noise of discontent rumbled in his throat as he propped himself onto his elbow, vision still adjusting to the darkness. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered, voice still gravely with slumber, twinged with confusion. “The hour is still early, my love. The sun has yet to rise.”

You hummed, leaning down to kiss his cheek, before rising onto your feet, shrugging on a silken green robe. “I have a sudden craving for honey cakes. I’m going down to the kitchens to see if they have any left from yesterday’s supper.”

“Now?” queried your husband, seeming partially miffed, and partially amused. He roused from the bed himself, sliding on a loose tunic so his chest wasn’t bare, and followed you out of your shared chambers and into the hall. “What brings about such a queer craving? You’ve never been particularly fond of honey cakes before.”

Subconsciously, you rested a hand on your stomach. “It must be the babe. I’ve been having the strangest cravings the past few days. Around a fortnight ago, I wanted to have nothing but apple fritters—those ones with cinnamon glaze, you know? For a while, everything else made me feel sick.”

A ghost of a smile graced Aemond’s lips. “I remember—mother said you were looking rather green at the mess table.”

You scowled at the memory, which spurred Aemond to huff out a laugh and tug you closer into his side. 

“My little dragon is a picky one,” he murmured, glancing down to where your hand hovered over your belly, still having yet to show physical signs of the pregnancy. “This is a good thing, ñuha dōna embar. They must already know their worth.”

Once in the kitchens, a part of the castle neither of you had ever ventured in before, Aemond scoured around for the blasted honey cakes you craved for so badly, and found them in a small container on the highest shelf. He pulled them down and handed one to you, grinning ever so softly when you didn’t even give yourself time to properly thank him before shoving one into your mouth and moaning around the pastry. 

Aemond kissed your temple and took a bite of his own piece of honey cake to appease your pleading urges for him to try it, even though it was far too sweet for his taste.

MOON THREE.

 You were beginning to show, and Aemond couldn’t be happier.

“Our dragon is growing,” he’d say every morning without fail, a prideful gleam to his eyes. “And you have never been more beautiful, dōna ābrazȳrys.” Sweet wife. 

That afternoon, he brought you down to the dragonpit where Vhagar was nesting with her brand new clutch of eggs, wanting to introduce his little dragon to his much larger one. You watched with wide eyes as her bronze, spiny tail curled around four scaled eggs, each a different shade of copper. It was a miracle that a dragon of her old age laid a clutch of eggs at all, much less four of them. 

“Do not be afraid, embar,” he whispered, noticing your stiff movements and your hesitant steps, despite the brave facade you tried to hold on. “Vhagar will not hurt you.”

At the sound of her name, the dragon lifted her head, bright green eyes shifting to her master, then to you. She huffed out a small plume of warm smoke in greeting.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” commanded Aemond, placing a hand on her snout and gently urging you to come closer. “It’s alright, love. She can sense the dragon inside you.”

Still a bit tentative, you shakily lifted a hand and laid it beside Aemond’s, stroking the warm scales of her large nose. Emerald eyes shining, Vhagar’s chest rumbled, and she dipped forward ever so slightly, slotting her hot muzzle against your belly, as if acknowledging the babe inside you. 

Aemond smiled, his one eye creasing at the corners. “She likes you.”

“Though I have never been more petrified in my life…” you began softly, patting Vhagar’s snout and grinning widely, “I like her, too.”

“What do you say we pick an egg for our little dragon, hm?” asked your husband, commanding Vhagar to stay as Aemond led you to the beautiful quartet of shiny eggs. 

MOON FOUR.

You leaned against the intricate stone railing of the balcony attached to your chambers, breathing in the fresh morning air. You had woken up early—much earlier than you usually did, unable to fall back asleep because of the baby constantly moving inside you. 

Not too long after, your husband stepped out onto the balcony as well, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Neither of you said anything, perfectly content on basking in each other’s comfortable silence. 

His hand laid upon your slightly rounded stomach, rubbing gentle circles over the thin fabric of your sleeping shift. The first birds of the day chirped as the sun rose, spilling golden light over the two of you. 

You leaned back into him with a pleased sigh. “Helaena has asked me to come watch the twins today. I’m rather excited for them to meet the babe.”

Humming, Aemond nuzzled his nose into your cheek. “I’m excited to meet my little dragon, as well.”

MOON FIVE.

Since you’d been having trouble sleeping as of late, Aemond found that fucking you to exhaustion was one of the few ways to get you to sleep soundly throughout the night. It was either that, or he could read philosophical books to you in Valyrian. 

And though he quite enjoyed reading to you, the prince much preferred the former option.

“Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he hummed deeply, bordering on a growl, thrusting back into your sensitive, slick cunt. My beautiful wife. “I’ve fucked you full hundreds of times and yet you always want more. I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you everything, sweet embar.”

A low moan slipped from your throat and you desperately pulled his face to you, your lips meeting in a feverish manner. He grunted into your mouth when you clenched around his lengthy girth, nails raking angry red lines down his shoulders to the middle of his back. 

“Aemond!” you cried, bucking your hips up to meet his, lips parting in a tantalizing manner. 

Your eyes slipped shut with the overwhelming pleasure, but Aemond grasped your chin, softly grunting out, “Keep them open, love. I want to see you when you come all over my cock.”

The intense eye contact made your body flush with a certain heat, hurtling you ever so close to your climax. Your husband snuck a hand between you to draw slow circles on your aching clit, and you were abruptly slammed into your third orgasm, the first two stolen from Aemond’s silver tongue and long fingers, respectively. 

Utterly spent, you trailed kisses over Aemond’s cheek, up to his scarred eye. He had slowed down to a gentle rock, cock still stiff and aching within you. “You can move, Aem,” you whispered, placing a tender kiss to the very tip of his nose. “I want you to cum inside—I want my cunt to be dripping with your seed.”

And he groaned at your lewd words, dipping back down to meet your lips once more, all teeth and tongue. His breath hitched as he began moving once more, your soaked core feeling like absolute heaven. 

“Mmh, fuck!” he growled, emptying inside you, catching himself with his elbow when he collapsed, thankfully before he could crush you or the babe. “So good for me, dōna embar.” 

A low whine emitted from your lungs when he slowly pulled out, holding your legs apart to observe his spend leaking out of your fluttering cunt. 

Much to your simultaneous dismay and pleasure, Aemond just couldn’t resist, swiftly moving down to drag his tongue from your cunt up to your clit, grumbling an expletive at your taste. 

“Aemond!” you yelped, flinching away with overstimulation, lightly swatting at his shoulders with a laugh. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me,” you said, grinning when he moved back up with an apologetic smile, dark sapphire glinting with the flickering candles lit about your chambers.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You taste heavenly.” Finally, he settled back onto the bed behind you, pulling you flush against his chest. “Get some rest, Y/N. I plan on tasting you on the morrow. Perhaps you can ride my face again.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you murmured in response, not having listened to anything he’d said, already drifting halfway into sleep. 

You slipped into a deep slumber with Aemond’s arm protectively slung over your baby bump.

MOON SIX.

You were grateful that you no longer grew sick at the sight of a regular supper. You weren’t quite sure how long you would’ve lasted on honey cakes and apple slices alone. 

Dinner that night was a warm, peppered vegetable stew with loaves of steaming bread to mop it up with. There were other courses, such as honey-glazed venison, and slow-roasted pork belly—the latter of which Aemond avoided entirely despite Lucerys’ hushed giggling from across the table. Initially, he’d wanted to stride across the room and strangle the smug expression off the younger boy’s face, but one look at your stern, disapproving countenance made him hesitate, before begrudgingly digging back into his food.

He was to be a father soon. What example would he set for his child if he were to go about beating his nephews every other minute?

Lucerys was not the only one who stirred trouble at the table that evening. 

Rhaenyra and Helaena were pleasant for the most part, querying about your pregnancy and giving their own advice from their previous experiences. Baela and Rhaena were also kind to you, eagerly asking if you had any names picked out for the babe. You told them that you haven’t yet thought about it, sheepishly smiling. “If you have any ideas, I’m more than willing to listen,” you told the younger girls, which made them beam brightly with excitement. You didn’t know the two nearly as much as you wished to, but you were willing to try and build bridges between the steadily distancing sides—bridges that Aemond, as much as you loved your husband, was keen on burning. 

Alicent was silent for most of the time, only pitching in every so often to make passive-aggressive remarks to Rhaenyra, and occasionally trying to compliment you with a strained smile. As Aemond was her most beloved child, she’d always wanted to be closer to his dear wife, but found it troublesome to bond with you when you were so very fond of Rhaenyra. 

The men at the table, on the other hand, were an entirely different story. Jacaerys and Daemon quietly spoke to one another, but were rudely interrupted by Aegon spilling wine all over Jace’s lap. He drunkenly proclaimed it to be a slip of his hand, a mere accident—but everyone at the table knew he’d done it on purpose. Jacaerys was visibly stiff, but held his tongue, fist clenching and unclenching around a silver fork. 

“I pity your betrothed, I really do,” simpered Aegon to his nephew, hiccupping as he downed some more wine. The rest of the chatter at the table halted to watch the drunken Prince blubber on further. “How will you please her in bed if you haven’t the faintest clue where to put your cock?”

“Aegon!” Alicent admonished sharply, eyes wide and jaw set.

The eldest Prince waved his mother away, standing up abruptly, brandishing another chalice full to the brim with alcohol. You briefly wondered where all these cups were coming from. Then, Aegon rounded his gaze on you and Aemond at the other end of the table. “See, my dearest brother has figured out how to do it! Look, his wife is all round with his first child—perhaps the next could be mine. It matters not which Targaryen fucks you, it’s not like you can tell the difference when the babe comes out. Your Tully whore of a wife probably wouldn’t even mind, brother! I’d bet all my coin every guard in this room has sullied her already!” 

In a blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, lips curled into a snarl. Alicent also stood up, glancing between her two boys worriedly, afraid a fight would break out. 

You were the last one to rise, placing a hand on Aemond’s arm. He seemed to soften beneath your touch, glancing back to look at you briefly, nonverbally making sure that you were alright.

You shook your head, glaring harshly at Aegon, before turning on your heel and marching out of the mess hall, leaving a portion of your dinner largely untouched. 

It took everything within Aemond not to clamber onto the table and throw his fist into his older brother’s arrogant, drunken face. He longed to resort to physical violence—after all, Aemond was taller and stronger and quicker than him, and would easily best his brother in a fight. But his urge to be by your side was far greater, so he settled with scathing words and a lingering threat.

“You are a foul excuse of a brother, Aegon. If you ever dare to insult my wife again, I will carve out your tongue myself and feed it to my dragon.”

With that, Aemond stormed out of the hall, strides quickening so he could catch up with you. On his way out, he faintly heard his mother trying her best to patch up the situation, rambling in a panicked fashion, “Aemond doesn’t mean it, Aegon. Sit down and finish your supper, will you?”

Aemond rolled his one eye. He’d meant every last word of what he said. 

When he finally caught up to you, you were already in your chambers, gently wiping the dampness of your frustrated tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, tugging you into his chest and stroking the back of your head. “My brother is a drunken fool. Do not take his crude words to heart. He is not worth your tears.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond,” you murmured into the fabric of his tunic, blowing out a calming sigh. “You didn’t have to follow me, though… you didn’t get to finish your supper.”

He blew out a mildly amused huff. “Neither did you, dōna embar.” Sweet sea. How you adored the affectionate nickname he called you. “I love you. And I would follow you to the ends of this world if I had to—even if it meant missing a bit of supper.”

It felt as if your heart was melting through the confines of your ribs, and you could only lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You are everything to me, my darling Aemond. I love you, too.”

MOON SEVEN.

The baby was kicking again. Nonstop, for the past three hours.

You glared down at your swollen belly, before uncomfortably shifting on the bed until you were sitting upright. The babe kicked once more, as if sensing your annoyance. You couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. 

From beside you, Aemond looked away from the thick history tome he was reading and tilted his head. He’d thought you were already asleep. “The hour grows late, ñuha jorrāelagon. What troubles you so?”

With an exhausted sigh, you laid your head upon his shoulder, and Aemond immediately shut the book and placed it off to the side. 

“The babe,” you said, threading your hand with one of his and tracing shapes along the back of his palm. “They haven’t stopped kicking since I got out of my bath and I can hardly sleep more than a few winks. Though, I can’t say I can complain—Lailena says the ones who kick more will grow to be strong warriors.”

A small, satisfied smirk flitted over your husband’s sharp features. “Of course they’re kicking around—they’re a dragon after all.”

“Trout-dragon,” you reminded him, a soft smile to your lips. 

Aemond barked out a laugh. “Dragon-trout.” His free hand came around to place it on the center of your belly, and he sucked in an astonished breath when he felt the baby moving around beneath his palm. He met your eyes, shining with pride and adoration—for both you and the babe within you. “They’re a true Targaryen. We’ve never been too keen on sitting still.”

“So this is your fault,” you bit out, drawing yourself away from his shoulder to narrow your tired eyes at your husband. “I just want to sleep!”

His purple iris glinted salaciously. The hand on your belly began inching further down between your legs. “Maybe I just need to tire you out, hm?”

“No, I’m already so very tired,” you murmured, melting beneath his touch. Immediately, Aemond retracted his fingers, cupping your face and pressing sweet kisses over your heavy eyelids. 

“I’m sorry, love. What can I do?”

With a grateful slant of your lips, you settled yourself into his side once again. “Read to me, please. You have a very beautiful voice—it’s especially soothing in Valyrian.”

Humming, Aemond reached over to grab the history tome once more, flicking it open to where he’d left off. 

The Prince began reading the tale of Aegon’s Conquest out loud for you, his Valyrian effortlessly smooth, like pure honey to your ears. Not even three pages deep, you had already given into the alluring promise of sleep, cheek smushed against his shoulder. Aemond kept reading anyway, placing a hand on your belly, certain that his child could hear his low voice.

“One day you and I will be in one of these books,” he told the babe, a wistful smile on his face. “And our great, great, grandchildren will be reading about us and the many adventures we’ll go on.”

MOON EIGHT.

The fire crackled hungrily as Aemond kindled the greedy flames with a fresh wedge of wood. 

“What do you think of Jacaelar?” your husband asked. “It’s a fine name for a son.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know—their nickname would be Jace, and you’re not particularly fond of the Jace we already know. What about a Tully name? How does Bert sound for a boy?”

“No.”

“Ooh, what about Ernie?”

Aemond grimaced. With a laugh, you playfully rolled your eyes. “Alright, alright. We’ll stick to Valyrian names.”

After a moment’s silence, Aemond suggested, “Vaeron?”

“Yes, I rather like that one.” You grinned. “Do you like Daera for a girl?”

Your husband sat down on the plush chaise beside you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s a good name—though my younger brother Daeron might think we named our child after him, and I’d really rather not inflate his ego. I like the name Visera. There’s also Rhaelor, Jahaela, Haerys, Saelyra—”

“Oh, it’s just too many to choose from!” you exclaimed, cutting his extensive list off and sinking further into your seat. “We can just call the babe Aemond the Second and be done with it.”

With a chortle of laughter, Aemond shook his head, fine silver strands of hair tickling your cheek when he drew you close into his side. “And what if our little dragon is a girl?”

“Then we call her Aemonda. I don’t know,” you harrumphed, crossing your arms. Aemond lightly pinched your thigh. After another second, you gently proposed, “... Syraena sounds lovely. Don’t you think so?”

Humming, Aemond bowed his head. “Syraena. It is a lovely name.”

You rubbed your hands over your distended stomach. “Do you know if you’d rather have a son or a daughter?”

He took a moment to consider your question before quietly replying, “I care naught for the babe’s sex—they will be my blood, regardless. My little dragon.” Before you could correct him, he hastily added, “Trout. Dragon-trout.”

The two of you began cracking up with silent laughter, and you turned to watch the fire burn away, small golden embers floating up from the hearth. 

You heard your husband murmur Syraena beneath his breath once more, clearly content with the name. A glowing beam graced your expression. 

NINE MOONS.

The birthing was the most painful experience you’d ever gone through. There were tears streaming down your face, and your hair was damp with sweat. Aemond was by your side, loyal as ever, clutching your hand and murmuring sweet words of encouragement, uncaring of the impropriety of a man in the birthing room. He’d gone so far as to threaten the guards when they first told him that he should be waiting outside, enjoying the celebration being held in your and the babe’s name. 

“Try to keep me from my wife and I will decorate the floor with your guts,” he growled, his single eye burning with a thirsty flame.

The guards didn’t bother him after that.

“Oh, it hurts! Aemond, Aemond, please, it hurts,” you sobbed, another wave of pain washing over your body. “I need the baby out! Come out, come out, come out!” you screamed, skin burning hotly as more sweltering tears meandered down your perspiring face.

“It’ll be over soon, embar, you’re doing so well,” assured your husband, even though he looked every bit as terrified as you did, perhaps even more so. Gods forbid such a thing to happen, but if Aemond were to lose you to the perilous task of childbirth, he didn’t think he could ever live with himself afterwards. 

The midwives began telling you to push, and you happily obliged, eager to get the labor over and done with. 

It was said that your screams shook the very ground, but that might’ve just been Aemond exaggerating the truth out of proportion. 

“Congratulations, my Prince,” said one of the midwives once you’d pushed and pushed and pushed until you nearly passed out from the strain, the babe finally coming out of you with a shrill cry. Aemond could feel his heart lurch at the sound. “You have a beautiful, healthy girl.”

“Do not congratulate me, it is Y/N that did all the work,” muttered your husband, kissing the back of your clammy hand and sweeping the hair sticking to your face aside. “You were wonderful, jorrāelagon.” His face bore nothing but radiant pride, a rare beam stretching his lips wide. 

He stood up, turning to the midwife to look upon his small, screaming daughter, who was quickly bound in a red woolen blanket. She handed him the babe, and Aemond gently situated her into his arms.

“You have the lungs of a dragon, little one,” he crooned, expression bearing little else than raw love and adoration for the tiny thing. With fluid movements, he kneeled down beside the birthing bed once more, easing the baby into your awaiting arms. 

An exhausted smile made its way onto your face when you took the baby, cooing, “Oh, so you’re the one always kicking around during the night. It’s nice to meet you… Syraena.”

The baby—your daughter—sported thin wisps of silvery hair, much like her father and her grandsire. Targaryen blood ran thick, after all.

You turned to grin at Aemond. “She has your nose,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion and love.

Little Syraena’s wailing began to wane away as you bounced her, and she cracked open her tiny eyes for a brief moment, blinking up at the two of you with a wide gaze.

“And she shares the color of your beautiful eyes, embar. Rytsas, Syraena,” greeted Aemond, expression soft and ever so tender. One of his fingers reached out to gently stroke her soft, chubby cheek. For several moons, he’d read to her when she was still in the womb, and he wondered if she could recognize the sound of his voice. 

“My little dragon…” Aemond murmured. “My sea dragon.”

[reidsdaisies]

PROTECTIVE EMILY WITH READERRRRRR

i would love to witness emily go a lil feral if maybe the unsub punches reader or something. the things that woman makes me feel 😩😩😩 i wanna be held by her and have her kiss my tears away

‘𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭’

༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; emily prentiss x gn bau!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; guns and typical cm case stuff, reader is shot in the shoulder but is okay, rephrasing of the iconic “I’ve got a Glock leveled at your crotch. What’s to stop me from taking you and the little ones out?” line, stressed emily :( and concerned emily, she blamed herself :(, you don’t blame her, kissingg<3.

༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 1k

༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; i don’t think this is the exact situation you wanted, but this is the direction i took it. not proof read.

cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox

“Honey, don’t.”

You gave a silent nod, pressing your lips together in an attempt to keep your mouth shut. Her hand was pressed against your chest, the chest protected by the bulletproof vest you were wearing. She gave you a light pat before drawing her gun and swiftly turning the corner.

Two shots from her Glock is all it took before the unsub was out cold. You all knew he would try to ambush the two of you, just like he did with his victims, and so Emily needed you to be quiet in order for the situation to go the right way. Fortunately, it was easier than you guys had anticipated, and as she bent down to confiscate the perpetrator's weapon, she was taken aback when she looked up to see you turned around the other way, standing beside her with your gun drawn.

“Drop your weapon!” You yelled to the unknown man, but it was too late because he had already fired his shot at you. Luckily, his aim wasn’t too great, and even though you were hit by the bullet, it was in your shoulder, nowhere where the damage couldn’t be undone. You yelped, pushed back slightly by the force, hitting the brick wall behind you, completely caught off guard.

He doesn’t have a chance to redo his shot, because Emily is on it, aiming her gun at a particularly low area on his body.

“I’ve got a Glock leveled at your crotch. Nothing is stopping me from taking you and the little ones out right now, so I’d advise you to listen to my partner and drop your weapon.”

The second unsub falters at that, clearly not wanting to sacrifice his private parts just for the opportunity to maybe shoot two FBI agents and have even more charges against him than he already has. With her words, he slowly lowers down to the ground, placing his weapon down and sliding it across the ground to her.

She stops the gun while still never taking her eyes off him. “Now, hands behind your back.”

“Two unsubs? Two of them! How didn’t we know there were two of them?” She thinks aloud, pacing back and forth right in front of where you sit in the back of an ambulance. She runs a hand through her hair, sighing deeply.

“Em,” You drawl, looking at her with a look her brain, clouded by anger towards the man who hurt you, convinces her is betrayal, but in actuality is just concern.

“It’s my fault, you’re hurt and it’s my fault because I was so sure there was only one unsub.”

She winces at the memory of watching you get shot injury, her vision flashing back to the sight of you leaning yourself up against the wall, hand pressed over your shoulder, blood seeping through your fingers and down your sleeve.

“Emily, sit down and take a breath before you pass out and hit the ground and I’m no longer the only one sitting in the back of an ambulance, getting treated for a wound.”

“Right, you’re right, y/n,” she swallows, moving to sit down next to you on the edge of the ambulance. “It was just your shoulder, and we’ll be going back home soon. I didn’t mean to stress you out, it’s just I can’t stand seeing you in pain like how you were when he shot you.”

The EMT who’s treating your shoulder wound moves to your side, making room for Emily who’s now sitting on your left. You were shot in the right shoulder, so the EMT is still able to work on bandaging you up.

“I know Em, and you should know that it’s not your fault. None of us could have seen that turn of events happening, not even Reid, so don’t beat yourself up for it. And I also know you’re salty that Hotch won’t let you go over to the station to interrogate the man, but that’s most definitely for the best. I know what you’re like when you’re upset with someone for hurting the ones you love, and the guy seems like a pussy, I’m sure he would crap his pants.”

Emily lets out a small chuckle at your comment, the tension slowly dissipating from her features as she leans into your side. "You’re probably right, y/n," she admits, her voice softening with gratitude. "As much as I want to give that guy a piece of my mind, I know it's probably for the best if I leave it to Hotch, just this time."

You offer her a reassuring squeeze with the hand of your uninjured arm, a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity.

She meets your gaze, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion as she leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

She pulls back, smiling at you.

“You’re very strong, you know that y/n?”

You nod. “You remind me all the time.”

Emily breathily chuckles. “I mean it. You don’t let things like this phase you, and I admire that quality.”

This time you’re the one leaning in, pressing a kiss to her darkly-colored lips.

“Thank you for noticing, and for caring so deeply for me to the point that you get yourself all worked up about it. But also please don’t let your concern get to the level where you’re stressed like that, especially over something you didn’t have control over.”

“I can't make any promises.. but I will try, for you.” She seals her words with another kiss to your lips, the lips now tainted by her lipstick.

“All done,” the EMT says, pulling you two from your little shared moment.

“Let's get back to the station, y/n,” Emily says, hopping down from the vehicle and offering her hand to you, which you very gratefully accept.

[galacticgraffiti]

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead (3) ⋆☽⋆

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Summary: Feelings have been confessed, and what follows is... an explosion of the tension. Halsin thinks himself greedy when all he does is give.

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 4.3k Descriptors: Reader is smaller than Halsin and has female anatomy. CW: Halsin eats pussy and he does it like there is no tomorrow, praise, mutual softness, talks of marking each other up, Halsin is a poet in disguise, fingering, tons of foreplay, dirty talk; TLDR: oral (f!receiving) A/N: This fic is dedicated specifically to my beloved @pinkiemme who listens to me scream about Halsin and inspires me every day with her insane skill and talent. Special shoutout to @maybege for zooming through a quick beta-read for me- ily!

✦⋆ « Chapter (2) ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

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Chapter 3: The Lover

You are in heaven.

Halsin’s head is buried between your thighs, and there is nothing else you can think about but his tongue and his lips and his fingers and his nose and… him, just him and him and him.

Cold, hard stone digs into your back, but you don’t care as your fingers grab Halsin’s hair tighter, pulling at him, guiding him. He follows your silent commands easily, moaning as he buries his tongue deeper inside you.

You whine and whimper, hitting your head almost too hard as you let it fall back, trying to keep some tension in your body so you don’t slide down the wall.

****

Halsin had undressed you slowly, so slowly, as if you were not on fire by the mere idea of his touch. His skin kept rippling with golden shimmers, his eyes glowing in the dim light as his hands peeled layer after layer of clothing from you until you were bare before him.

“You, my heart, are… exquisite.” His voice is even more gravelly than usual, and you have to fight off the urge to press your thighs together as his eyes travel all over your vulnerable form.

“So beautiful,” he whispers as he leans down to kiss you. “The flowers already sing songs of your beauty as they grow, and the trees will whisper poems of my love for you for centuries to come. The grass will remember where we laid in it, and the stone where our hands touched it.”

“You’re sappy,” you laugh, relaxing a little at the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon in the fucking sky. “I adore you with all my heart, do you know that? My sweet bear.”

The growl that escapes him makes you quiver, his legs trembling as he fights for control.

“You-“ he interrupts himself, pressing up against you, larger than life, warmer than the sun. “Your tongue is dangerous, little flower. It’ll get you into trouble one of these days.”

You smile at him and pull him down for a kiss.

“Oh, I certainly hope so.”

Halsin groans, his tongue hot in your mouth, his hands all over you, roaming, caressing, grabbing-

And suddenly you’re hoisted up, your back pressed against ice cold stone, your legs struggling to wrap around Halsin’s middle. You gasp, overwhelmed by how sudden, how easy it seems for him to move you like this. Halsin carries you as if you weigh nothing at all. He puts you down on your bed so gently, kneeling to kiss the inside of your thigh with lips that make you shake from their touch.

His eyes are golden when he looks up at you, pulling at you until your thighs rest on his shoulders, his face pressed nearly where you need him. He hums and shivers, but he keeps control. For now.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “My flower, my very own. You smell heavenly- tell me you’ll let me taste you. Let me taste the honey of your thighs and I’ll never ask for anything again.”

Your cheeks burn, but you dig your heels into the muscles of his back, burying your hands in his long hair to hold onto him for dear life.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly, “Of course, my love, anything you want to, anything and it’s yours. You never have to ask for anything again- I’ll be here. I’ll provide whatever you want willingly, eagerly. I’ll never make you ask for anything again, I’m all yours, my love.”

Halsin smiles so softly that your heart stops beating for a moment.

“Mhhhm.” His lips leave a searing path on your skin where they touch you, travelling up and up your thighs, his hands holding you steady and pulling you closer. “I have to know if you taste as good as you smell, my heart. Let me…”

When you look down at him, you can see the face of the bear in the face of the man, his teeth nearly fangs, his fingers almost claws. It only makes you love him more.

“Taste me then,” you murmur, easing the grip of your hands in his hair, tilting your hips as best you can. “I want you, my love. I want to feel you- I want to be known by you, I want to be everything you need, just like you are to me. My bear, my beautiful strong bear...”

Halsin shudders, his entire body bathed in a golden glow. He exhales slowly, his kisses growing languid on their path to the apex of your thighs.

“Dangerous,” he mumbles. “I knew it. What would you do if the bear came out to play, hm? It’s- you have no idea how hard it is to control myself when I have you here- so willing, so eager- everything I want laid out right before me, my beautiful angel asking to be tasted-“

“If the bear wants that as well…” you hesitate for a moment trying to find the right words. “I’m yours, whichever form you may be in. My desire is for you and you alone; no more, no less. The bear can have me just as the man can.”

Halsin makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, trembling against you, his fingers digging into your thighs with sharper nails than they should have.

“Silvanus have mercy,” he growls, voice so low you can feel the walls of the cave shake around you. “To see you with those eyes- touch you with those claws- you would take it? For me?”

Gently, you unwrap your legs from him, and he gets the hint, sitting up straighter between your thighs. You pull at his shoulders until your noses touch. He’s so tall he can barely fit between your legs like this, but you don’t mind. No, you don’t mind at all.

You cup his jaw in your hand that seems too small to be real in comparison to his sheer size. Halsin nuzzles his face into the touch and kisses your palm. You smile.

“My love,I would take anything I could get as long as it’s from you,” you whisper softly. “You are… all I want. If you lose control- if it all gets too much- we can stop… or we can keep going. I’m fine with either just so long as you are.”

Halsin growls, a sound that makes your teeth vibrate now that he is so close to you. You think you can feel yourself drip as slick gathers between your thighs at the sound.

His hand comes up to hold your face, and you nuzzle into the touch just as he did with you.

“I shall try to contain myself, my heart,” he sighs. “…for now.”

“Mhhm.” You smile at him, and his eyes are so full of affection you can’t breathe. “You are wonderful, Halsin. I hope you know that- I hope you know how much I mean that when I say it. You are the best man I have ever known, the best person I could have dreamed of meeting.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, soft, but full of passion, your tongue in his mouth, his hands in your hair. A coil forms in your belly from his touch alone. When he pulls back, you tug at his shirt.

“Take this off for me? I want to see you.”

“Anything for you, my flower.” He pulls the shirt off easily, and you watch his movement with a hunger you didn't know you could feel, burning in your chest, igniting a wild fervour in your belly. An expanse of skin is revealed to you: the broadness of his shoulders, the soft hair on his chest, to roundness of his belly. You cherish every inch of him that you get to see. Halsin’s hands settle on your thighs again, covering them almost entirely, and you wonder what it would be like to carry the marks of his love on your skin.

Your cheeks heated from the thought, you can’t keep quiet anymore, you have to tell him, you have to-

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper. “Let me feel how strong you are, my beautiful bear. I would be proud to carry the evidence of your love on my skin- to feel it every time I moved.”

Halsin’s teeth are sharp like fangs when he grins at you.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can be, but… I wouldn't be opposed to seeing you covered in my fingerprints, little flower. Nor to my own back bearing the marks of your… excitement, if you were so inclined.”

You choke on air when his hands slip under your ass to pull you even closer to his face. Halsin produces a pillow from somewhere, stuffing it under your back, his eyes never leaving yours. The desire in his look burns you up, it sets you aflame. All you want to do is make him happy.

When you tell him that, his smile is blinding and his eyes glow like molten gold in the dim light.

“You make me happy all the time, my heart. I have not felt this much joy in decades, and then I found you.” Golden sparks dance in his hair when he kisses you again. “Now the only thing that could make me happier than I am in this moment would be tasting you. I have waited so long.”

You kiss his face, his jaw; the palms of his hands; anything you can possibly reach. Anything to make him feel as worshipped and loved as you feel beneath his touch.

“You have been so patient - more patient than I myself have been. If that is what you desire,” you whisper, letting yourself fall so easily in his presence, “... well, who would I be to deny you? I would give you everything I have and all that I am in a heartbeat.”

He kisses your thighs, sharp fingers digging into soft skin. His lips are soft and warm, and the contrast of his mouth that treats you so gently and the strength of the hands that hold you in place has you trembling.

He teases you just a little- taking his time, caressing you, his breath hot on your dripping cunt though he does not touch you just yet. You whine and moan and arch your hips until you feel him smile against you.

“This is what you want?” he asks again, his voice rough with desire.

“You are what I want.” You smile and cup his jaw in your hand. His eyes are aflame and his teeth sharper than they should be, but it does not scare you. It only confirms that you are what he wants, and all you feel is lust and deep affection. “Please, Halsin. I need to- I want to feel you.”

“Then you shall have me, my heart.”

Pleasure drowns out everything else when he finally puts his mouth on you. You sigh- already nearly a moan, the tension finally breaking only to build and build when you allow yourself to realise what is happening. This is Halsin; the mighty druid, on his knees for you, moaning into you as his tongue laps up the arousal that drips down your thighs.

You arch your back and press your cunt up into his face. Halsin groans, hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls at you, burying his tongue between your parted legs.

“You are the sweetest thing,” he breathes, “the sweetest thing I have tasted in all my centuries. You are- gods have mercy- I could drown in you and never come up for air. Nature must have had me in mind when it made you, sweet as honey with a voice that could make nightingales cry- and you have never sounded so sweet as you do when you moan for me.”

“Mhhm… go on.” You are practically purring like a wild cat under his touches, your body vibrating with tension and excitement. “I’m all yours, my love.”

“All mine,” he mumbles. His fingers seem to glow from the inside when he squeezes your hips. “All mine, and sweet as honey. Nature truly has outdone itself with you, my flower.”

You shiver, then moan when Halsin dives back down to press his flattened tongue against your clit. Your legs fall open even wider and you tilt your hips up to meet him. He growls in a way that reminds you of the bear inside him, and the thought only makes you wetter.

“Make me come for you, bear,” you moan. “Please, I want to come for you- I want your tongue buried inside me when I do, I want to taste myself on you when I kiss you while you fuck me. Please- Halsin, please-”

You can feel him shake with the strain of keeping his human shape, but his tongue is stroking your clit in just the right way and you can’t stop the litany of filth that falls from your lips.

“Just like that, my love- oh gods, oh- oh, fuck, fuck, do that again… again- have mercy, you’re too good at this, my love. D-don’t ever listen to me when I tell you to stop, I want you to keep doing this f- oh- forever, I never want to…”

Halsin does not hide how much he is enjoying himself. His fingers are digging into your soft flesh with bruising force, and he moans and growls unashamedly as he eats you out like a man starved. 

The moans that fall from your lips, the filthy noises it produces when he runs his tongue through the wetness of your cunt- everything echoes in the small cave and makes you feel the sensations thousandfold. Halsin’s eyes fly open when you gently tug at his hair, quietly asking for more. He obliges, his nose pressing against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, large hands keeping you right where he wants you, squeezing and holding. He takes no breaks, like he needs not air but only you to survive, and the coil in your belly starts to tighten with each stroke of his tongue.

“Let me hear you,” he breathes, barely raising his face from between your legs. “Let me hear you, my heart, tell me what feels good.”

“You feel good,” you whimper, your head light with pleasure. “It’s like you can tell- like you know exactly what I need. Halsin- H- fuck, oh gods, right there, you- mh- you are so good to me, so good to me… I wanna come on your tongue, my love, please let me- please make me- gods, I want everything with you, I want to be filled until I can’t move, I want your bruises on my thighs and to have you inside me all day and all n-night - fuck - to be yours and only yours, my bear, my bear Halsin-”

His growl this time is distinctly animalistic, and when you open your eyes, Halsin’s whole body is coated in golden light, glowing from the inside out, his eyes illuminating your skin.

“You will be my ruin, angel,” he groans. “Your words will make me come undone before you even touch me- to taste you, to be the reason of your ecstasy is all I have wanted for so long. Come for me, my heart, be good and come for me so I can fill you the way you deserve to be filled, be yours and- make you mine, just as nature intended.”

His mouth descends onto you again, licking and sucking, his tongue pressing against you in a way that makes lightning run through your body. You cry out and buck your hips, and Halsin repeats the movement, over and over and over until you are right at the edge of pure bliss.

“For me,” he groans into you, his voice making your whole body vibrate. “For me, come for me, little flower.”

He closes his lips around your clit and sucks, and in an explosion of ecstasy, you are done for faster than you can warn him.

“Bear, I'm going to- f-fuck- don’t st- Halsin!”

The pleasure sweeps you off your feet. Nothing could have prepared you for an orgasm like this - sudden and all-encompassing, so intense it nearly borders on pain as you arch your hips and curl your fingers into Halsin’s hair. His tongue laps at you, drinking in every last drop of you until your legs shake uncontrollably and you are begging him to stop.

When you manage to open your eyes and unclasp your hands from the sheets, Halsin is grinning up at you mischievously, his face wet with you, his eyes still glowing as he licks his lips.

“The sweetest honey I have ever tasted.” He laps at your cunt again and you shudder. A new wave of arousal buries you at the feeling of his tongue inside you as he looks up at you. 

“You-” your voice is barely more than a breath. “You are incredible, my love, do you know that? Fuck- oh, don’t- please, it’s so much-”

Halsin pulls back, a smile still wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I thought you never wanted me to stop, my heart.”

In the time it takes you to wring an answer from your blissed out brain, a new coil has already begun to form deep in your belly at the mere thought of being touched by him once more. Your brain stumbles over the words, and while Halsin is not touching you, the promise of More hangs so heavy in the air it’s enough to make you shake with anticipation.

Halsin’s voice breaks the fog that has settled on your mind.

“Are you lost for words, little flower? Already?”

“D-don’t tease me,” you breathe shakily. “You know your skill well-”

“Hmm, I’ve had centuries to practise. Your body is… a miracle. As if nature intended you for me, all this time.”

Halsin sits up between your legs, kissing your thighs. You stretch out your arms to him.

“Come here, my love. Let me kiss you.”

“No hardship for me,” he laughs, pushing himself up on the bed and settling against you. “You did so well for me, my heart. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and your voice moaning my name is the most exquisite song nature has ever devised.”

Your cheeks flush with heat, and you bite your lip. You can feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, yet here he is, singing your praises without expecting anything in return.

“You are too good to me,” you sigh. “And yet here I am, still wanting more.”

Halsin cocks his head, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“More?”

“Mmhm.”

When he bends down to kiss you, you half expect a gentle kiss and the promise of more some other time, but you are wrong. His lips are searing, and when he pulls back, his eyes are pure fire, his fingers claws as he rips them from your body.

“Please.” You are begging - you are pleading. Nothing in the world could make you want to stop in this moment. “Go on, my love. I want to feel you- I want to have you inside me, and I want to make you feel good the way you did for me.”

Halsin growls and twitches, hands slamming down on either side of your head, his large body hovering above you.

“Once I start, I might- what if I can't stop?” He sounds nearly afraid. “It’s been so long, my heart. Have you any idea the way my blood burns at the mere thought of getting to fill you, getting to make you mine?”

You stroke his face.

“I trust you,” you whisper. You run your hand down the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch as sparks of wild magic dance across Halsin’s body. “If I ask you to stop, you will. Though… I can’t imagine I would ever want you to.”

The groan that escapes from his throat sounds almost pained. Halsin buries his face in the crook of your neck, lowering himself down until you can feel his cock drag against your soaked cunt when he moves.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Fuck- bear, please… please.”

A shiver runs through him at the urgency in your voice.

“Ask me again,” he groans, hips bucking into you, his arms shaking. You loop your hands around his neck and pull him down to you until your lips nearly touch.

“Fuck me,” you say, quiet but firmly. “...please, bear. Halsin-”

The breath is punched from your lungs when he kisses you, his lips searing, panting and moaning into the kiss as he rocks into you.

His hand slips between your bodies, two fingers dipping inside you and the glow in his eyes intensifies.

“My heart- you are one of nature’s great wonders. You feel-” he breaks off as his fingers press deeper and you arch your back to meet his movement.

He fucks you open slowly, patiently - first two fingers, thicker than three of your own, and when you whine and plead and beg for more; he gives you three. You sigh and whimper, calling out his name between sounds of pleasure. 

Halsin knows exactly what you need - what your body needs. His fingers curl just right, and the smile on his face is one of pure joy. He watches as you lose yourself in the feeling of him, as you grind down your hips to somehow take more, as your hands grip the sheets until your knuckles pale. He praises you through it, his voice soft and gentle and full of awe.

You are not a god, but you have never felt more worshipped.

It’s a lot - so much you have to hold back tears of pleasure. Halsin slows for a moment, noticing your tension, but you beg him to go on and he obliges, his motions smooth and assured.

“The stars pale in comparison to your beauty,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your face, while his hands never stop moving. “Nature has made you immaculate, has made you its boldest creation, the crown jewel of its heavenly bodies. To have you here with me… to get to feel you around me and see your face shine with the pleasure I can bring you- it’s more than I deserve, more than I ever thought I would get.”

His words make your heart stumble, but your body gives you no break to respond as your legs start to shake and the heat in your belly nearly explodes. You are shaking all over, your mind just as desperate as your body. Halsin’s fingers inside you make you feel so full already, and the way he looks at you makes you tremble with affection.

The hard length of his cock presses against your thigh once more when he shifts. Nothing in Halsin’s face betrays how painfully hard he must be- how desperate he must be for release. You want to feel him- you have to feel him inside you, you want to know what it is like- you want to see his face blossom with the same bliss he brings you, and the thought of that brings you to the edge again.

“Halsin-” you breathe, gripping his biceps with an iron grip, writhing beneath him. “Halsin- my love- please, if you keep doing this, I’m going to-”

“Good.” His brow is shining with sweat, and the expression on his face is something between hunger and bliss. “Good. Because I want more.”

Your head is foggy with pleasure, but that notion parts the veil around you for a moment.

“More?” Your voice sounds brittle next to his deep baritone. “Then-”

“Mhhm.” he hums, working his fingers deeper, grinding down against the bed. “More. Give me one more and I’ll have you, my heart. Just as it was intended, just one more is all I need…”

Your head falls back as you cry out, your legs starting to shake. He curls his fingers just so, and stars flicker through your vision.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Don't- anything, my love, I’ll do anything- just d-don’t stop, please, please I want to feel you, I want to know- I have to know what it is like to be full with you…”

Halsin grunts, curling his fingers again and again as soft lips kiss your jaw, your neck, your breasts.

“Then come for me,” he commands gently. “You can do that, can’t you? Let me be greedy just this once…”

That nearly does you in. After all that, he still thinks himself greedy for wanting to bring you pleasure?

“Fuck!” Your blissed out brain has such a way with words. “Fuck, bear- I’m gonna-”

The palm of his hand presses against your cunt as he sinks his fingers impossibly deeper, and then, all at once, you are done for. You can feel yourself gush, wetness dripping from Halsin’s fingers as you die a thousand little deaths of ecstasy, your mind exploding into bolts of lightning.

Vaguely, you perceive Halsin’s calm voice talking, speaking to you as if through a cloud. 

After a few moments, you realise it is not only you he is speaking to. He is calming himself down, willing the bear to stay dormant. Your walls flutter weakly, and when you open your eyes, Halsin is smiling down at you.

“You did so well for me, little flower. Never have my eyes seen anything more beautiful than you, and I doubt they ever will again.”

You blink slowly, trying to ground yourself back in reality. When you move, you hear the sound his fingers make when they glide out of you, and heat rises in your cheeks. He has given you so much, and yet all you want is…

“More?”

Halsin’s smile lights up the room.

“You, my heart, are insatiable.” He kisses you, his lips soft on yours, his tongue greedy in your mouth. “I’m glad you are- so am I.”

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

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[bits-and-babs]

can u do a konig with kink in primal play ? we need him being a big wolf !

𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐊𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍 – 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : a big bad wolf chases you down in the woods, desperate for a taste of you.

pairing: könig x redridinghood!reader

warnings : 18+ mdni. pre-agreed scenario, meaning consensual non-consent. hunter x prey, roleplay, degradation, oral (f receiving), p in v sex.

könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Each thundering footstep of your shoes snaps twigs beneath the weight of your body, the splintering bark sounding off like canon fire as you sprint down the forest path. Distressed heaves of your chest ignored your desperate attempts to quieten your heavy breathing, palm clamped over your mouth doing little to smother the shuddering exhales.

Your wicker basket lays discarded on the path behind you, freshly picked berries oozing blood-red juice onto the pebbled trail. The petrifying viridescent eyes you'd noticed in the tree-line burn into your back as you flee. The cottage is just up ahead– you could reach it.

He's behind you. It's silent amongst the Austrian treeline, birds halting their song as he stealthily moves through the blanket of bushes and tree canopy. 

Stumbling over the nettles that prickled the skin of your ankles, you desperately attempt to conceal yourself from the incoming threat. You hurl your back against a tree trunk, hearing the pathetic whimper that slipped past your lips when the splintering bark sank into your shoulders. Sharp pain stings at your flesh as you crouch low to the ground. 

Muzzling your lips with both palms, you all but suffocate yourself while trying to conceal the small, fearful noises you made. Each beat of a crow's wing and falling leaf caused a jolt of fear to fragment through your nervous system, eyes scanning the treeline uneasily. 

"You must have a good hiding spot, Rotkäppchen," a lilting accent cut through the quiet forest, causing you to squeeze your eyes tight in terror. Every muscle in your body pulls taut, and your skin goose-pimples as though he'd doused you in ice-cold water. 

Blindly grasping at the fabric that dangled from your shoulders, you wrap the crimson material of your cape around your body in a final, wretched attempt to hide from the predatory gaze of his bottle-green eyes. 

"I will find you. When I do..." his playful tone dissipates in a moment's silence, hesitating before delivering his threat. "I'll swallow you whole."

Your knuckles blanch with how tightly you grasped the hem of your little red cape, muscles straining under the immense pressure you applied to the soft, malleable fabric. 

"They say that fear makes you taste sweeter," the lurking danger continues his twisted lecture as you breathe carefully through your terror. In for five, out for five— "All the pumping blood in your veins- makes you taste like honey, so I hear." 

The twisted comments flip your stomach, bile threatening to launch up your oesophagus. 

"Never have I craved something as badly as you," the pitchiness in his voice makes your hair stand on end, undeniably earnest in his admission. "And I feel that I have—…."

A soft, tracing touch circles your ankles like ivy before quickly locking around the bone in a vice-like grip. Dread chills the lining of your stomach, and blood pools beneath your skin. You stand no chance. 

"Got you."

You let out a shriek, kicking your feet out at your attacker as you try to escape his impossibly tight grasp. Dark, gleeful chuckles raise goosebumps across your skin and prickle the hair at the base of your neck as König drags you towards him. The bottomless black pits of his pupils swallow his verdant irises as they sweep the length of your body beneath the hood he wore.

"Meine Rotkäppchen," König coos, his mammoth palm resting over your lips to stifle the sobs of fear wracking your chest. The wolfish grin that spreads across his lips when he hears your trembling breaths causes your pulse to surge, adrenaline kicking your basic bodily functions into overdrive. "Hush, sweet thing. Just a taste, that's all I ask." 

Manipulating your body at will, König forces you into place by pushing his knee into your hip. It hurts, the crushing weight against the bone causing further bruising to your soft flesh as the brute leers down at you.

Squeezing your eyes shut quickly, you try to suck oxygen into your burning lungs. You can feel König paw at your bare thighs, bunching your skirt as he greedily grasped the supple flesh in his palms. 

"You smell divine," he whispers, refusing to acknowledge your feeble, pathetic attempts to shake his hold, "Mhmm..."

One of König's hands grasps at the hem of his hood, lifting the fabric ever so slightly. He leans down, slick tongue tracking your jugular to taste the sweat clinging to your flesh. A soft groan rumbles in his chest, delighted by the appetiser. 

It's disgusting, mortifying, but warmth pools at the base of your spine as König's teeth nip at your flesh, sucking dark hickeys into your skin. It's as though he's claiming his 'kill', celebrating his successful hunt. 

"Hng-" A quiet noise slips from your open mouth, eyelids fluttering as König slips his hand between your thighs. Ashamedly, you do little to fight his touch as he traces his fingertips towards your core. 

A pause, bated and thick. König's eyes snap to your face pointedly, green irises reduced to a slither of jade circling the circumference of his inky pupils. 

"Rotkäppchen," he addresses you steadily, regaining his composure almost as quickly as he'd lost it. König's index finger presses between the soaked lips of your cunt, slowly tracing up the seam of your sex. "It's dangerous in the woods. You know this, yes?"

Quivering beneath his delicate touch, you whimper as you jerk your chin down in a nod. König's fingerprint steadily rises, pausing its ascent just before the arch of your swollen clit. 

"Then... You would understand the carelessness of abstaining from wearing panties," he muses, smugness dripping from his tone like drool from a beast's jowls. It equally disgusts and delights you. You can hear the slickness between your shaking thighs and feel the chill against the wetness smeared across your bare skin. 

Pulsing ardently, your clit betrays your fear as it begs for König's touch. Pressure builds in your abdomen, coiling tight as your attacker's touch skirts just beyond its reach. 

"Why would you take such a risk?" He asks rhetorically, watching the pinch of your brow and the drop of your jaw as you arc your hips upwards, chasing his touch. "Unless you wished to be ravished?"

It's sudden, without warning, but König's fingers sink deep into your weeping cunt. You gasp in surprise, your back aching from the damp soil when you dig your fingers into the earth. He groans, ravenous for a taste of you, as he buries his fingers deep inside your fluttering cunt. 

He gathers the wetness of your cunt onto his fingers, pushing the length of his digits down to the knuckle before withdrawing entirely. Sobbing, you shake your head pitifully as you watch that same hand disappear beneath the fabric of his hood. 

Those blackened eyes are easy to read, his thick, dark lashes fluttering when he places his soaked fingers against his tongue. Again, his self-control slips beyond his grasp momentarily, a devastated groan reverberating in König's chest as he relishes your taste. He barely allows himself a moment of satisfaction, already removing his knuckles from his mouth to devour more of you.

"Taste so sweet, Rotkäppchen," he marvels, enormous hands grasping at your shins and ignoring your protests as he pushes your knees against your chest, "And you're all mine."

Wailing as König's head dips between the pillowy flesh of your thighs, you find yourself unable to oppose the drag of his tongue as it traces over your swollen clit. It circles the flesh there delicately, savouring the sensation of it on his tongue. 

"Ko-ohhh-" you choke on his name, toes curling helplessly as every muscle in your body locks up at the delectable sensation. He switches the direction of his circles now, twisting back the opposite way. You must be soaking his face, the sparks of pleasure building in the pit of your stomach wetting your thighs with your slick. 

The branches and stones beneath you dig uncomfortably into your back, but you barely notice, thanks to König's velvety tongue sweeping through your drenched pussy lips. An earth-shuddering rumble vibrates through his chest, the sensation arching up your spine. 

Spreading your knees further apart, you present yourself to him, will him to use you however he likes. König doesn't need to grapple with your hips. You're rocking them up into his face to meet the sensation of your building orgasm. If your unhinged movements frustrate him, König doesn't complain; he simply enjoys the feeling of you smearing your pussy across the tip of his nose and his mouth. 

Something about the eroticism, the filthiness, of this makes your orgasm arc painfully up your spine. 

"Ko-König-" you heave frantically, fingers grasping at the dark fabric draped over his skull, "König, I'm g-gonna-"

König's hands push your hips down, forcing them still in the overgrowth beneath you. His lips seal around your abused clit, sucking at it gently while flicking his tongue against it over and over and over again. You can't stop it- can't brace against the sensation as it detonates through you without warning. 

Everything surges upwards, hot and slick. You arch against the burst of bliss, sobbing out König's name repeatedly. Each utterance sounds more broken than the last, breathier, whimpering and whining. 

He doesn't even give your waves of ecstasy a chance to ebb. You only just hear the sound of him spitting into his palm over the heaving of your chest, the subsequent slick glide of him smearing it over the length of his obscenely large cock causing your arousal to flare up again. 

"Kon-"

He eases his way into you without resistance, his thick, mushroomed head dragging against your walls just right. König breaks you open achingly slowly, and it's fucking exhilarating. You take every inch of him, squeezing the length and delighting in how König's cock jerks at your cunt gripping him. He bottoms out easily, his hips pushing against the curve of your ass and his pubic bone grinding into your clit. 

You see stars amongst the forest canopy. 

"Oh fuck– Oh– Please König, p-lease–" your whines are pathetic, pitchy and raw, but König's cock lurches again. The head bumps something utterly debilitating inside you, and your eyes roll back into your skull. 

"Hush," König urges you, his cock slipping out of you. God, you can hear the sickeningly wet sounds your cunt makes when it loses him– only for him to glide right back in. He sets a slow, firm rhythm that blinds you, white static prickling across your vision. 

You're not sure how much you were moving, but König's huge paw lays flat against the valley of your breasts, pinning you down with his body weight as he forces you to take the languid, greedy roll of his hips as they sink deeper and deeper into you. 

"König!" you sob mindlessly, tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill down the apples of your searing-hot cheeks. 

"Shhh," he urges you again, rocking into you a little harder at the sound of your desperate pleas, "I can't- Need you to stay quiet–"

Wailing, agonised, you claw at his forearms. They're still clothed with a camo jacket, preventing your nails from biting at his skin. "Please!" 

"Scheisse," König wheezes, "You– You need it faster? Is that what you want?" He doesn't give you an opportunity to answer, amping up the pace of his rocking hips before you can even form a response in your mind. You sob loudly, grasping at foliage that crunches beneath your solid grip. 

"Please don't stop!" You beg him, voice frantic as he bludgeons that spot inside of you that blasts splintering shards of euphoria. "Please don't st– pleasedon'tstoppleasepleaseplease–" 

König curses, bracing his knees into the forest floor before slamming his hips into you as hard as he can manage. His palm on your chest skirts to the right, grasping your breast and squeezing at it until it bulges between his fingers. You're lifting your hips to meet his now, jaw falling slack as he prods that spot inside you while grinding his pubic bone against your throbbing clit. It's merciless. 

"Fuck, I will ruin you," König's voice sounds disembodied to your ears, his pitch desperate as though the words are slipping out against his will. He pulls you forward onto him, rocking impossibly deeper into you until you're sinking your fingers into the earth to hold yourself in place against his savage thrusts. "You— You won't be able t-to walk when I'm do-done with you, Rotkäppchen—"

It's coming. Fuck, it's coming, and it's devastating. You whimper, almost trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure that threatens to crash over you. König grasps your wrists, pinning you to the floor and fucking you over the edge. 

It eviscerates you. You choke out a wordless cry as the white-hot sparks of your orgasm rip through your nervous system. Your thighs are trembling, your back arching, and you feel fat tears smear down your cheeks. 

"Mei— Meine Perle," you hear König groan, forgetting the dynamic he was playing as he chases bliss, "I… Scheisse— I love you, I f-fucking— love—"

He gasps, loud and sharp, as his hips stutter. It's sloppy, his pace thrown as he grinds as deep as he can into your wet heat. König stutters to a halt, leaning down to bury his face in your neck when he cums. His cock throbs, spurting warm ropes of cum inside of you. 

When the heaving of your chests finally settle, you can hear the birds twittering. You're both spent, catching your breath as you lay amongst the fallen, browning foliage and cling to one another. 

"Mhm-" König lifts his head slowly, the fabric of his mask brushing at the skin of your cheek, your chin. "I forgot to continue acting." 

His voice is shy, accent heavy as he presses apologetic kisses to your cheek. You can't help but giggle. 

"It's okay," you whisper, stroking your palm down the ginormous, rippling expanse of his back. You feel him inhale slowly, taking in your scent as he clutches you closer to him. 

"You do look good in red, Perle," he murmurs, pulling teasingly as the ridiculous cape he'd pinned to you hours before. You can hear the smile on his lips. 

"Thank you. I like it when you're mean," you admit, and you feel König's body shake with a chuckle. He lifts himself from you slowly, those viridescent irises returning to their typical expanse as he gazes at you lovingly. He's high on dopamine, but you'd never doubt his love and affection for you. 

Even when he grasped at you, attacked you, you knew you were safe. 

"There's a bed to climb into," he reminded you of the cottage he'd booked. Naturally, you'd scoffed at the ridiculousness of his insistence in order to make it as believable as possible. Now, though? You were just glad there wasn't a three-hour drive home. 

"What's in it for me?" you sigh. Other than the cosy mattress, instead of the rough leaves and sharp twigs you lay awkwardly on now? 

"I can find it in myself for seconds," König mused, his hands gently grasping your thighs again. 

"You big, bad wolf," you tease, and you swear you see the corners of König's eyes crinkle as he smiles beneath the hood. 

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[togrowoldinv]

Sinking Sand

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Wanda finds her way back into your life and you can’t resist her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, needy Wanda, oral (W receiving), thigh riding, Wanda being 🔥

Note: I woke up thinking about her so here we go. Enjoy!

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear a knock at your door. You look through the glass and are surprised to see the woman you broke up with last week.

Actually, you’re not sure if you can even call it a break up. You were never really dating. Just keeping each other company, or at least that’s what she called it.

That misconception of what you were ultimately led to the end of whatever it was. Or so you thought. Why would Wanda be at your door anyway, you wonder.

For better or worse, you open the door for her. Wanda has a smile on her face, but you don’t reflect it.

“What are you doing here?” You ask her.

“I missed you,” Wanda says simply.

“You don’t get to say that,” you reply. “Not after last week.”

“Oh, come on sweetheart. Can’t we just go back to what we’re good at?”

Wanda crosses the threshold of your apartment. You sigh and shut the door. She’s not going to make this easy.

“Shouldn’t you be off with your ex husband?” You ask her.

“Honey, I am not sleeping with him,” Wanda says.

She takes off her coat to reveal a gown that is definitely not meant to be worn out in public. You curse yourself for letting your eyes drop to her breasts.

“Well, we’re not sleeping together either,” you try and hold your ground.

She sees your stance slipping though. Like a house built on sand, you won’t withstand the storm that is Wanda.

Wanda sits on your couch and doesn’t have the decency to cross her legs. You know she’s not wearing panties under that gown. She never is.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she says, catching your gaze. She pats the spot next to her but you sit further away.

Wanda scoots closer to you and closes the gap. Her thigh brushes against your leg. You try not to react, but she knows what she does to you.

“How- um- how are the boys?” You try to distract her and yourself.

“Just fine,” Wanda replies. She leans in closer and is just inches from you. “Their mommy needs some help though.”

“Wanda,” you warn. “We called this off.”

“So let’s call it back on,” Wanda brushes off the seriousness of your tone. “Please, baby. Would you deny me this?”

Wanda’s lips move to your neck. She leaves hot, open mouthed kisses there as she grabs your hand. She takes your hand to guide it where she wants it.

You can’t take it anymore, so you stand up from the couch. Wanda groans in frustration.

“Y/n,” Wanda says. She reaches her hand out for you. “It’s okay. Come back.”

“Wanda, this back and forth is not healthy.”

“But we were having fun, y/n.”

“Wanda, it’s not about fun. You need to start acting your-“ you stop yourself short of calling her out for the obvious.

“My what?” She stands up and walks to you. You take steps backwards until you’re pressed against the wall. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

“It’s nothing, Wanda,” you say. “Forget it.”

“It’s not nothing,” she says. She pins your arms to your side and slips her leg between yours.

“It’s just- you’re older than me,” you say, not quite making eye contact. Wanda grips your face to make you look at her.

“I thought you liked that I’m older than you,” Wanda says. Her voice comes out a low growl. “That I’m a desperate mother who needs you to make her feel so fucking good.”

“I did like that, but-“

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Wanda says.

She takes control and kisses your lips. You let her deepen the kiss. When her tongue brushes against yours, you realize that any resolve you had is gone. You’re doing this.

“I want you to fuck me so hard,” Wanda says between kisses. “I missed the way only you make me feel.”

You feel on fire on at her words. Pushing her back to the couch, you lift her gown over her head. She’s not wearing any undergarments, as you suspected.

You kiss every inch of her. Her collar bone that perfectly frames her body, her silky neck, her nipples, the perfect valley between her breasts, all the way down to her dripping pussy.

“Fuck,” Wanda moans as you bury your face between her legs. “Please baby.”

“I’ve got you, Wanda,” you say against her.

The whines Wanda lets out are the best sounds you’ve ever heard. You missed making her like this. She unfolds under your touch.

You take her clit into your mouth and Wanda’s hips move to be impossibly closer to you. She puts her hand on your head to push you closer into her. Your hand reaches up to grip Wanda’s breasts.

“I’m so close, sweetheart,” Wanda says. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

Wanda’s movements become erratic before she comes hard against your mouth. You don’t move your mouth away until Wanda is pushing you away.

“Fuck, baby,” Wanda says. Her voice is breathy.

You kiss her lips and she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. Wanda pulls you up onto her lap and you straddle her lap.

Even through your pants, you feel the wetness pooling in your underwear. Wanda taps your hips and you stand up. She unbuttons the pants and kisses your lower belly with every second she spends on taking your pants off.

Wanda pulls your underwear down with your pants and brings you back to her lap. Your core brushes against her thigh. She doesn’t miss the way you shudder.

“Wanda,” you breathe out.

“Do you want to fuck yourself on mommy’s thigh?” Wanda asks, her voice dripping with lust.

“Please,” you say.

Wanda’s hands help move your hips over her thigh. You kiss her as you grind against her thigh. It’s hard to breathe but you don’t mind.

This reminds you how much you love being with Wanda. She has a way of making you feel like the only person in the world.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart. I feel so good,” Wanda says. “You’re so wet. I want you to come against my thigh.”

“Fuck,” you mumble against her lips.

Wanda moves your hips quicker and you come hard against her thigh. You bury your face into the place between her shoulder and neck. The perfect place to be.

She kisses your head and holds you close. You remember this part too. She makes you feel loved even though it’s no more than hooking up.

“Y/n, thank you for opening the door,” Wanda says. You nod against her. “Can we do this again?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” Wanda says.

She smiles to herself as you rest in her arms. Maybe next time she’ll tell you that she felt like it was more than just a hook up. But for now, she’ll be here to make you feel good over and over again.

[n3ptoonz]

'In For It'

THANKS FOR 200+❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Liu Kang/GN!Assassin!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: SMUTTY EXPLICIT IM TALKIN NASTYYY, pwp, spanking, BJ/face-fcking, reader is bound in chains, fingering, reader is a traitor!!, crying, begging, rough seggs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, hair pulling, you pissed off a god bro WHAT WERE YOU THINKING

reference post

Word count: 2.3k+

Were you crazy? To be swayed by a man like Shang Tsung was a punishable crime by God, and it certainly was about to be. You didn't exactly choose war with a God, but you were in for it. You defied peace the day you chose to not learn from Bi-Han's betrayal and go off on your own selfish path.

You were caught slipping. Making the foolish and arrogant decision to bring yourself back to his mansion. Thinking you could sneak in and take him out per Shang Tsung's request. He set you up for failure, and he knew this. However, instead of being sentenced to death like he thought would happen, there you sat: on your knees before the God of Fire and tears in your eyes. The cold chain around your neck and wrists behind your back clanging around in the silent room made shivers run down your spine.

Your weapon of choice was split in half on the ground behind you, nearly everything knocked over in the room. Any mortal that was able to piss off such a merciful and gracious God had to be out of their mind, and Liu Kang had no shame letting you know that.

"You disobey me, run off with the same sorcerer that tore apart Earthrealm's main defense, and come back here with the foolishly arrogant idea that you could kill me. Am I getting that right?" he said, pulling you forward as you were in between his thighs. He sat above you with his glowing eyes burning through your gaze, and the cloth that barely covered his dick sat right next to your face.

You had nothing to say. Humiliation ran its course throughout your entire body. What the hell were you thinking? Defeating a God? Seriously? Shang Tsung's words must have really been sweet like honey in order for anybody to just up and believe they could take out a God that was once betrayed by someone he thought highly of.

"Nothing to say? You only planned to bring my head to him as a gift, and no witty remark? Open your mouth." he demanded. You looked up at him confused and beads of tears at the corners of your eyes. Was he asking you to say something? Or literally open your mouth?

Your tears meant nothing to him. Neither did the shivering of your bare body in front of him. He used his free hand to grab both sides of your face and physically part your lips.

"I said to open your mouth." he repeated, gesturing for you to follow his orders. You slowly did so and waited for his next commands.

"Tongue out." he said. As soon as you did that too, he simply removed the cloth and took his dick in his hand to hold it in front of your face; right between your eyes.

"You don't want to be my warrior? Fine. You want mercy? Earn it." he continued, pulling you forward and directly over his lap. The mere sight of him half flaccid and still looking relatively big enough to fill your entire mouth made your head spin. It didn't help that the man before you was full of tattoos that complimented his figure and personality so well.

You slightly leaned forward and attempted to take all of him in your mouth in one go. You had stopped just an inch above the base before the tip kissed the back of your throat. He groaned at the warm wet feeling of your tongue sliding against the underside. Before you could go back up, he kept your head there for a moment. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of you regulating your strained breaths.

Tears began to form in your eyes again, but the power he was asserting over you was turning you on to another level. You couldn't help but softly moan against him, earning a chuckle rumbling through his chest.

"So you enjoy this? I should've know you blatantly went against me for a reason other than glory." he said, pulling your head up by your hair and hearing you gasp at the new air that filled your lungs. Your eyes were teary, nose was sniffing, and yet the smug smile was back onto your face. It was starting to excite you, and he knew this.

He dipped you back in again, this time at a set pace. The grip on your hair never let up. This was your punishment whether you liked it or not, and he wasn't going to be any nicer anytime soon.

You could literally feel him fully get hard as you sucked him off. The lewd sounds you made every time you went down deliciously filled the room, alongside the chains of course. The pace only got faster and faster as he used you as he pleased, and you honestly started to wonder if you could get off untouched like this. Anyone would be a lying fool to say Liu Kang wasn't sexy as fuck. So to be used like this by him? It'd be crazy if you didn't get off.

He was getting closer to his climax as he bobbed your head up and down. It was up until now when he decided to stop your head at the base again to cum down your throat, the tip bypassing the uvula to successfully not escape your mouth.

"Ahh yes, take all of it." he said, fully letting go of your hair to let you breathe again. But your "freedom" didn't last very long as he took your jaw into his hand. "You think I didn't notice you desperately trying to squeeze your thighs together for friction? Poor soul."

He released the chains around your neck, but not your wrists, so they remained behind you. You shakily stood up as he told you to, feeling the blood rush back to your legs, but quickly got pulled over his knees. He had you across his lap and ass up, letting his warm hand palm your ass with no shame. You surely knew how to keep your ass maintained if nothing else through training, and he secretly loved that the most about you.

"Do you want me to take you? Yes or no?" he asked, squeezing at the soft flesh. Your next words would've surely came out shaky, as it was difficult to think straight with the most powerful man in the world caressing your ass like this. All you could muster was a whimper, but he didn't like that.

His hand came down harshly on your left cheek before he rubbed it, causing you to writhe and wriggle in protest, but his other hand was able to keep you in place.

"I will ask one more time. Do you want to be taken by a God? Once you experience heaven through sex with one, you'll come crawling back when I'm finished with you. I won't be doing any of the sort until you verbally express your feelings."

You pant and whine beneath him. You so desperately needed to be fucked by him so badly, you couldn't even recognize yourself. Just an hour ago you swore to the Elder Gods you hated his guts. And now you wanted him to rearrange yours.

"Please, Lord Liu Kang..." you said, voice just above a whisper. You hadn't called him that in a while, and how easily it rolled off the tongue after you claimed you wanted him dead just as bad as Shang Tsung did, it was really a mystery.

"Please, what?" he asked sternly, purposely running his ring and middle finger along your hole. He knew this would elicit brain fog further into your mind. He could feel you shudder from this, even your teeth slightly chattering.

"I need you...to fuck me...I-I want to experience good dick from a God, please- I can't-" your words slurred as you kept talking, and the room around you became fuzzier by the second. You were dangerously in need of this man inside of you and you needed it now.

He hummed in satisfaction from your response, allowing his two fingers to enter you slowly just to see what would happen. He'd be glad to fulfill your desires, even if you were a traitor to your own realm. But who would he be if you just gave in so easily? You still had to learn your lesson.

You silently cursed the deeper he went. The way you swallowed his fingers was a wonderful sight to him on its own, so he had even more reason to drag this out as long as he wanted to.

"Please- Fuck-" you mumbled, now remembering this wasn't supposed to be a straight up fun time for you. You were still the same one who dared to go against Fire God Liu Kang.

He didn't acknowledge you and just kept going at a slow pace. In, out, in, out. Subconsciously your body lifted to meet his rhythm and get him to somehow get a little deeper, but he pulled back and slapped your ass again.

"You will wait." is all he said, soothing the spot he just hit. You want to cry and throw a tantrum. You'd think the normal way of torture--something like getting beaten up or slapped around for your wrongdoings, maybe even a death threat--would be easier to handle than whatever the fuck this was. He's just too good at this. It made you start to rethink your life decisions.

He fingered you once more, this time faster so you could reach climax quicker. You moaned loudly with every pump, not knowing you'd feel that burn in your abdomen so quick. You pleaded over and over again just for this release.

Right as he felt you squeeze around his fingers...he stopped. There was no time to express the devastation that was the sudden emptiness as he quickly picked you up and pushed you against the nearest wall with your back facing him. You lightly winced at the cold feeling of it pressing against your cheek, but was all too focused on getting demolished.

He pressed himself against you, letting himself hang between your ass to hear you whimper and softly cry. "Some assassin you are. Begging for me to be buried deep inside you, I should've had you beg for your life, but that time has passed, hasn't it?"

He wrapped one arm around you as he quickly and harshly slipped inside without warning, waking you from whatever trance he had you under. He kept his hips still while you adjusted to his size. Everything around you was becoming warped and blurry, there was some drool already forming at the corner of your mouth.

"There was no need to disobey me. Had you expressed this dire need for me before, there would've been a chance at me considering it." he said, pulling back and thrusting into you again with the same force. You cried out in pleasure mixed with pain, but you wanted more. You squirmed in his hold while squeezing against him to signal for him to move. With that action alone, you were met with a dark chuckle behind you.

He gave in this time by moving his hips, but the pace started agonizingly slow. "When I first got word of your treachery, I thought you incorrigible. Now? I should've figured you acted out to get me out of character. Do you regret coming back here to finish me? Hm?"

"N...No..." was really all you could say. Before all of this came to be, you two had fought it out. You were certain you could at least hurt him well enough to report back to Shang Tsung. A small part of you was okay with losing to him though...From the moment his hand was on your throat, your quest to defeat him was a lost cause.

"Didn't think so." he said while increasing the pace. Your legs were on the brink of collapse with how good he felt; him hitting that spot effortlessly.

"Ah! Liu Kang, please-!" you pulled against your restraints, only seconds away from release. Right at the last second, Liu Kang pulled right out, but didn't let go of you. Your eyes were now full of tears once again, being reduced to a sniffling mess. He shushed you as he rubbed circles on your waist.

"Tell me one thing, and you'll have your release." he said, "After today, are you going to come after me again?"

"No! No, I swear, my Lord. I won't do it again! I learned my lesson, please! I'll even break ties with Shang Tsung!" you frantically said. Satisfied with your answer, at the snap of his fingers the chains fell off your wrists and you gasped.

"Perfect." he whispered as he grabbed under your knee and pulled your leg up. Both your hands met the wall to keep balance, and he just shoved himself right back in.

It didn't take you long to cum with how fast and accurately he was hitting your sensitive areas, but he never slowed down. You scratched against the wall as your senses went crazy. Getting fucked through your high by a God was never something you thought would happen in this life, but you're almost glad you pissed him off.

Almost.

After another good 30 seconds, he slowed down and your body was starting to become limp. All your energy reached depletion. He gently lowered your leg and carried you to sit in his lap. He could feel the heat emitting from your skin as he wiped the sweat from your face.

"Worry not, I will take care of you. Just promise not to go behind my back again." he said. You closed your eyes as your head laid upon his chest and whisper,

"Promise."

[hitmewithsomebooks]

@jegulus-microfic Jan 13 - wet, 547 words

A smuttier take on the prompt, w/ trans Regulus

nsfw

~

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I thought it was just… talk.” Regulus muttered, eyes darting away to look at the wall.

“Regulus.” James uttered, bringing a hand up to his chin. “Look at me.”

The younger boy eventually did, meeting James’s dark, sincere eyes.

“It’s never just talk with you, my love.” James assured him, and Regulus believed him. One thousand percent. Because you couldn’t look into those eyes and not believe him.

“I can show you how much it wasn’t talk.” James then murmured, voice lower, smile more mischievous.

“Just imagine, Reg. Me on my knees like I am now, tasting you.”

Regulus whimpered, knees trembling slightly. This was becoming overwhelming, and all James was doing was speaking.

“James…” Regulus said, and he didn’t even know why. Why James’s eyes on him felt like fire, why James’s words were making his legs tremble.

And while James could tell the boy was nervous, apprehensive, he also noticed the blown pupils, flushed cheeks, and shaking legs.

“Do you like that idea, Regulus?” James asked, because he’d caught on to the way his use on Regulus’s full name affected the smaller boy.

Regulus, despite himself, nodded, lower lip clenched between his teeth as his eyes refused to look at the man below him.

“I bet you’re already wet again. Just from me talking about it.” James smirked, voice deep and slightly smug. Regulus’s brows knitted together, hand coming to rest in James’s hair.

“Can I touch, love?” James asked, pressing another light kiss to Regulus’s thigh. It trembled.

“Y-you already have, you dunce.” Regulus replied, trying to regain some of his usual composure. James paused a moment to press another firmer kiss to the boy’s thigh, licking it before sucking lightly.

“Yes, but that was with clothes.”

And as much as Regulus did and would pretend to think it was dumb of James to keep asking, he appreciated if more than James could ever know. Though the main thing in his brain now was arousal, the appreciation and- no, he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t be. He did not love James Potter. Not that he would admit. But he appreciated James. So much.

“Yes, you can touch.” Regulus said, grip tightening slightly in James’s hair. The older boy grinned, bringing the hand that wasn’t clutching Regulus’s hip up to his cunt. He pulled apart the folds, sliding a finger in between. Sure enough, his crease was slick, so much so James could literally drink it up.

“Oh, Regulus. I knew it, didn’t I?” Regulus just nodded. James slid his finger up and down.

“Want to fuck you so bad. With my cock, with my tongue. Just think, my tongue working into you as you stand here. You, dripping down my chin, grinding against my mouth.”

Regulus whined. “James… I’m already late.”

“But don’t you think my tongue inside you would be a pretty good reason to miss rounds?” James asked, his voice buttery.

James’s thumb brushed up against Regulus’s clit suddenly and he jumped, still oversensitive from two orgasms not fifteen minutes ago.

“I could be quick, baby. Could see how fast I can make you cum with my tongue.” James said, voice dripping honey.

Regulus realized that it was very good reason to to miss prefect rounds.

[forever-rogue]

Most of the time I don't make requests but I have a request. Can you do like a Peter Parker x sick reader. Where like Peter was doing night patrol and came home to the reader asleep on the floor in the bathroom but like whining in her sleep because her head and stomach hurts. So Peter picks them up and they hug him so tight and tells him it hurts. Peter does everything in his power to make it stop hurting but you end up going to the doctor and find out they have a new virus that takes 2 weeks to recover from but a week before it isn't contagious any more. So Peter Parker has to take care of them for 2 weeks because she has it really bad.

It's ok if you wanna do this I realize its super long or you can just do a part of it.

AN | Being ill is no fun, but Peter would take the best care of you 🥰❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew that something was off as soon as you’d gotten home from work. Realistically it had been before that; you’d started to feel off earlier in the day but you’d been able to play if off. But now, as you were home alone and getting ready for bed, it was starting to get worse and you really wished that Peter was home. 

But your golden hearted and wonderful boyfriend was out on patrol and you weren’t selfish enough to call him and ask him to come home just for your sake. Whatever it was, you were sure you’d be over it by the morning. That was your thought process as you pulled on your pajamas and slipped into bed. He’d be home soon, and then everything would be better. 

After a bit of restless tossing and turning you were still not feeling any better, you decided to get up and get a cup of tea in the hope that would help your nausea to calm down. It didn’t help much but the feeling you liked the feeling of the hot liquid. You tried to read, which served as a distraction. 

Eventually it all became too much and nothing you did worked to relieve the weird way you were feeling. When you felt the bile rising in your throat, you ran into the bathroom throwing up the contents of your stomach. It was horrible, but then again throwing up had to be one of the worst things in the world full stop. 

When you felt like you had nothing left, you plopped onto the floor and sat next to the tub. You flushed the toilet and wiped the back of your mouth with your sleeve. 

There wasn't even enough energy in your tired body to get up and rinse out your mouth and brush your teeth. Instead, you slumped against the cool porcelain of the bathroom and eventually drifted off to sleep. You didn't bother to crawl back to bed, figuring you'd do it once you woke up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter knew that something was off as soon as he landed on the fire escaped outside the apartment window. When he peeked into the bedroom he didn't find your sleeping form on the bed. That caused him to frown deeply and slide into the room fast as lightning. 

"Sweetheart?" He stripped off the mask and tossed it to the side, not even bothering with the suit. He listened to the quiet stillness of the apartment for a few minutes before he only heard your heartbeat. 

He followed it to the bathroom and as soon as he stepped inside his heart shattered. You were on the floor, curled into a ball and shivering slightly, a few sounds of discomfort leaving your lips.

"Oh no," he sank to his knees at your side in an instant, gently brushing the hair out of your face, "hey honey, I'm home."

You stirred at the sound of his voice and his warm touch, opening your bleary eyes every so slightly. Despite how truly horrible you felt, your heart lifted when you saw that it was Peter, "hey spider-boy."

"What's going on, sweetheart?" He turned your face up to his, brow furrowing in concern, "why didn't….you should have called."

"Didn't wanna bother you, Petey," your words were a tired, sleepy jumble of words and if the boy hadn't been so preoccupied, he might have laughed. His only concern at the moment was making sure you were okay, "'s nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," he sighed softly as he put his hand against your forehead and cheeks. You were definitely running hot, "okay, first things first - I'm taking you to bed and you're going to sleep. When you wake up, we'll assess the damage and see what's going on."

"Hmmm," you hummed in amusement, despite your worn out state, "you're gonna take me to bed?"

"I…" he paused for a moment, halfway to pulling you up to his chest, "you're feeling this shitty and still making a sex joke?"

"Can you blame me?" You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung onto him tightly, as though he was your lifeline. You supposed in some ways he really was, "you're so hot."

"So are you," he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and you burrowed your face deeper into his neck, "metaphorically and literally right now."

He walked into the bedroom and gently laid you back in bed, making sure you were all tucked in and had all of your favorite pillows. You already felt a little better, just being somewhere more comfortable than the bathroom floor and with him home. When he started to walk away you made a small sound of discontent, “will you stay, please?”

“Of course,” he promised, “I’m just going to grab a few things and I’ll be right back.”

He popped back over and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before padding back to the kitchen. Peter figured it was a good day to have some provisions at the ready in case you needed them. He wasn’t always a planner or the most organized, but when it came to you, he wasn’t taking any chances, and often treated you like you were the finest porcelain. 

You opened an eye when he came back into the room, water bottles in his arms, along with painkillers, tissues, vaporub, and an emergency trashcan…just in case. He put everything on your nightstand before walking to the other side of the bed and crawling in next to you. Peter pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you so he could warm you up. You always called him your personal heater and that little benefit to his powers served as a benefit more often than not. 

“Try and get some rest,” he whispered, pressing a few kisses along your shoulder, “it’ll all be better than in the morning.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Turns out that Peter Parker was a liar. Not intentionally of course, but you know, still. 

“It’ll be okay,” you croaked at him, throat dry and scratchy on top of everything else, “I’ll just push-”

When you woke up, you felt miserable, even worse than the night before. And, even Peter reluctantly admitted that you looked pretty bad. 

“You’ll stay right here,” he insisted firmly and all you could do was pout at him, but gave him an affirmative nod. There was no use arguing with Peter Parker, “I’ll take care of you. You’re not in a state to be doing anything, and I’m going to take care of you.”

“Thank you,” you slumped in your chair and let out a small sigh…being sick was the worst. But at least you had Peter there, “Pete? Can we have some toaster waffles and hot chocolate?”

“Of course,” he chuckled fondly, “whatever you want, baby.”

By the time you managed to keep some breakfast down, you were exhausted again. After little convincing by your wonderful golden retriever of a boyfriend, you had taken a bath, and gotten back into bed. You had hoped that you would start to feel a little better, but nothing happened. You felt just as bad as the night before, despite trying to put on a brave face. 

Peter grew concerned, but tried to hide it as best as he could. He knew that you didn’t have any sort of speed healing and recovery like he did, but you definitely should have started to feel better by now. He decided to keep his worries to himself and just keep on taking care of you. 

But when another couple of days had passed and you weren’t any better, he’d had enough. He might have been a genius, but even he couldn’t figure out what was going on. But he wasn’t going to sit around and leave you to suffer and he was going to take matters into his own hands.

“I don’t wanna go to the doctor,” you frowned deeply at him, on the verge of tears. You were frustrated but not with him, “I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t like the fact that you’re not feeling any better and its been days,” he shook his head, “I know you don’t want to go, but I think this would be best. Will you go, please? For me? I know it’s being selfish but I would feel a lot better if you just got checked out.”

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. You loved him so deeply, even if he was being too much, “for you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You ended up having to stay at the hospital for a few days while they ran a bunch of tests. You were annoyed with Peter at first because none of this would have happened if not for you but you were also deeply thankful for him. You were slowly starting to feel the tiniest bit better. 

Turns out that you didn’t just have some flu or cold, you’d managed to come down with an uncommon stomach virus. You couldn’t even remember the name, it was so odd, but at least you knew what was wrong. They gave you some medicine and made sure you were plenty hydrated before sending you home. It should be better within another week or two; you almost cried at that. But Peter had promised to stay with you and take care of you. 

You’d worried that you’d get him sick, despite his insistence that he would be fine with his enhanced immune system. And, the lucky part was that the virus wasn’t super contagious, but of course, naturally, you’d managed to catch it. C’est la vie, non?

“You’re a saint,” you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug when you were back home, squishing yourself into his body as much as humanly possible, “for putting up with me for so long. Even though I know I’m whiny and annoying.”

“Hardly a saint,” he scoffed playfully, peppering your face in kisses, “what about all the times you’ve taken care of me, huh? This doesn’t even come close to all of that. And you’re always whiny-”

“Hey! Be nice, Parker, I’m ill.”

“I’m kidding,” he promised tenderly, “besides, you’ve been dealing with this weird bug so I think you’re allowed to whine a little bit.”

“I love you,” you sighed softly, looking up into his big brown eyes. He really was the loveliest, “so, so much Peter. You’re the best.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” he brushed his knuckles over your cheek, practically glowing under your praise, “I hope you know that I would do anything for you.”

“I do,” you took his hand and laced your fingers through his, “I would do the same for you. No hesitation.”

“I know,” and he did. Everything you did, you did with love and grace. No one had ever made him feel the way that you did, “but for now, let’s get you into bed so you can rest and I’ll make some soup.”

“Will you make-”

“Matzo ball soup?” he finished for you as you nodded, “I have Aunt May’s recipe. Coming right up.”

“You, Peter Benjamin Parker, are amazing,” you grinned as he started to herd you towards the bedroom.

“I’ll remind you of that the next time you get annoyed with me!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You ended being down and out for another week and a half, but fortunately had started to feel better little by little. You really didn’t know what you would have done without Peter. He worked from home and Spider-Man duties took a backseat. You were worried that New York City would need him more than you did, but he promised things would be okay without him. Luckily, for your own sanity, he was right. 

“Peter,” you woke up before him for once, and felt…normal. Well - almost normal, but a million times better than you had been. You laid your face near his on your pillow and grinned at him, waiting for him to look at you. You knew he wasn’t that deeply asleep, “Parker.”

“Baby,” the corner of his mouth tugged up and he wrapped an arm around your waist, “baby, baby, baby,”

“Petey,” you leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, “I feel…good.”

That captured his attention and he peeked an eye open to study your face. You looked better too - more well rested, more full of energy and life, “that’s the best thing I’ve heard. I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweetheart.”

“And it’s all thanks to you!”

“And modern medicine.”

“You and modern medicine!” the two of you shared a laugh as he gently pulled you on top of him, his arms snaking around your waist, “thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Ahh, nothing to thank me for.”

“You know, I’m actually going to miss having you around all the time,” you admittedly sheepishly, “it’s nice, being here together.”

“Maybe we can both work from home a little more often,” he suggested and you nodded immediately, “just an idea, ya know?”

“An excellent idea,” you agreed easily, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” his voice was so soft and gentle and it made you practically melt into him, “but right now, let’s rest a little bit longer and then we can have breakfast.”

“Only if I get to make it for you this time, Parker. You’ve taken care of me enough and I want to do something for you now.”

“You have yourself a deal!”

[hxltic]

I’M SORRY. MASTUKAWA ISSEI

• 200 FOLLOWERS!! 😻😻😻

• Genre: smut

• Warnings: female reader, college, slight angst at first, overstimulation, rough counter sex, choking, hair pulling, degradation, daddy kink, cunnilingus, pretty long but please don’t let it scare you off lol

-I just love comfort roommate Mattsun

You slept horribly. You thank the universe your classes had mercy. Though you still called into work, unfortunately, and even more to your demise— there was a huge sale that made folding restock clothes a pain.

Slumping through the door, getting your shower in, and throwing on the first shirt you found from the laundry room was very efficient until you got into bed.

You lay there.

Comfortably uncomfortable.

You were hot, but taking the covers off wasn’t an option. You felt every fiber or hair against your body. Your feet were cold. A growling noise erupted from your stomach.

Angrily, the covers are thrown off, where you stomp your way to the kitchen while dismissing the new breeze of air brushing your skin. No jacket, in shorts, waltzing around the apartment scavenging for food. You wish the feeling of the air conditioning didn’t bother you as much as the sound did, because it printed an obvious sign of irritation on your face.

Then the fire alarm beeped.

Taking a deep breath, you begrudgingly conclude yourself unsuccessful in finding something to nibble on. When you turn around, the corner of the kitchen table seemed to stick out more than usual.

Lo and behold it hit the corner of your already cold foot. You drop to your elbows on the counter in annoyance where hold your head, tugging probably unhealthily at your eyes from stress, trying your best not to fall to the ground and cry.

You immediately removed even the thought of tears when the door sounded.

“Honey I’m home.” Mattsun closes the door behind him.

He just got back from afternoon classes with only a handful of groceries. Your roommate started the “I’m home” thing as a joke, yet it carried farther than that as time went on. You correct yourself and try to help with the groceries at least a little bit, picking up what you could find in the bags and placing them in their correct spot.

Mattsun could obviously tell something was off the second he walked in. He watched you stutter and quickly regather yourself even though it looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He would’ve asked why by now, if he didn’t know that you probably didn’t know yourself. He was right. You didn’t.

Hard days never got to you, but as the homework piled up with your micromanaging boss, it went straight to the mini notepad in your brain listing all you had to do. It was fine until you had to flip to the next page, then the ink started getting all runny. You aren’t sure what caused it; but it happened. You held the milk mindlessly in your hand.

Mattsun scooted behind you towards the refrigerator. You were in the area between the island and the main counter, causing his front to press up against you innocently, an angered grunt dropping from your lips.

“Could you not go around?” You turn to him swiftly, your palm facing upwards to emphasize your feelings.

“Didn’t really think it mattered. You calling me fat?” He opened the refrigerator door. Usually you’d laugh, but it only turned your brows farther inwards.

“Yeah, it does. Go the other fucking way.” You spat. With the roll of your eyes, you slid the milk into the already opened fridge. You stepped back so that Matsukawa could close it, hand already on the handle—but when nothing happened, you turned around to see the tall male staring at you in disbelief. He literally just got home.

“…What?”

“The hell is up with you?” He asks regularly.

“Nothing,” you shrug and brush it off, “it was just unnecessary.”

“Well it’s clearly something,” he retaliates, “I’ve been practically crucified the ten seconds I’ve been here.” He closes the door and laughs humorlessly to himself.

“Whatever. It’s nothing.”

He starts, “Really? The-“

“God-it’s nothing! It’s nothing.”

The aggressive hand motions come back, then you finally take about four different things from the second-to-last bag and put them up hastily, even in your tired state.

He observes you from the counter with every step you take and every heavy breath you let in. Like you’re fighting an entire war with yourself.

It finally clicked in his mind: he said the wrong things in the wrong moment, and it wasn’t what you needed right now. He just wished he would’ve noticed sooner.

“Hey, my bad—I’m sorry. Should’ve went around.”

His voice wasn’t careless now, but soft. You heard him but just moved on to the last bag. Before you can pull something out, he takes it and tells you that you can go lay down. Better yet, that he’d handle everything else.

“It’s fine, I can do it.” You reach again and he pulls it away. “Give it.” The quicker you are, quicker he is.

You sigh and pull back. You wanted to slap the shit out of him but he wouldn’t budge.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

He cocks his head to the side. He was curious. It could tell how you actually feel about him, the kind of things you don’t tell people to their face.

“Like what?”

“Aggravatingly annoying,” you blatantly answered.

His expression changed for a second. He refuses to get louder, only talking in a low volume, casual tone.

“That I am.”

“Why can’t you just come in and go to your room to study or something?”

“I will next time.”

“Why do you always have to be by me?”

Hm…

Accepting it and having it your way he felt was the best thing to do. He’s been called annoying before, even irritating due to his constant teasing. But hearing it from you—really the main one he talks to that isn’t Makki— hurt a bit. You saw his eyes widen for a slight half a second more before reverting to his usual apathetic face.

He knew you didn’t mean it. He knew you were overstimulated. Giving in to you and whatever you said was what you needed, not someone to fight you on things. Yeah it fucking hurt; however, you were speaking out of temporary emotion rather than logic or feelings, so if not stressing you out in this way was what he’d have to do, he’d do it.

The truth was: you really couldn’t stand being by him. Hearing him walk in while you read in your bed, then casually throw his things to the wall and flop down at your feet. Or when you would come in later and he’d be sat criss cross on the couch, a spot waiting for you right next to him. You couldn’t decipher if these were regular friendly activities or not and it swam through your mind all throughout the day.

Was it just his personality? Did it mean anything to him? Were you being dramatic? All the hugs, the studying, the dinner nights. Were those dates? Did they have the same effect on him that they had on you? Were they even on purpose?

The silence was deafening and palpable, the gaze he held intimidatingly normal. Didn’t you just yell at him? How is he so calm? You had come back to your senses, staring up at his non-changing face, ready to say something.

“I-“

“Do I need any reason more than I want to be?” He utters first delicately.

There wasn’t a hint of negative energy. It made you sad, just how much he’d do for you. You actually almost wish he would’ve gotten mad.

He’s never once yelled at you, called you out for dumb things like breaking a glass bowl, or not being taught some things around the house. You just let out an entire day’s worth of anger onto him and said something that was nowhere close to what you feel. You even used him as a placeholder for what you wish you could say to your boss. He is always so, so good to you.

He watches as your eyes suddenly get tighter and your eyebrows inch upwards. You’ve done nothing but look at him, yet the mere thought of what you said and what he’s actually done forces you to drop your head slowly and take a few steps forward into his chest. Droplets fall silently to the tiled floor.

His arms softly found their way around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“You’re okay.”

He hugs you back, progressively getting softer with every passing minute. Not “It’s okay,” “You’re okay.” Sometime later, you pull back with a deep breath, and you send a tight lip smile to him. Then while he puts away the discarded item (that was previously fought over), you hop up on the island counter.

“Okay. I’m better now.”

“Good.” He closes the fridge. Your legs sway back and forth. You’ll try to explain what happened, even if you know it won’t justify the outbursts directed at him.

“Hey I didn’t mean it.”

“I kno-“

“No, no, wait.” You interrupt.

Dark eyebrows raise and his arms cross as he leans back against the counter in front of you to listen. He nods, telling you to go on.

“I’m so stressed. I just had a really, really bad day and put you at the end of it. I do really enjoy your company—I promise—It’s just…it’s just I don’t really-”

You think for a moment and sigh before your head drops into your palms again. It was because your mind was racing to find the words. Do you tell him? Would it count as a confession?

“I don’t even know anymore. Do you ever…um…”

“Take your time.” He sits patiently.

Damn, did you have to trip over your own words now?

“…What do the dates that you plan usually look like?”

He seemed lost in thought for a second, prior to returning towards the sight of you nervously twiddling your fingers. He noticed the emphasis on the word ‘plan,’ as if you were trying to differentiate between real dates from him and whatever the hangouts you two had were. Saving you the trouble, he’d just tell you.

“I like you.”

…huh?

The sudden confession makes your eyes almost pop out of your head. That was not the answer you were expecting, but not the answer you didn’t want.

“What?” You whisper. You did hear that correctly, right?

He goes on to elaborate with a sigh and a shrug.

“Listen, I’ve been through a million different of these confessions and I don’t want that delay with you. I like you a lot, period.”

It was a while back ago when Mattsun decided he’d focus on you alone. He cleared his phone, and (which you noticed) somewhat cleared his defiled reputation of past debauchery. Many older women have came up to him asking if he actually would pursue during his libertine phase, to which he’d respond no, so he has experienced almost every subtle confession ever made. It was like déja vu.

Wide-eyed you sit. That was a lot easier than you expected; you were worrying all for nothing. The bearing weight that had you in a hold was finally lifted.

“So all of those were-“

“Yes. I haven’t done that with anyone else and I prefer to keep it that way.”

Your heart probably jumps in your chest and your eyes light up. A wide smile inches its way onto your face, and it almost dies down when you remember what you did, but he brings it back with a light, mature smile of his own. After all this time he actually was crushing on you like you were him. You never, ever could deny the way you were eager to see him once he would return from his classes and crash the night with you.

Speaking of crash, a sudden returning wave of exhaustion brushes your body. You ignore it though. There are better things.

“Well, that’s somehow where I was going; I like you a lot too. But if I actually asked you would you say yes? I know how-”

“That depends. Does it come with a ring?”

You stop and your dimples start to show as a smile crawls onto your face, again, “Um…no?“

“Then I object.”

He uncrosses his arms and walks unhurriedly between your legs. He was so content, large hands brushing up your thigh from the knee.

“Yes, I would,” he admits delightedly whilst gingerly coming closer in the face, “the ring comes later though.” He’d whisper a breath away from your lips. You’d wondered how you could be so lucky, the confession not even falling from your sheepish mouth, and still end up with the same outcome. When his eyes go from yours to the plump of your mouth; So, so ready to feel him on you, your eyes close and anticipate him.

Nothing happens. Once your eyes open and he stands there mockingly with the trademark grin (still only hovering an inch away from your nose), if you didn’t know any better you would’ve shoved him away and hopped off the counter to your room for playing with your feelings. But Mattsun was just being Mattsun. First he laughs genuinely at how gullible you are. Then, his trail of sight goes back to your lips unashamedly once more with a dimple-showcasing smirk. He slowly pushes a falling strand of hair away, and slightly turns his head to melt into you with a hand on your cheek sweetly.

You could feel the free smile that was on his lips as he kissed you. It was cute. The kind of things you see in movies at little coffee shops riding along the street. It was unlike him, an unfamiliar feeling this was—like sunlight rather than a rainy or cloudy day. It sounds stupid, but Matsukawa is always slow moving and effective. Watching tv with your legs kicked up or tucked in a blanket as the pitter-patter of the rain decided the kismet of your day. The lambent lighting of the morning making it significantly darker than it usually is with the blinds open.

He caught you before you were too far gone by groaning happily. Throughout it, the entirety of your mind was buzzed by the way your lips gracefully slow danced against his on the counter of your shared apartment. It felt so good seeing him just utterly happy, especially with you. Warm and steady like molasses in January. His fingers eventually connected in the small of your back. You were still tired so his energy was just as lazy as your own; like when your hands floated around his neck and feathered through his hair.

He did it as if it had been years since he was kissed. Yearning for absolutely any ounce of touch from someone. He was accidentally pushing into you, needing to be closer, your arch slowly getting deeper.

The second he pulled away for necessary air, he caught the crevices of your thighs and pulled you with him. Now that the hard part was done he’d give you the full experience.

“What are you doing?”

“Relieving stress.”

He pushes a leg up and over his own shoulder. His hands are placed directly atop your abdomen to apply light pressure as he kisses away the nerves from the main fat of your body gently. Remember all that cute stuff? Yeah, it just diminished the second he decided to eat you out on the marble counter.

You’re not very sure how it led to something like this, something like him pulling your shorts and panties off together. Once there, his mouth felt great against your clit, mainly when he’d stop and suck right between. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of this from someone before because the form of the pink muscle inside you is unmistakable. So unmistakable even, that the feeling of the slurp that makes you squirm seemingly flows through your veins to your head like blood.

When Mattsun eats you out, he does it with precision. He knows where he wants to go and how he’ll get there. Compared to others he wasn’t as messy, but maybe that comes from the fact he’d prefer his fingers working inside of you. He’d love to watch your face contort on nothing but his hand because he knows it’s a favorited body part of his. He knows you’d love it. But, he will cup his mouth over you and give the same effect nonetheless.

And you loved that about him. He was careless, not nonchalant.

He was clingy, but independent.

He had morals, just not enough to get boring like when he jumped in the ball case in the store.

He was extremely opinionated, (especially when you asked him small questions like if he liked a shirt) but he also doesn’t care enough to convince you out of something you liked.

He’s hot, but also couldn’t care less about his appearance at times.

He was a walking juxtaposition.

And usually, when you’re alone, the relaxation of your mind helps you get off faster. This was the case, and going over his traits and features was clearly working well because now only your upper back was on the counter and anything below that point was lifted with his large hands. Both legs were in his possession. Your breaths were heavy and when your waist moves on him, his shoulders follow his head. Your own head moves to each side, but he doesn’t seem to care, this was incidental when he was holding your hips close to him so your wetness spread right under his nose. He was feeding off you since there was nowhere to run.

He’d tell you to sit still a bit but he likes the challenge. He likes watching your waist go back and forth as your pussy basically cries his name, and he would print his initials in hickeys on you if that’s what it called for. Others call it sadistic, he calls it motivation.

He could literally take both hands off of you and still be upright—the only reason he didn’t was because you’d probably make yourself fall. Though he did get close, a hand coming right up through your shirt to massage your breast. You unconsciously crossed your legs behind his neck in reaction. Damn, he was good.

He groans through you, and you wish you could watch but holding yourself together was a ground-breaking job. He hit each spot perfectly with complete control of his tongue and your shoulders were starting to hurt from bearing your own body weight.

His height made this fairly difficult but nothing he couldn’t handle—having to crouch in front of a pretty girl was the last of his worries. With your thighs covering his ears and temple, he sucked away. He was honestly glad he did this now rather than later, knowing you, you probably would’ve refused clamping on his head so you wouldn’t crush him or something like that. Mattsun believed his breath regulation was pretty okay considering he almost even got into swimming, but if by slim chance he did die he believed suffocating like this was preferred.

His tongue was literally inside of you. The only thing preventing your brain from fuzzing and your head from throwing back was there would be nothing left on the counter to hold your weight.

Once your heavy breathing developed to jagged and your heavyset eyes started to close, he set you back down gracefully. He heard your pleas but held out for as long as he could. Many “Mattsun please’s“ and “Mattsun I’s” later, he would finally relieve you; He knew his girl could do it.

He spent the last portion of your orgasm fulfilling his own desires and working you from the inside. He moved positions to rest on his left elbow and lean over your face, staring into your eyes, brows upturned and a smile showing. Was it a pity smile? Maybe, but it was for sure the face of amusement as you break down beneath him.

“H-holy shit…‘Sei- s’right there,” you declared.

“Huh? What is?”

A very implying whine followed. Matsukawa scooped his arm under your head like a pillow, his left hand turning your chin to face him. He loved that face. That pretty face only dusted with fatigue and sadness but smothered in want. That same face he’ll get to see whenever he looks down. Huh. Maybe he was a little sadistic.

Your body scrunched and your knees came up in ecstasy.

“Talk to me,” he says, but you barely could keep your eyes open the way he was avoiding the spot on purpose. You wondered how he did it, already having learned your body and how you reacted so well in such a short time. You were so close already and he was gonna ruin it, even though you’d probably still find a way to cum anyway.

You tried your best to muster up something and prayed he’d take it.

“Faster,” you ordered. No response. Actually instead of doing what you said, he pulled them out, assumingely because of the sudden attitude. You immediately went to apologize. He was actively in charge of your body, after all.

You verbally groan in annoyance, to where you hear a responding muffled giggle, so you open your eyes to see what happened.

You meet a view of his smiling jawline, looking down past the counter. His hand was still beneath your chin, almost as if he was protecting you from being uncomfortable, but his teeth held his shirt up as he used whatever was left on his fingers to jerk himself off. This was the disruption in question.

He didn’t mean to basically abandon you, but undoing the jawstring and letting himself free seemed like it would benefit everyone. And he was big. You’d seen big, but he was big all the way around.

You watched in awe as his fingers left a shine of gloss behind when they reached the reddening tip from the bottom.

He threw his head back and groaned in relief, finally being reminded what it felt like to be touched with someone else’s presence.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

With a look to your impatient, shocked eyes, he knew you wanted it. Needed it almost.

He pressed off the counter with his elbow but left his hand under your head. Such a gentleman. Lifting both legs up, with a hand stretched under your knees like a baby, he spoke to you.

“You want it?” He’d ask. You’d nod aggressively, to where he’d ask again. “You gotta tell me.”

“Yes, I do.” You pleaded. Of course your head rolled slightly on his hand to see his face around your legs.

“Alright. Tell me when you wanna stop. Safeword is green.”

You’d never once said a safeword during sex and you doubt you’d use it now. Plus, Issei wouldn’t hurt you.

Intentionally.

You felt him pull your legs apart and hold them where they were previously scrunched up at your breasts. Finally, he rubbed you one last time, before the tip slowly started to diminish inside of you.

It’s amazing how the body makes fluid for moments like these. It’s also amazing how wet Mattsun got you so it’d hurt ten times less.

When he stopped moving about halfway there, he hung over your body almost menacingly; his silhouette breathing deeply and whatever necklace he had on from the day dangling. Your face contorted at the intrusion and your eyes unexpectedly swelled, making you lachrymose. It definitely could’ve been worse, but fuck he was big.

The ravenette slipped his shirt off and your head slid off his hand painlessly, the overwhelming heat from everywhere flowing to his brain. He almost couldn’t take it. You were so wet but so fucking tight at the same time, he couldn’t even bring himself to keep going. He bent over to meet you with a kiss on the jaw and his hand found your own so you could squeeze it as he went on. He buried his face in your neck.

“O-okay, you can move now,” you managed.

No response.

“Issei?” You pushed his hair aside with the hand that wasn’t in his so you could see him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was seeking stabilization through his mouth.

“Fucking just- gimme a second. Please.”

You knew it was pure desire and he was trying his best not to hurt you. He would promise ‘til death that he tried to stop, to take it slow, but it was irresistible the second you giggled at his current state (that you caused) and your stomach contracted with him inside. He immediately pushed forward so that he was balls deep into the fluttering feeling.

“Matts—”

The sudden squeeze on his hand could cut off circulation and the grunt that emitted from his body over and over as he continued to do it couldn’t be missed. At this point it didn’t even hurt anymore, but the previously denied orgasm returned full force.

Mattsun, of course, would apologize later; but it wasn’t later yet. He finally lifted himself off you and gathered your legs once more so your ankles were at his ears, trying to feel more of the ribbed walls on either side. Your mouth fell open at the spot.

“Ha-hohfuck ‘m gonna cum.” You whispered.

“Mhmm? Let me feel it baby,” He leaned over again, almost testing your flexibility, running a hand along your cheek and swiping away a single tear that dropped from earlier while his forehead was against yours. Now that he knew how far you could go, he’d have a lot of fun with the positions he’d put you in.

“Fuck, fuck-!” You’d find him through your lashes so he could kiss you, the never ending thrusts seemingly reaching your belly button. He loved sucking on those pretty lips of yours.

He only let out a laugh of satisfaction as you stilled and stiffened around him, your arms roaming his back and head turning away. He continued to thrust downward, never letting up speed, causing you to writhe underneath him with every curl of his hips. He did eventually pull away and extend his arms though. It was for a nice view of your body.

His length slipping in and out as a white ring forms that’ll signify how many times he’s made you cum; your breasts through the shirt following your body back and forth; the already fucked out face you wield accompanied with a yawn—it was all so much, he almost couldn’t look anymore. In fact, he won’t.

He grabbed you and pulled you further down the marble so you could roll over, your wriggling body basically halfway there. Up you go by your hair, that flexibility coming in to play a second time while he fucked you. When you moaned at the tug, he wouldn’t be Mattsun if he didn’t tease you for it.

“Wow, who would’ve guessed. You like when I pull your hair?”

“Yes daddy,” you respond. It was almost instantaneous. You wished you could’ve said you meant to do it, but it was honestly an accident.

His thrusts slightly change, you wish you could say how. He dropped your head forcefully, took both of your wrists behind your back, and pulled you up by your throat. Your neck was strained trying to face him but you couldn’t help it, you had to listen when he was talking to you. He was amused, to say the least—especially when you stopped listening because of the way he was barely brushing that sweet nerve.

“That’s a filthy mouth of yours. Who knew you were such a slut?” He’d grin into your ear. “Mgh- since you’ve gotten so good at it, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?”

As long as you’ve known him, he’s made you say things you wouldn’t have even thought of saying prior. But right now? You couldn’t care less.

“Mmm,” you whimper, “h-harder daddy.”

You’re not sure how he unscrambled what you said with his hand restricting your throat and the other intermittent babble coming out of your mouth, but if anyone could, it was him. Mattsun was defiant and dominant, but when it came to your genuine pleasure, he’d gratify.

Teasing aside obviously.

With the slightest bend of his knees, he angled himself and thrusted farther upwards. Did you doubt he would remember where you’re g-spot was? You were choking up more than you already were and his name slipped off your tongue as if it were a veneration statement of butter. Your ass sounded throughout the apartment, the skin-on-skin contact loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The force was turning it red and Matsukawa loved it. He loved when the pussy talked back too.

In fact, you could tell, because he was gradually speeding up and his thrusts were slowly becoming sporadic.

“Oh shit-I’mmna-” You started.

“Come on it. Come on this dick so you can tell everyone you did it twice.”

“Mhmm.”

“You can tell all your little friends you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Yes daddy…”

“Come so you find all the women I’ve ever talked to and tell them you’re the only one I want.”

With that, your eyebrows leveled out and your eyes shut while trying to process the sex drive and sweet believable words at the same time. Your body held onto Mattsun for dear life, to where he let go of your throat and held you close on the fall back down to your elbows. You were exhausted, but that grip your pussy still had on him was deadly. Deadly enough for him to slightly question whether you’d be a bad mom or not.

He obviously chose against it and sighed along your back while you came before pulling out. You turned around and crouched knowingly with whatever strength was left, then watched him jerk himself off above you. After you decided to take matters into your own hands (literally), he held himself up with his support on the counter. His head hanging over you while you stroked the other was a sight to remember.

With a final hiss, white decorated your face like a picture.

“Holy fuck,” his head faced the ceiling as he ran a hand over his face. The view he was met with when he came back down was insane, your hand curved behind his thigh and the other milking him dry of whatever was left. With a single bud of cum remaining, you licked your lips and smiled weakly.

What the hell would he do with you?

©hxltic

[erodasfishtacos]

Hurts Like Hell

prompt: first part of the ps au 😗 I hope you all enjoy

warnings: smut & angst, minors dni

If you would like to get two week early release, exclusive content/tropes, among other benefits - consider signing up for my Patreon for $3 a month :)

-

YN wasn’t nervous, she had never felt like that while performing in front of an audience or camera. She was confident in her curves and the beauty of her face, her quirky but sweet as honey personality.

She never thought she’d do porn - in all honesty but it was sort of a perfect storm when she broke up with her ex who she swore up and down was her soulmate that she was going to spend the rest of her life with and she got fired from her steady, reliable job that was getting her through graduate school.

The sudden lack of sex and money - well it made the most logical sense to her and once she realized how amazing the income was, she was hooked.

She was completely financially stable now, having paid off her school in full as well as her condominium with a pretty large amount in her savings.

YN mainly did cam work, making boatloads from private virtual shows and doing silly, basic things that got her tips generously.

She rarely did shoots with other actors, she wasn’t against having sex with strangers but she didn’t find that she enjoyed much either. 

She knew she didn’t necessarily have to love it because it was her job but it almost made her stomach turn too much to want to do it.

The thing was, despite how many scenes (which wasn’t many) she’s had with different men and occasionally women, they could never make her come, or even get her wet enough where they wouldn’t have to use lubrication.

Nowhere close.

YN never got that tight burning feeling in the pit of her tummy that signaled she was about to feel a burst of euphoria that she craved.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to, she knew she wasn’t broken, and before this she wouldn’t have said that it was ever necessarily difficult to find release but it just didn’t happen like before.

Instead it always felt like a build-up to nothing, no matter how much they rubbed her clit or teased her nipples - nothing simmered to the surface and every experience had fallen flat.

It was the main reason that she did web shows and OnlyFans because at least she could guarantee that she could get herself off and not rely on anyone to do it for her and fail.

No one had ever made her come but her ex.

-

“You need to give me one more,” He huffed outbetween pants as he rolled his hips in perfectly to hit her spot, his thumb unrelenting in her swollen bud, “One more than I’ll run you a nice bath and cuddle you t’sleep like the lil’ pillow princess you are.”

“S’too much,” YN sniffles with a frustrated whine as she wriggled her hips forward to get more friction than away when it was overwhelming - fat tears down her cheeks and her core was positively pulsing.

He leans down, damp forehead against her as he makes direct eye contact - not slowing his hips one bit before he’s gritting out, she was feeling every inch of how thick he was, “You know your safe word. Either use it or shut the fuck up and come on me again, you little brat.”

YN is embarrassed to admit those words toss her straight over the edge as she lets her final, weak orgasm wrack through her body - thighs twitching and center throbbing as her back arches up into his strong chest.

He follows right after, slowing down to a more manageable speed as he’s pressing his puffy pink lips all over her face, kissing the tears and licking at the salty wetness, humming out soft praises.

“So so sweet, melt right under me, darlin’. Never had someone so perfect for me,” He murmurs against her temple before moving to her jaw, “I’m going t’keep you forever. I’m so in love with you, baby.”

“I love you more,” She manages out weakly, hand coming to brush his damp curls off his forehead as he collapses playfully on top of her and she doesn’t complain, kissing his neck and massaging his back as he groans in a different type of pleasure.

“Impossible,” He titters with a frown, rolling off the bed and pulling her towards the bathroom, “I love you more than anything that has ever existed. I love you the most.”

-

YN wasn’t quite prepared for the scene today but rarely did she need to read a script on the set of a porno, everything was ad-lib anyways and usually there weren’t many words anyways - just obnoxious, exaggerated moans.

Instead she decided to laze around with Niall after she’d gone into hair and makeup, it’s a bedroom scene so it was all minimal with her hair pulled up into a loose messy bun and just a bit of blush to give the appearance of just waking up.

There was a twist of nerves in her stomach, she didn’t do this often and when she did, she usually wanted it to be over as soon as possible - it always crossed her mind multiple times before shooting that she could just go home, she didn’t need the money - OnlyFans was plenty but she was doing her manager a favor.

-

The breakup has been just freshly a year.

It still felt like an open wound, YN tried to go on a few dates but her heart belonged to her soulmate and it wasn’t fair to anyone else so she didn’t bother after multiple ones failed with hurt feelings.

Her heart, mind, and body still ached for him desperately.

It was an unexpected break-up that had flipped her life upside down in the worst ways possible, she wished she could be living in that naive bliss with him, and that they built the life together that they had originally planned.

Before she realized he had cheated.

-

It had started with him snatching his phone out of her hands when she picked it up to check the weather, in the four years they’d been together - he had never done that before and it made her brows furrow.

He had denied that it was anything like that, it was that he was buying a present for her, and he didn’t want her to accidentally see it - she was skeptical but he’d never given her reason before and she’s able to shrug it off.

Then he changed the passcode to his phone.

When she got suspicious, he got defensive and told her there was nothing to worry about - that she needs to relax and let it go before changing the subject like she didn’t just raise a red flag.

She arrives home from classes a bit early as soon as she walks in the door, he’s quickly hanging up his phone call and shoving the cell into his inner suit pocket - when she asks who he’s talking to, he says his mum but then why’d he hang up like he didn’t want her to hear the conversation?

Then the icing on the cake, she had been walking home from the gym one night, passing the front of a restaurant - he had told her that he had to work late at the office because of some type of merger and to not wait for him to go workout with her like he usually did.

Mindlessly, she glances through the window as she walks past but is skidding to a halt when she notices a familiar face in the dimly lit building and does a double-take to make sure her eyes aren’t deceiving her.

It’s her boyfriend.

But he has company.

He’s sitting in a booth with a woman across from him, she’s definitely older than him but not out of the realm of possibility that they could be on a date - secluded in a both to the far left with wine glasses in fron to them.

YN felt it in her bones that this was the woman, the other woman - she somehow felt hurt by the age of the lady, she had to be ten to fifteen years his senior, was that what his type really was?

She manages to get her feet moving before he would have the chance to glance up and notice her - she nearly runs back to their shared apartment with angry tears running down her cheeks as she finds a sticky note on the fridge that says ‘love you darling x’.

It’s his one opportunity to come clean.

And she wasn’t going to forgive him then either but god, she just wanted the truth from him - YN had always, always been honest with him, even when it was hard, even when it was embarrassing. She thought he’d always done that same but it felt like a knife to her heart that this was unraveling.

YN sits her bum on their kitchen island, waits and waits for him to come over from his date with someone who’s not her.

It makes her want to cry when her phone buzzes and his name pops up with an ridiculous amount of emoji hearts after it.

Be home in ten. I love you, sweet girl. Missed you all day x

“Fucking liar,” She hisses through clenched teeth, wiping harshly at the tears that are falling without her permission, and slamming her phone down against the marble hard enough that she would not be surprised if her screen cracked.

She zones out as she ponders the possibilities of how this conversation will turn out, there was a numbness already sweeping through her body, as a protective measure because her body couldn’t even acknowledge the hurt.

She doesn’t even register the front door unlocking and opening.

Not until he’s in the kitchen, dropping his jacket over the barstool, and smiling so fucking fondly at her, “Hi darlin’, your allergies acting up again? I told you that the off brand just doesn’t work for you. Your eyes are swollen.”

It was aching how beautiful he was, his face was soft and open with deep dimples decorating his cheeks, his eyes twinkling and happy, and he’s stepping towards her with his tattooed arms outreached.

YN bats off his hand when he reaches to thumb at her cheek, confusion wrinkling his forehead because she can’t remember a time where she’s every denied his touch like she just did, she seethes out, “Don’t act like you fucking care.”

He’s clearly startled by her hostility, lips turning down when he asks with an offended edge, “Why wouldn’t I care? What’s gotten into you, hm?”

It’s like he’s not sure whether she’s playing or not because sometimes she would be short, act like a brat, just so that it could turn into a fun night of punishment and pleasure but even Harry knew that it wasn’t this - not by how rigid her body language was.

“I know your secret, what you’ve been trying to hide from me, and trying to act like I’m insane when I questioned you about it,” YN responds with her arms crossed, making it clear she doesn’t want any physical interaction, and he struggles to take a step back because it’s obvious how much he wants to embrace her right now.

And well, the look on his face is all the confirmation she needs - the confusion twists into surprise, shock swirling in his eyes, and something else that she wasn’t able to point her finger on but it almost looked like disappointment.

“H-how did you find out?” He stutters on the first syllable, his already deep voice somehow even more gravely, his accent accentuated, and she’s never heard him trip over his words before - his pouty bottom lip quivering a bit.

YN scoffs in disbelief, she regrets it but she chucks the glass next to her on the countertop at him and he manages to duck before it hits him - the facade of shock made her unbearably angry and she’s relieved the glass doesn’t hit him but feels a satisfaction when it shatters against their floor.

“I-Darlin’,” He tries to reason, hands out cautiously, and he swallows hard, “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

“Five fucking years down the drain,” YN lets the tears fall in a slow dance down her cheeks, letting them form into droplets on her jaw, “You fucking cheater.”

His jaw drops in disbelief, the softness in his face dissipating when he hears her words, “We are definitely not talking about the same thing. That’s for fucking sure. You think I’d cheat on you?”

“I don’t think, I know,” YN slips off the marble counter and avoids the broken glass - shattered into a million pieces on the ground, just like her heart, “Don’t ever, ever speak to me again. You knew what I went through with my parents when I was growing up. I trusted you because I told you how my dad’s cheating affected me.”

“You’re wrong,” He states bluntly, interrupting her and disregarding what she’s saying - his eyes hardening and his back becoming ramrod straight, tense and offended by the words.

“Who were you at dinner tonight with?” YN pressed with an unhappy smirk, “Who was the woman you were with? Is she the reason you’ve been hiding your phone from me?”

His lips draw in a tight line, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he stares her down.

No words though. Not quick enough. She wasn’t giving him more than three seconds to respond.

“That’s all I needed to know. This, this is done,” YN motions with her arms, her chest beginning to heave with the reality that the man she thought she would marry wasn’t going to be hers anymore.

That he was sharing himself with others.

-

YN is mentally hyping herself up for another round of sex that wouldn’t lead to anything, sure it was fine to mess around with someone but it more so filled the loneliness rather than the actual pleasure.

She felt pathetic that she was still so fucking love sick for her ex, that he’d ruined her so sustainably for anyone else in every faucet of the word, love, sex, friendship - it was destroyed.

“Hey, five minutes and we’re starting, let’s go,” Warren, the director, pops in his head with a final warning, meaning she needs to get her bum on set right now.

“Wish me luck,” YN chirps with fake enthusiasm to Niall, pinching his cheek until he bats her hand away and pushes her towards the door - he won’t watch, nor would she want him to.

“Have fun getting dick, I guess,” Her friend mumbles in his a monotone huff, giving her a look because he is supportive but doesn’t necessarily approve as he barely looks up from his phone.

After navigating the hallway to the bedroom set where she’ll be filming, she sees her co-star for the first time - well, the back of him, tall, towering over the others that he’s around.

He was faced towards Warren, most likely preparing, his shoulders were broad, muscles defined on every inch of his body but not obnoxiously, tapering off into narrow hips and lean but strong legs - bum small but still plump.

She would know that body anywhere, the way her heart drops to the floor tells her who it is before it connects with her brain but that doesn’t make sense does it?

She wonders for a brief second if she’s had a break with reality and she’s hallucinating.

YN can clearly, distinctly remember what that skin felt like under her fingers, the way his abdominal muscles twitched when he was close, how those long arms would encompass her, hold her through all the good and bad.

She was split between running for the hills, canceling the shoot, and purely only doing webcam business from here on out - it wasn’t worth the money but it was magnetic and her mind was fuzzy with wanting to just touch him.

Her other option, which her heart is proposing, is running straight into his arms, letting him brush his lips against her forehead as his fingertips dig into her hips but that probably wouldn't happen, would it?

Instead of either choice, her feet are cemented to the floor, she looked like a deer in headlights with wide eyes and trembling lips, shaking down to her fingertips with frozen fear.

“There’s our girl!” Warren announces happily when he sees her past her costar’s shoulder, tugging his headset off one of his ears as he smiles at his star and waves her over towards them.

The other man turns around, their eyes meeting for the first time in a year - the forestry green she loved so much met hers and recognition, confusion, anger crossed them in a span of mere seconds - his lips in a tight line but he doesn’t look angry as much as he looked disapproving.

Who is he to fucking judge?

They both don’t move automatically, staring at each other, and not knowing what to make of it - the tension was palpable between them and YN could feel it all the way to her bones.

Harry budges first, he always has as he takes the familiar long strides - just in a pair of tight briefs that hug him perfectly, hugging his thighs and highlighting the hard cut of muscle leading into the waistband, the familiar trail of sparse hairs that start at his bellybutton and travel down out of sight - she used to love to run her fingers over it and tease that spot before ducking lower.

Her eyes can’t help but dart down to his right upper thigh, her real name (not her stage name) was still inked permanently and dark into his tanned skin - she’d wondered if he had covered it by now but it was still in all of its original glory.

Warren is oblivious to anything out of the norm, he’s slapping Harry on the shoulder and telling YN with a wide smile, “Meet Axel. Axel meet Starlet, your co-star You two are going to make a hot fucking movie.”

It was comical, the faux anonymity, they knew everything about each other down to their blood type, first ever pet, and so they fact that they were being introduced as these corny fake names just makes it even stranger.

Harry puts his hand out to shake, YN hesitates with her chest still rising much too fast to be normal as she shakingly meets his, and she thinks she’s about to have a panic attack because right now, she can’t decipher up from down.

It hurts her, physically, to touch him again.

She loves him so much.

Present tense.

It isn’t fair that this is happening, she has always been loyal and good to him, and it feels like a punishment that she’s in this situation right now.

Warren gets distracted by another staff calling his name as they mess around with a tripod for one of the bigger cameras - there was a decent amount of people around for this shoot.

“Breathe,” Harry murmurs, hand still holding hers as he notices how elevated her breathing, his gaze is intimidatingly intense as he observes her, he knows that she’s panicking, “It’s okay, I promise I didn’t know. I can back out right now.”

YN for some reason doesn’t let go either, her eyes watering as she whispers, “Why are you here? Why are you doing…this?”

She couldn’t say what they were really doing, she wasn’t ashamed but it was boggling that he was here too - it wasn’t like either of them had a history of doing porn before their relationship.

Harry sighs, his free hand pushing his curls off his forehead, “The start-up I was working for went bankrupt and didn’t pay out my last three months worth of work as well as my commission. I had to figure out something to pay my bills until I can find a new job and a friend suggested this.”

“Then you need this just as much as I do. Clover Tech laid me and three hundred other employees off,” She replies, finally dropping his hand and awkwardly wringing her wrists - her nerves were tingling and she wanted to keep holding his hand.

Harry looks torn before he settles, “I know you don’t want to do this with me. I…I can do the shoot with the backup girl and split half of the check with you so you’re not out money.”

It’s so genuine that it makes her stomach churn, how could someone this sweet ruin everything by cheating.

“That’s…no. It’s fine unless you don’t want to,” YN trails off with a twinge of embarrassment at the thought he wouldn’t want to have sex with her because she obviously hadn’t been enough for him.

It had never been a concern when they were together, they were magnetic, and he was obsessed with getting his mouth, hands, anything on her whenever she would let him which had been often.

“Unless I don’t want to?” Harry prompts, not catching what she’s hinting at, fuck, he was so handsome she couldn’t think straight - his brow was furrowed and she could tell by his body language that he was stressed out.

“You know…have sex with me,” She mumbles lowly, eyes darting down to her feet for a moment but she soon realizes that Harrys waiting for her eye contact to speak because he doesn’t say anything until she sheepishly meets his gaze.

“Until you broke up with me. I was planning on only having sex with you for the rest of my life,” Harry rasps much too bluntly and without any regret in his eyes as he watches her, “I will never turn you down.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” YN scolds because it’s getting too emotional for a porn set and she shouldn’t feel like he’s telling the truth but because of how firm his tone is -  the worst part is that she believes him and she shouldn’t.

Harry’s hand twitches like he’s about to reach out and grasp her jaw like he’d always done when he felt she wasn’t listening and she needed to, he’d bring her into his chest and whisper the words against her temple as he rubbed her hips.

“I’m telling the truth,” He states sincerely, hand moving instead to scratch at his bare stomach, “I’m only doing this on one condition. After we shoot, we need to talk. If not then I’m backing out and we’ll both be fucked for money.”

YN feels a bit of bitterness rise in her tone, who is he to make demands?

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

“Oh but there is. This time you're going to listen and not storm out of my life again,” His tone has anger behind it, an unusual occurrence because he was much better at staying calm then her.

“Fine, we can talk,” YN relents because deep down she really really wants to be intimate again and despite her mild protesting, her body is wired because sex with Harry means orgasm, good orgasms.

Not the ones by a vibrating massager or her fingers, he’s the only person who knows how to work her body like a fiddle until she’s a teary mess that doesn’t know if she wants more or not.

-

We - oh, fuck. H, we shouldn’t,” YN gasps into his mouth, she was panting already and he takes her plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his hand works under her dress with direct purpose.

“Tell me to stop then,” Harry challenged cockily, two fingers making her feel full as he curled them up to pet her spot that made her legs quiver against the countertop, his body keeping her upright.

She needs to tell him but she can’t find it in her because she doesn’t want him to stop, they were at his parent’s house for an anniversary dinner.

He had said he wanted to show her something upstairs but what really happened was he crowded her into a bathroom and yanked her dress down until her tits spilled out and his hand pushed her underwear to the side.

“Gonna tell me?” Harry prompts as his mouth ducks down to nip at her hard nipples, switching back and forth quickly, taking his time to move lower and suck bruises into the supple curve of her breast.

YN shakes her head, giving in to the pleasure, and letting her legs splay open against him, “Don’t want you to stop. You make me feel so good, baby.”

It was a bit too sweet for the situation they’re in but it makes Harry crack a fond, boyish smile as he stands straighter to kiss her again but it’s intimate and loving before whispering, “You’re my whole world, sweet girl. Always going to make you feel good. Now come on my fingers, baby.”

-

She’s snapped out of the memory by the director coming back over to where they’re standing tensely with a good amount of distance between them.

“Alright, now that you’ve met!” Warren claps his hands together, oblivious of anything out of the ordinary, “Time to get this show on the road. An easy scene, more romantic than raunchy. You’re a couple who are waking up for some morning sex. It’s that easy.”

YN honestly liked how Warren directed his films, there weren’t a million scene cuts or positions, he let the actors follow the natural rhythm and rarely had to redirect a shot - almost giving off a homemade vibe with studio quality.

She feels a sick mixture of anticipation and an oncoming panic attack, her palms are sweaty as she shucks her robe - leaving her in a oversize tee that falls to her mid thighs with a sheer pair of bikini cut panties under.

“Alright, YN right side. Slip under the duvet but make sure to turn on your side, left thigh out of the blanket,” Warren directed, once she’s laid down, he messes with the blankets until the curve of her bum and leg are on display - easy to shove off once they get started.

Harry follows as well, turning on his side so he’s spooned up right behind her, bum right in the cradle of his pelvis, and he’s already hard against her - it made her flashback to their mornings when they woke up together and had slow, giggly morning sex.

“Hard up for it?” YN murmurs quietly, she wasn’t sure if she was joking or if it was a jab at him - maybe both at this point because most men needed more to get hard to film than this.

“Considering I have dreams about your cunt nearly every night, can you blame me?” Harry whispers in her ear, ignoring the bustle of the people setting up, his hand splayed on her tummy, “You’ve lost weight. I don’t like it, missed grabbing on to you. Miss you filling my hands.”

“Everything’s been shit since we’ve broken up,” She admits shakily when his hand naturally starts to pet at the skin near the band only her panties - he was right, she had lost weight, not intentionally, but eating made her stomach churn most days.

“I know. It’s been hell,” Harry agrees with no judgment, it felt too comfortable to have him like this again, and she felt no discomfort as he traced her skin - thumbing at a scar she had on her hip that he always kissed.

It’s like they forget that they're here for a reason as Harry already tries to move the process along before they’re even rolling - he had always been impatient when he was horny and had no shame in his body during it.

YN gently grips his wrist when he tucks his fingers under the soft silk of her underwear to tease at her mound and shakes her head, “Not yet.”

“This goes against every instinct I have to let anyone watch you get fucked. The only way I can manage is to know that it’s going to me owning this body again. Has anyone made you come like I have, sweet girl?”

YN also missed this part too, he was by far the best talker during sex, everything he said sent an electric zip through her, and he had a mouth filthier than any sailor when he was on her.

“I’m-, yeah,” YN lies lamely, she can hear his warm chuckle as he palms her tummy once again and pulls her impossibly closer - she didn’t want him to have the power that he truly had over her.

“Are you telling me nobody’s made you come since we broke up?” Harry asks but he already knows the answer, “Know your cunt’s aching for me. You smell so good, m’mouth is watering. This is my first scene with another person, I’ve just been doing solo shit. You’re the last person I’ve touched.”

She shouldn’t feel satisfied at that but she does.

“You already know,” YN huffs out with an annoyed edge, she knows he has a cocky grin that makes his dimples pop boyishly - one of the first things she fell in love with and one of the things she missed the most.

“Quiet on set!” Warren announces to all the staff who are making small talk or any type of noise, he has a marker in his hand and starts now that all the noise has disappeared, “Mark. And Axel, Starlet, you're on.”

The lights are dimmed, to give the illusion of the sun barely kissing over the horizon, the bedrooms styled in a modern farmhouse vibe making it cozy and realistic, and the bed was surprisingly plush and comfortable.

YN closes her eyes to feign sleep as does Harry for a good minute before he begins to rouse with a deep inhale and a low groan as he stretches, his arms rustling above his head.

She can’t obviously see what he’s doing but instead feels when he leans forward to kiss the nape of her neck - it’s a jolt of shock because she’s missed it so much and it feels nice.

This all just seems like a fucked up fever dream.

“Sweetheart,” He murmurs softly, his hand moving up to tug the collar of her shirt off her shoulder so that his lips could make line from her ear to shoulder blade, “Wake up for me, baby.”

YN fakes a whiny grumble as she wriggles back into him, feeling his sharp intake of breath with the friction on his center, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more room to roam his lips along.

“Tired,” She complains brattily but it warps into a squeak when he nips the cap of her shoulder before soothing it with his tongue, back up to her jaw to suck a spot into her skin as he pulls her harder back into his groin.

“Please, darling,” Harry drawls against her skin, he kicks off the duvet to display their bodies, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt before slipping in and upwards against her warm skin, “I need you.”

His fingers raise goosebumps against her tummy before he’s cupping both of her breasts, hidden under her shirt but his thumbs come to her nipples - they’re already hard for him as he rubs them in lazy circles as his lips don’t stay still for a moment against her skin.

YN lets out a hurt mewl when he pinches at them before thumbing over the acute pain and easing it with softer touches - it was something intimate that he was hiding this from the camera, it was just them for a brief moment, “So desperate for me. Let’s get your shirt off, need to see these pretty tits.”

It scared her because it didn’t sound like acting, it sounded like how he talked when they were living together, when they were in their bed.

“Stop teasing,” She mumbles as she lets him tug the shirt over her head, his right hand moves to her mouth, tapping at her plush lips.

YN opens automatically and he presses two fingers inside her mouth, stroking at her tongue before taking them out to rub the sheen of spit on her nipples - he watches curiously as they pebble even more before pinching at them again.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning,” Harry hums with a hint of humor because it was actually true, she was not a morning bird at all.

“M’not grumpy,” YN disagrees, her voice hitching at the end when he gives a particularly hard tweak as they become more sensitive and taut, “Just want you to do something.”

“Do something,” Harry mocks in that deep, gravel accent before he’s kissing the hinge of her jaw and rasps, “Just remember, you asked for it. So desperate for my cock, it’s cute.”

Before she can bite back, Harry’s hand moves into the front of her panties, thick fingers sliding down her folds before two are tucking up right inside and curl against her velvet, warm walls.

He knew her body like the back of his hand because he’s petting her spot with precision like he remembered right where it was and how much pressure she preferred.

YN let out a loud, surprised moan.

It was authentic, really one of the first she’s ever let out that was real on set as her toes already begin to curl and she was struggling to keep her eyes open as electricity zipped through her.

“Did I find your spot, baby?” Harry asks innocently despite his actions, he’s grinding himself into her bum to get some relief as his thumb moves up to swirl on her clit with harsh movements.

“There, s’good,” YN gasps kittenishly, spreading her legs further to give him more room and beginning to roll her hips down onto his fingers, riding them without another thought, she wasn’t even registering the cameras anymore.

“Yeah, darlin’. I know all your sweet spots, hm? Hit ‘em just right to have you dripping down my hand like a good girl,” He praises before nipping at her jaw and twisting his fingers with a harsh, steady rhythm - he smelled so fucking good, like pumpkin spice and cedar, strong and heady - it made her dizzy with want.

“I-I’m cl-close, baby,” The pet name slips out as her muscles begin to tense, walls contracting against him, she doesn’t know if she’s ever come this fast, definitely not in a long time because it took her aback.

She missed it so much.

She missed him so much.

It felt like a sick joke to her to have to act out what used to be, what she missed, what she craved.

It was like groundhogs day but amplified by a million.

“Then fuckin’ give it to me. I’ve earned it yet? Soak my fingers, pet,” He encourages as he speeds up and presses down harder on her button - his bicep flexing deliciously, straining all of his strong muscles.

It has her tipping over the edge, it’s the first mind-numbing orgasm she’s had in a year and it’s with her cheating ex-boyfriend who she thought she was going to settle down with, house with a white picket fence, babies running around, and this was what she got instead.

Her eyes are squeezed shut as her body tremors through it, his hand slowing but not all together stopping either.

Her body was conditioned to respond to him and it gave in to him so sweetly that people watching this would be blind not to see - no one could act this well.

“Perfect, did just what I asked,” He hums as she comes down, he’s pulling the shirt off her head and tossing it to the floor before doing the same with her underwear.

His hand moved up her belly, leaving a damp trail in its wake from her wetness until he cups her breast, lips back to her neck with slow, wet kisses.

“Plea-please, H,” YN mewls as he pinches at her nipple but he punishes her with a nip, whispering in her ear, “No names, pet.”

It takes her a moment to realize her slip because she wasn’t fucking acting - she couldn’t even find it in her to be embarrassed.

She wanted to get her mouth on him before they got to the main event and so she’s wriggling out of his grip to turn and face him.

YN straddles his thighs, his big hands automatically coming to grip her hips - indenting enough to bruise and Harry looks vulnerable for the first time today.

His eyes are wider than usual, his lips parted, and his stomach was sucking in and out revealing his ribs before disappearing back into the strong muscle.

YN goes to shimmy down, he shoots up and grips her jaw hard, bringing their mouths back together in a hard kiss - her breasts pressing against his bare chest.

When she finally has a moment to pull back for a breath, Harry murmurs too low for the microphones to catch on, “Missed your perfect little mouth so much. If you even wrap those lips around me, I’ll come. Let me fuck you, darling.”

YN can do anything but nod, trying not to preen from the compliment - he squirms around for a moment as he shoves his briefs down his thighs and kicks them off his ankle.

God, she missed everything about him.

He was as pretty, thick, long as she remembers.

Her heart flutters when she spots the soft pinkish scar on his pubic bone a few inches up and to the left of his base - she’d forgotten about that.

-

“Bloody hell!” Harry yelps out in surprise, sitting up from the bed and looking down at his groin, “S’definitely not supposed to hurt that much.”

“You made sure this was meant for wax play right?” YN asks as she puts the candle back on the bedside table before examining the little blob of lavender wax on his pubic bone.

“I didn’t know there were specific candles!” Harry whines out as YN picks the wax off, a small bubbling blister already forming on his delicate skin.

“Baby,” YN chastised with a giggle and a shake of her head, “We better put some neosporin and a bandaid on this so it doesn’t get infected.”

“It hurts so bad, need you to take care of me,” Harry’s pouts as she disappears to get the supplies from their bathroom.

“How are you still hard?” YN laughs as he winces in pain as she gently dabs the medication on the wound and unwraps the bandaid.

“Don’t make fun of me,” He grumbles as he tries to hide a smile, his hand moving to rub her plushy hip, and his nose nudging at her cheek, “You constantly make me hard. S’gonna nearly be impossible for me to lose a stiffy around you.”

“Who said romance is dead,” She rolls her eyes but it’s fond and she can’t stop giggling because he just makes her so happy.

“Never going t’be,” Harry murmurs, sex voice one hundred perfect back in motion, now that he has a purple bandaid on his burn, and he’s leans forward to begin kissing her belly and his hands coming to knead at her bum.

The candle long forgotten.

-

She runs her fingers over the puffy skin where she had accidentally burnt him - she didn’t know why it made her eyes prick with emotion.

When YN glances up at him, Harry is watching her so intently as she traces over the memory - the moment doesn’t last for more than a minute but it moves in slow motion for her.

YN snaps out of it when she remembers exactly where she’s at and what she’s supposed to be doing right now - in front of cameras because this wasn’t an intimate moment, it was all for the cameras.

At least, that’s she’s telling herself to save her sanity.

Harry could always sense her mood, her emotion, and now is no different, and so he helps her get back on track, asking, “C’mon, darling. You want my cock? S’aching for you.”

“Please, want it,” YN agrees as Harry adjusts their position, his length sliding between her folds and it has him tilting his head back and moaning - it was loud and beautiful, deep but at the same time desperate as his hips twitch up.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry hisses as he grips his base to paint the tip through her folds, teasing at her entrance before moving up to smack the weight of it against her swollen clit - repeating that cycle a few times as he mouths at her nipples.

“Stop teasing,” She huffs out in frustration because she wants him in, she wants to come again, but at the same time, she never wants this to end  - this right here is what she thought she would get for the rest of her life.

“Spoiled thing,” Harry chastises as he guides himself in, hands moving to her hips and pulling her down all the way onto him until she’s settled, it makes her feel so full, Harry must agrees because he’s groaning, “Darling, s’tight. Fuck, you feel good. Best thing I’ve ever had.”

It didn’t feel like he was lying.

“Ride me, baby,” Harry encourages as he leans back against the headboard, his strings hands moving her hips back and forth in a grinding motion, harsh circles that made her stomach tense, “Show me what a good girl you are.”

She wanted to show him what he fucked up, what he gave up.

YN rises up on her knees, pulling herself nearly off of him until his tip is just kissing at her core before sliding on the way back down, slow and purposeful as her hands move to cup her breasts.

“Stop tha’,” Harry scolds possessively, knocking her hands away and moving to grab them himself, fingers pinching at her nipples in the exact way she liked it, “Am I not doing good enough or are you just too greedy for your own good?”

YN lets out a wet mewl, falling forward until her chest is pressed against his, her forehead resting on his shoulder, “S’good, you’re so good. H, you’re so good, baby.”

Harry shushes her softly, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her into his chest as close as possible before he’s thrusting up into her with full force, the sound of skin meeting echoing through the room as he kisses the side of her face.

“God, I’ve fucking missed you,” Harry whispers in her ear, just for her, he’s panting as he exerts energy into fucking her, kissing her, hugging her, and YN falls off the edge for another orgasm, sobbing in pleasure into his neck, “That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, pet.”

He only thrusts up a few more times before he’s coming, keeping her still, deep in his lap as he works through it, lips moving to just press against her temple as he slows his hips and relaxes back more.

YN kept her head tucked against him, her cheeks were wet from tears, from a mixture of her multiple orgasms and heartbreak - she was sniffling and didn’t want the cameras to see this.

Harry hears the sniffle, the way her breathing is stuttered from trying to hold it back, and he’s looking up at the room of people, “Cut it. We’re done.”

The camera crew apparently doesn’t halt filming as quickly as Harry has asked and so he’s raising his voice loudly, “I said fucking cut it. Turn off the goddamn cameras. The scene’s over.”

Warren is coming over, a genuine concern on his face, “What’s going on? Is she hurt?”

The question offends Harry, he barks out, “I didn’t fucking hurt her. She’s okay. I got this.”

YN nods, muttering “I’m fine.” And wanting everyone else in the room to disappear.

Harry’s rustling them around a bit, having pulled out by now, and is shoving her big tee shirt back over her head to cover her up before moving them until he can wriggle her underwear and his back on.

“YN,” Harry’s voice is softer than when he was ordering everyone around a minute ago, “Baby, I need you to breathe. Everything’s okay. You’re okay.”

-

“You’re okay,” Harry coos as he holds her to his bare chest, “Everything’s okay.”

The water was cascading down on them, hot and steaming up the bathroom, as they stood under it - just embracing, unsure of how long they’ve been in there.

“I miss her,” YN cries into his chest, her chest hurt from how much she’d been crying - her eyes were swollen and sore, “It doesn’t get easier. I can’t believe it’s been two years. It feels like yesterday.”

“It does,” Harry agrees solemnly, he still remembers the day her mother was diagnosised with cancer, “I miss her too. She was an amazing woman. And she gave me you, the love of my life.”

“I couldn’t do this without you,” She says honestly, goosebumps prickling her skin even despite the temperature.

“Never have to do it without me,” Harry replies as he reaches to turn the water a little hotter, “S’a promise baby.”

-

“I’m fine,” YN spits out a bit harshly, shoving his hands off of her - he doesn’t get to comfort her like this when he fucking cheated on her.

She wishes she regret what she just did but she didn’t, however she needed a minute to breath and so she’s sliding off the bed and straightening out the shirt.

YN knows she’s running away but she doesn’t get far before Harry’s fingers are curling around her wrist and stopping her.

“Hey. We had a deal,” He reminds her firmly, his lips in a tight line - she has to ignore the blossoming hickeys she left all over his neck and chest, “We’re gonna talk.”

“Yeah,” YN lies breathlessly, “I really need to pee. Come to my dressing room in fifteen minutes?”

“Okay, m’going to shower real quick then,” Harry agrees, squeezing her wrist once more before he’s turning to go back to his dressing room.

YN is whipping open the door in a panic, “For fucks sake, Niall. We have to leave now.”

“Everything okay?” He asks from where he’s still lounged on the couch, “Do I need to kick someone’s arse?”

“I just did a scene with Harry,” YN whisper-shouts, tugging on her leggings and jamming her feet in her tennis shoes, “Let’s go.”

“Bloody hell,” Niall’s eyes go wide, he has so many questions but finally gets some urgency, shoving her shit into her duffle before swinging it over her shoulder and guiding them out the emergency exit.

-

Harry can’t seem to catch his breath on the shower, hard choking sobs wracking through his body as his forehead rests against the ceramic.

And he can’t stay in here much longer because she’s waiting to talk, he doesn’t know where to begin, how to apologize.

He’s tugging on a tee and running shorts before making his way back to her dressing room, his hands shaking with nerves - the confident pornstar long gone.

When he knocks, he doesn’t hear anything, and so he twists the knob, the room empty of anything beside the furniture - making it clear she was long gone.

“Fuck,” Harry hisses before punching his fist against the wall.

He wasn’t going to let her get away twice.

[theostrophywife]

As far as fluffy Eris thoughts go… I really would give anything to lay back against his broad chest while he reads a book aloud, big arms bracketing around your shoulders to hold the book out in front of you both. His chin would be resting over your shoulder, his breath fanning over your ear… I bet you could feel his chest rumbling against your back as he speaks in that soft low voice… hips resting between his thighs, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder, rubbing gentle circles on his knees where they’re propped up around you… I need it 😭

willow.

the more that you say, the less i know; wherever you stray, i follow i'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, yeah that's my man

author's note: willow was written for eris vanserra and eris vanserra only.

autumn leaves rained down from above you, littering the forest floor with red, orange, and gold. the seasons were changing and the last of the summer heat was ushered out with a soft breeze that held the promise of fall.

eris pulled you in closer, his strong arms wrapped around you like the roots of the weeping willow you were currently sitting under. buttery sunlight peeked through the tree's branches, its warmth kissing your mate's fiery hair and freckled skin. you breathed in the fresh air mixed with amber and blood oranges—the unmistakable scent of your lover.

when you woke up this morning, you hadn't expected to be able to spend the day like this. usually, you and eris were busy with overseeing the affairs of your court, but today your high lord insisted on taking a much needed break. so here you were, perched in his lap, enjoying the first day of fall while eris read you poetry under your favorite tree.

"l'amour est le miel," you said. eris nuzzled his nose against your neck, making you giggle. "pretty please, mon amour."

"anything for you, ma chérie."

you settled against his chest as eris turned the page, easily finding the poem by its folded edge. your mate rested his chin on your shoulder, his solid chest a comfortable resting place as you leaned back to listen to him read.

la vie est une fleur, l’amour en est le miel. c’est la colombe unie à l’aigle dans le ciel,

you closed your eyes, feeling the gentle rumbling of your mate's chest against your back as he spoke in that sweet and soft low voice that he only ever used with you.

life is a flower, love is its honey. it is the dove united with the eagle in the sky,

there was something so soothing about eris reciting poetry. he had a voice like honey, warm and golden, spreading through your entire being like nectar. eris snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you taut against him, his fingers tracing soothing patterns upon your skin as he placed you between his thighs.

c’est la grâce tremblante à la force appuyée, c’est ta main dans ma main doucement oubliée

eris cradled you between his long legs, smiling as you leaned in to place a kiss on his knee.

it is trembling grace with sustained force, it's your hand in mine gently forgotten.

with his breath fanning over your cheek, you sighed in content as his hand crept up the bodice of your dress. his kisses were warm and wet against your neck as deft fingers unlaced the front of your corset. eris pulled down your blouse underneath, placing an openmouthed kiss on your shoulder. when your gazes met, his eyes were full of fire.

"sweetheart," eris said gruffly, his teeth grazing your earlobe. he wrapped his fingers around the hollow of you throat and whispered the three words that would be your undoing. "i need you."

you straddled his lap and pulled him in for a kiss, your lips melding together while you rolled your hips against his. you could feel his desire, both physically and emotionally, and you wanted nothing more than to fulfill his every fantasy. eris slid his tongue against yours, devouring you with a ferocity that reminded you of the initial years when the mating bond first snapped. decades had passed since then, but your hunger for one another only seemed to grow with time.

"i want you," you whimpered against him. "i want all of you, eris."

he growled and nearly ripped your dress to pieces, along with his restraint. eris hiked up your skirt as you unbuckled his trousers impatiently. the ache within you was excruciating, every fiber of your being screamed for eris.

"i know, my love." finally, you freed his cock from his trousers and he groaned as you rubbed the tip against your slick. "fuck, have all of me. everything that i am is yours."

your lover groaned as you eased onto his length, taking inch after inch like a woman starved. when he was fully sheathed inside you, eris rested his head on your shoulder, his moans buried deep within your skin. large hands gripped your hips as you rolled against him. the pace you set was indulgent, making your legs shake each time his cock thrust further into you. it was a clash of teeth and lips and tongues as you put your bodies to the test.

the pleasure was indescribable as the two of you made love underneath the willow tree. it was a meeting of souls, an exchange of who you were, who you are, and who you would be. you couldn't tell where eris began and you ended. you were one and the same, fusing together like some brilliant merging of worlds. the comedown was euphoric. there was nothing quite as blissful as sharing that intimate moment of vulnerability with your lover.

afterwards, eris cradled you in his arms and smoothed your hair back before leaning in to press a kiss on your temple.

"je t’aime chaque jour davantage," he whispered. i love you more each day.

you smiled and gave him that same unwavering answer that you first declared to each other underneath this willow tree.

"je t’aime pour toujours."

i love you forever.