#MMM PATHETIC HUSBANDS

[neuvistar]

jingren fucking their pretty pregnant wife 🥺🥺 ofc in a gentle and caring way!! (blade is fighting his demons)

youre getting hornier and more sensitive since your pregnancy, so they have to be gentle with you!!! blade would softly finger you while jing yuan squeeze and kiss ur full breasts to calm your pain, praising you for being such a good wife!!

they don’t want to hurt you or their baby so they have to be careful with theirs thrusts, deep and painfully slow bdksbdksn i love my pathetic husbands

REAL REAL (sorry for the late reply nonnie)

YUUUP YUUP and how can they resist you when you’re there tugging at their arms w your pretty tits pressing against them?? rubbing against their clothes and asking them to fuck you so so good </3 how can they resist?? (they can’t)

you would be there laid out so nicely with your legs spread, your sweet little belly out in the open for them to see, blade would have to slap himself and try not 2 be so rough with his fingers, it only makes sense since i’m sure ur sensitive 2 even the slightest touch!! jing yuan gripping and caressing your breasts so gently, kissing and maybe even sucking on them sometimes cuz he’s a lil silly like that but who cares! he would whisper sweet things to u, mumbling how much of a pretty and obedient girl you are, taking both of them sooo well </3 it’s so so hard for them 2 keep their demons in and not absolutely fuck their pretty lil wife into oblivion when you’re asking them for more, bucking against blade’s fingers while you push jing yuan further onto your breast, ITS SOOO HARD FOR THEM TO RESIST BUT PROPS 2 THEM FOR RESISTING ANYWAYS!

i agree i agree, once they do fuck you their thrusts r so slow and steady w sm care, choked moans leaving their mouth at how easily they slipped inside you and how quick your insides pulsed around their aching cocks </3 they’re so pathetic and sweet mwah mwah

[gurugirl]

I need a breeding kink blurb PLS 🙏🙏🙏

⛔️ WARNING ‼️ SMUTTY SMUT BREEDING KINK SIZE KINK ALL THE KINK (enjoy 🤭) + plus a link to an audio porn on tumblr to really get into that wet pussy sound 🙈 I'm so sorry in advance but I am in fact ovulating according to my calculator and this was... Anyway there's no plot, this is basically only smut. PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT INTO THIS KIND OF THING THANK YOU

587 words

😈😈😈😈

"Oh baby... look a'you... getting stuffed so deep. Loves getting her little pussy filled up and bred yeah? Need Daddy's come honey? Need me to put more babies in this belly? Fuck you til your tummy's swollen, your tits are full of milk, and pussy ruined?"

"Mmm..." you tried moaning but you were out of breath and your gargled noises were stifled by the way he was plowing into you, long and heavy strokes that dipped into your guts and punched the air from your lungs. All you could do was lie there with your legs spread apart as he fucked the life from you. His fat cock was making your walls ache he'd been going at if for so long.

"Can't speak, little mama? Don't want the kids to hear do we? That's right... just let daddy fuck you til your come hole is full of my sperm and let it sink in deep so I can knock you up over and over again. Likes her pussy stuffed with cock and come and her womb full of babies..."

Harry loved it when you were pregnant. You already had two kids and he was raring to go for a third. But so were you. You loved watching him be a dad. And you'd love to see him holding another tiny baby again - your tall, tattooed, and strong husband holding that delicate bundle against his chest with tears in his eyes, humming a tune and swaying slowly back and forth. Just for that, you'd give him as many babies as he wanted.

"Already had you stuffed with all my cream this morning, now here you are all sweaty and gagging for more. Fucking need it don't you? Gonna take my come honey? Little mama wants it, yeah?"

You could barely nod but you managed to knock your head back and forth. You were exhausted after he'd already given you two orgasms but now you could feel him coming to his end, his arms were shaking and his thrusts were getting sloppy with that big cock twitching as he stretched your walls. His impressive size was addicting.

"You ready? Think you can take another load?"

"Mmmm..." a pathetic wet mumble fell from your lips as Harry choked out a groan, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake the kids and you felt him throb and throb as he dropped his mouth open wide and pasted his hips against yours, unloading hours and hours worth of vital come into your womb, his balls emptying every drop inside of you.

You were very much done for by the time he pulled out but Harry wasn't. He angled your hips up with a heaving chest and stuffed himself back inside, holding his shaft to keep steady as he fucked his come into you, "There we go. Let's get that all in there," he watched as he dipped inward, keeping you full of his sperm, wet squelches (NSFW LINK - opens up a tumblr audio porn, no visuals 😈) coming from your pussy with the way he was plunging back into you to make sure his come didn't leak out, "Get that pussy fed and happy," he hissed as he pumped in gently, his cock sensitive to the touch after his orgasm.

He enjoyed the view of it... your shiny puffy pussy wrapped around his thick shaft as he pushed his come back inside you until he couldn't stay hard any longer. You were sure that was baby number three.

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @bananabk9756 @gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @lightsoutstyles @certainlysyko

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! &lt;;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

S-I-M-P. ( HOTD x Reader )

author note: The top vote has won! Modern! Aemond it is! Plus, your Aemond simp's have been neglected by me for too long.. pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Wife! Reader prompt: I was listening to 'Submissive & Breedable' by Smosh as a joke when writing this. So take it as you will.. Lol word count: 1, 000+ words

When you and Aemond met five years ago, you literally knocked him off his feet. Not in some cute metaphoric sense, like you walked past him as if you were some super model on the runway, or your eyes met across the room like in some cheesy rom com. But you accidentally smacked him in the face with a door. A literal ‘knocking him off his feet’.

After a thousand apologies from you, some tissues for his bloody nose, and a crappy slice of pizza, were shared. It was perfect. You and him were perfect, a little chaotic at times. But, he liked to joke that it was love at first hit. Which was why he wasted no time to put a ring on your finger and officially make you ‘Mrs Targaryen’. He would have no other woman, but you.  

Watching as you help his Mother set up the kitchen table, Aemond couldn’t help the lovesick grin spread on his face, feeling like a puppy. You, his wife, were just perfect. Gods, he loved thinking and hearing about it, you, his wife. You, his wife. Letting out a pathetic giddy giggle under his breath, he knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. You were just everything to him and there was something so…so perfect about being able to officially be with you for forever that was so amazing and giddy. If he wouldn’t get mocked for it, he’d be floating after you like a cartoon. 

“She has you so whipped. Pathetic.” Aegon jokes, “Like a Simp.”

“At least I am not you, twenty-five, single and living with our parents. What’s it like being a leech and burden to our mother, Aegon?” Aemond insults, the words falling out without a moment's hesitation.

“Ouch.” Aegon scowls, all joy in teasing Aemond dying in an instant.

“Yes, well, I am going to see my wife now. You know, because I have someone to go home to.” Aemonds adds, purposefully rubbing it in his face now. 

“That’s cold.”

“Mayhaps, but it’s the truth.” Aemond nods, taking a sip of his beer.

Snorting as Aegon sulks deeply at the insults and gabs, he cracks a smile as he hears your laughter, his head turning without hesitation. Seeing you laugh at something Helaena said, he brightens up in an instant, perking up in his seat. Any thoughts of bickering with or insulting Aegon are long forgotten. Standing up from his seat, he doesn’t spare Aegon a glance, his attention on you. 

“It was all in good humor.” Aegon mumbles, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Mmm-hm, well, I am going to see my wife. Enjoy yourself.” Aemond mumbles, his eyes on you

“Simp.” Aegon mocks, “Does she also boss you around during sex?”

“No, but at least I am getting some, unlike you. Enjoy your left hand, Aegon. Cause it's all you will be spending your time with.” Aemond mocks back, not bothering to see the fallout.

Feeling a familiar arm wrap around your waist, you turn your head in an instant, perking up at the sight of your husband there. There was something so nice about being able to call him that. Aemond Targaryen, the grumpiest man you knew, was all yours. Smiling brightly, you stand up on your tippy-toes to reach his face, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek for a moment. Feeling him melt into your touch, you perk up at it, enjoying the small reaction you could get from it.

“Hello, love.” You mumble, the affectionate nickname falling from your lips naturally. 

“Hello there, what are you three up to?” He whispers, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

“Just gossip and good fun.” You dismiss, a little too quickly. 

“What kind?” He asks, humming softly.

“We are just talking about stuff, Aemond. Don’t worry, it’s gossip and stuff.” You wave off, not wanting to know the truth.

He’d be mortified if he knew the truth of your conversations, practically melt into the kitchen floor if he knew his Mother had made a joke about his grumpy cat-like mannerisms and how he glowed when around you. Feeling his grip tighten around your waist for a moment, you tense up for a moment, fearing that he’d attempt to tickle the answer out of you. That was the last thing you wanted to happen whilst his family was visiting.

“Well, now I am suspicious.” He teases, a warm smile on his lips.

“It’s nothing, love.” You lie, attempting to brush it off.

“You promise, nothing bad?” He asks, his voice gentle. 

“Nothing bad. I promise. It’s all just teasing and lighthearted. You know it’d do nothing bad.” You reassure, a gentle smile on your lips. 

Watching his reaction carefully, he presses a gentle kiss onto your cheek and neck, his chin resting on your shoulder. He looked so beautiful in his light, all calm and droopy eyed. Chuckling at the way he lazily clings onto you, you welcome the gentle touch, savoring how comforting it felt. Mayhaps, his Mother was right in a way, he was different around you. A tiny pout on his lips instead of the usual scowl. His eyes droopy and soft, instead of hard and calculated. 

“You know that I love you, right?” He whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Hmm?” 

“I said, you know that I love you, Y/n?” He mumbles, his voice gentle.

“I do.” You chuckle, enjoying hearing him say it. 

Shaking your head with a soft giggle, there was this soft dopey look on his face, it was hard to tell if he was fully sober or not. But, a tiny part of you didn’t care in the slightest. Just hearing him say that he loved you, it was the best thing to ever exist. Pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek once more, he lets out a low hum of approval, his eyes shutting for a moment. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers over and over, “I love you. I love you.”

“You are drunk.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“A little. But, I get to call you my wife so it does not matter.” He shrugs, making it obvious he was slightly tipsy. 

“You are going to regret this in the morning, you do realize that, right?” You joke, the soft smile on your lips growing. 

“I can handle Aegon’s teasing. But, so long as you keep on smiling like that, it’s worth a hangover.” He whispers, nothing but love glimmering in his eyes. 

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[eccentricallygothic]

|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed. 

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure. 

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake. 

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat. 

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth. 

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave. 

Simple, right? 

No. 

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan. 

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching. 

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear. 

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear. 

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head. 

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago. 

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how. 

No one could come in and you could never leave. 

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move. 

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity. 

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal. 

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book. 

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long. 

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy. 

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner. 

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter. 

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing. 

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.  

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof. 

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them. 

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat. 

Everything was rough and dirty about him. 

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent. 

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it. 

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone. 

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back. 

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air. 

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered. 

Memories of how it felt inside you. 

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that. 

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost. 

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to. 

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore. 

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved. 

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once. 

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer. 

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility. 

"I- I said…"

"You said?" 

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping. 

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt. 

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it. 

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed. 

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there. 

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible. 

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision. 

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased. 

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push. 

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur. 

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs. 

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day. 

[starlightsuffered]

Sperm Donor

Info - unprotected sex, trying to get pregnant, jealousy, teasing, finger sucking, breeding kink, a little bit of hard Dom

“Positive?” Timothée asked Hopefully as I opened the bathroom door. I shook my head sadly.

Timothée and I had been married for five years. We had finally decided we were ready for kids. The issue was, I wasn’t getting pregnant. We had been trying since his birthday and nothing.

“No,” I sighed.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” Timothée said mournfully. He wrapped me in his arms and petted my hair.

“Maybe we should use a sperm donor,” I said jokingly.

“Excuse me?” Came the harsh response.

“Yeah, since you can’t get me pregnant,” I said casually. I could sense his jealousy and anger. For some reason, I wanted to poke this sleeping lion.

“Y/n,” Timothée growled. I secretly loved when he got this way.

“You jealous?” I asked. This was all I needed to say. I was thrown against the wall and kissed. I put my hands I. His hair and moaned.

He was stripping me all while one hand dove into my panties. He was rolling my bud of pleasure and I couldn’t help but jerk a couple times.

“Baby, I’m your husband,” he purred.

“But I’m not pregnant,” I responded just to get it rougher. He slapped my cunt.

“Are you saying you’re not grateful for my cum?” He asked.

“Load after load, but I’m not with child,” I said in a sing song voice. I knew this would piss him off. I was right. He threw me over his shoulder.

I was on the kitchen table, bare and displayed. Timothée was eating my pussy. His mouth was inside me. I was so wet and heady.

“You’re delicious, you sure I haven’t made you the bearer of my child?” He asked.

“Test says no,” I gasped out. Timothée made a face. He was on me in a second.

He entered me and began to fuck me like an animal. He was shoving his cock so deep inside me. He was even laughing. He was treasuring my desperation.

I lifted my legs and pressed them to my chest. He kept them there. He held my legs down. He kept fucking me wildly.

“You ask me if I’m jealous?” He asked as his long and hard cock was slamming into me.

“Of course I am. I am your fucking husband.”

“I-fuck, oh, fuck, Timothée,” I wailed.

“You want a sperm donor huh?” He asked me. I tried to answer but he shoved his fingers into my mouth. I suckled needily. My eyes rolled back in my head. He was going at me like an animal.

“As if you’d ever touch someone else’s sperm, you’re a fucking addict to me,” he chuckled darkly. I groaned. He took his hand away from my mouth.

“Mmmm, wanna suck,” I said in a pathetic voice.

“I thought you were thinking about sperm donors,” he teased me.

“Ah, ah, ah,” I gasped out. I couldn’t make words come out. I felt so good. I felt my toes curl. He lifted one of my legs so he could hit me at a deeper angle. My leg rested against his shoulder.

“Say it again. Say my sperm isn’t good enough,” he egged me on.

“Just, fuck, wanna be, oh shit, pregnant,” I squirmed.

“Oh you’ll be pregnant, I’m gonna breed this fucking cunt,” he growled and punctuated his words with thrusts. I was panting. Just those words leaving his mouth made me wetter.

“Breed,” I begged.

“That’s right princess,” he smirked.

“Breed me,” I pleaded.

“Yes darling,” he agreed. He bent over me and continued to slam in balls deep. He kissed me sloppily. Saliva was everywhere as our tongues met and caressed one another.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” I whined.

Timothée was massaging my sensitive breasts. His cock was buried inside me. I could feel him twitching as he possessively fucked me.

“What’s wrong with my sperm?” He whispered in my ear.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” I breathed.

“So you don’t mind if I dump my big load inside you?” He purred.

“Oh fuck, oh yes, please do it, breed me,” I moaned.

“Good girl!” He cried out. He began to shoot ropes and ropes deep inside my fertile womb. I was shaking with my own orgasm. We were both shaking and moaning as I was filled. He was still going, fucking his sperm further inside me. We were kissing again. I wrapped my legs around his waist so that he didn’t pull out.

“Let’s go again,” Timothée gasped. “Gotta fill you to bursting. I want to make you full.”

“Yes, make me round. Give me all your cum.”

Sure enough a couple days later I registered as pregnant. Timothée was so proud of himself he bred me all over again.

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss: Ch.6

Warnings: Angst, Alcohol, Suggestive, 18+

Ch.5 Here | Ch.7 Here

***

You woke up wrapped in a familiar embrace, sighing deeply in contentment. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right. You snuggled deeper into the body next to you, pressing your lips onto his neck. You dreamt of this moment so many times, placing soft sleepy kisses on his skin. He stirred at your touch, arms tightening ever so slightly around you. “Mmm, good morning Rhys darling,” you murmured against his skin, a small bite to his neck accompanying your words.

His body went still, arms slowly pulling away from you. You were surprised at his actions, blinking your eyes open to ask your husband what he was doing. You were surprised when hazel ones met yours instead of the violet you had been expecting. “Az? What are you doing in my bed?” You asked, mind still blurry from sleep. He coughed awkwardly, sitting upright.

“Uh, you let me in last night?” He answered, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Last night? Why would you have invited him into your bed last night? Where was Rhys, why weren’t you in his room- the memories flooded over you like a bucket of ice water. Ah. That’s right, your dear, darling, wonderful husband had betrayed you. You closed your eyes and laid back on the bed, wishing to sink into that dreamworld again. You couldn’t say you truly wanted your husband back after how he hurt you, but a small piece of you yearned to go back to before all of this. Before Under the Mountain, before Feyre, before he admitted his love was a lie. How pathetic is that?, you thought to yourself, placing a hand over your eyes. You’d go back to a marriage full of deceit just to be happy again.

You felt the bed shift as Azriel stood, the uncomfortable tension thick in the air. “I’ll go now, if you wish. Do you need anything?” He asked, thoughtful as ever. You shook your head, melting further into the pillows and blankets around you. You listened as he crossed the room and waited for the open and close of your door before you sat up. You ran a hand through your hair, sighing deeply.

“Get over yourself. Rhysand doesn’t want you.” A small smile graced your face at your next thought. “May as well make him regret it.”

***

You bathed and dressed, making your way down to the kitchen to get food. You would resume your act again, pretending everything was fine. You still chose to avoid your husband, not wishing to suffer in his presence.

You spent the next days reading, playing games with Cass, and beginning to train with Azriel. You had never trained in your time of being Rhys’ wife, as he had decided it wasn’t important for you to know how to protect yourself when you had him. You were enjoying your body getting stronger, admiring yourself in the mirror in your bathing room most nights. You had found a new serum that was making your hair thick and silky, flowing gracefully down your back. Your skin even seemed to glow, a newfound self-worth shining through you. You were beginning to wonder if Rhysand had always been dragging you down.

You would overhear vague stores about Rhys and Feyre when Cass and Az spoke, but you mostly ignored it. Something shifted uncomfortably in your chest when you heard about him sending her into the Weavers cottage to retrieve his mothers ring, but you shoved that feeling down. There was no reason to care about what he did with her, his clearly chosen love. As far as you knew she didn’t yet know about the bond, or at least hadn’t accepted it. That fact gave you a small amount of satisfaction.

You looked up from your book at the presence of your two large friends, raising an eyebrow at them. “What is it?” You asked, noticing the apprehension on their faces. They shared a look before Cassian stepped closer to you, clearing his throat.

“We are going to the Hewn City,” he glanced at Azriel again, “all of us.” You didn’t miss the meaning behind his words, closing your book and standing.

“Of course. How, pray tell, does our High Lord wish me to present myself?” You inquired, the cold mock politeness already lacing your voice. Cassian shifted, clearly not wanting to tell you.

“He requests that you dress as typical, leaving your rings and tattoo visible.” You nodded at his words, not surprised in the slightest. Rhysand wouldn’t want too many rumors spilling out about his marriage, not yet.

“Very well,” you replied, setting your book down and heading off to your room. If that was what he wished, you would happily oblige.

***

You slid the once-meaningful wedding bands onto your finger, admiring the way they shone. You had taken it upon yourself to clean them, the elegant stones sparkling in the light. You wore the earrings and necklace from your wedding day, crafted to match the rings. You had those cleaned as well, enjoying the way they looked against your skin. You gave yourself an approving look over in the mirror, running your hands through your hair.

You looked irresistible.

You wore a beautiful blue velvet gown, one of Rhysand’s favorites. He always dressed you more modestly and in lighter colors than the other females of the Night Court, something you had chalked up to him being protective. As if, you scoffed, turning to the side to admire how the fabric clung to your body. You had some alterations done to this particular garment while Rhys was gone, hoping to surprise him with it when he returned home. Unfortunately for him, you never got a chance to wear it.

Until now, of course.

The dress was now tight on your chest and waist, deep holes cut out on the sides. The top of it had been cut into a V, not quite as plunging as some of the others, but more than you usually showed. The cut outs on your sides went down just enough to show anyone that you had forgone underwear, a touch you thought would drive your husband crazy. What a shame he turned out to be a massive dick.

Your hair was kept down, delicate diamonds strewn throughout it. Your makeup had been done to give you that perfect Dark Queen look, lips painted like rubies. You had never felt quite as stunning as you did in this moment. Perhaps revenge could be quite fun.

You slipped on your heels, tying the straps up one up your calves. A knock sounded at your door, signaling it was time to go. “Come in,” you called, focusing on getting your shoe on. The door opened and Azriel stepped in, stopping at the sight of you. You turned your head to him, smirking at his star struck expression. You straightened and walked over to him, one heel in your hand. “Care to assist?”You asked, handing him the shoe and raising your dress.

The sight of him kneeling in front of you affected you more than you expected. He so delicately slid the heel on, fingers brushing your skin as he laced it up. Your breath hitched, feeling on fire everywhere his fingers touched you. You felt like he took longer than necessary with the finishing knot, looking up at you when he was done. He stood slowly, hands moving up your leg until he had to pull away. You stared up at him, cheeks flushed. “Ready?” He asked, voice a hair deeper than usual.

You nodded, taking his arm when he offered it. You didn’t fail to notice how his siphons complemented your dress a little too perfectly. Another one of Rhysand’s dirty tricks, no doubt. His favorite dress, crafted just to mess with his brother.

Azriel led you to one of the balconies of the House, carefully picking you up into his arms. You noted how he positioned his hands in such a way that they would not brush the bare skin on your sides. He looked at you to confirm you were okay for him to take off before shooting into the sky. You breathed deeply as the air whipped around you, bringing a sense of calm to you. You felt confident, beautiful, dangerous. You were prepared to see Rhysand, to play your part in his endless game.

Azriel’s shadows traveled the two of you to the gates of the Hewn City, meeting the rest of the group. He placed you gently down on the ground, brushing your hair back from the flight. You turned to meet the violet eyes glaring at you, relishing in the anger in them. “Evening, Husband. How would you like me tonight?” Sensuality dripped from your words, playing off the insinuation they gave.

“Feyre will be by my side, Wife, if that pleases you?”, he drawled, holding his hand out to the female next to him. You bit back a laugh at her dress, if you could call it that, realizing the act he was performing tonight. You bowed your head in respect, hiding the smile threatening its way onto your lips.

“Whatever makes you happy, My Dearest.”

***

You stood at the doors to the throne room, Azriel and Cassian dutifully by your side. Typically, the two of them and Morrigan would head into the great room first, you and Rhys following close behind. He would lead you up to the dias, making sure you kept a step behind him. Always the dutiful, perfect, submissive wife.

Tonight, you would walk in first, flanked by the General and the Shadowsinger. The act alone will be enough to have rumors whispering through the court, Rhysand walking in with a different female will send them rampant. The great doors opened and you strode in, holding your head high. You gave flirty smiles to the males lining the way to the throne, enjoying the blushes you received. It was well known that no one looks at the High Lords wife the way they were now.

Azriel and Cassian walked a hair behind you, ever your protectors. You felt safe with them close to you, even down here. You heard gasps fill the room, knowing Rhysand and Feyre had entered now. You continued forwards, not reacting to the whispers you were already hearing. You took your place just behind the right of the throne, Azriel standing next to you this time. Cassian and Mor took the other side, all kneeling as the High Lord made his way to his throne.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he placed Feyre on his lap, a flash of rage flooding through you. He had never allowed you to even stand directly next to him, much less hold you like a trophy in front of his court. You put on a mask of cold indifference when he allowed everyone to rise, standing tall by the pair on the throne.

Keir approached, eyes flitting between you and Rhys. “My Lord,” he said, bowing his head. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Can I not come and go as I please? Do you expect me to run my doings past you, Keir?” Rhys drawled, hands running up and down Feyre. You shoved down the feelings of disgust and jealousy coursing through you.

“I would never suggest such a thing, High Lord.” Keir responded calmly, raising his head. “Who is this…delightful creature you’ve brought with you?” You wanted to laugh at his clear dislike of this situation, but knew better than to break the mask you wore.

“This is Feyre Cursebreaker, is it not? Show her some respect Keir.” He forced the older male onto his knees, making him bow to the scantily clad female on his High Lord’s lap.

You refrained from rolling your eyes.

“I meant no disrespect, my Lord,” Keir ground out, fighting against Rhysand’s power.

“Oh, let him up,” Feyre spoke, running a hand down your husbands chest. Her voice was low, sultry.

You felt sick.

“Anything for you, Darling,” Rhys purred, allowing Keir to stand again. Your hands tightened onto each other behind your back, your mask threatening to fall. You felt a soothing brush of cool against your back, one of Azriel’s shadows grounding you.

Keir turned to you, bowing his head again. “My Lady. We are always blessed with your beauty.” You bowed your head back, bringing a polite smile onto your face at his sick tone.

“Always an honor to come, Keir,” you said back, feeling the annoyance radiating from Rhysand. They were supposed to pay attention to him and his pet, not to you.

“You don’t have to call her ‘Lady’, Keir. My wife holds no such title.” You couldn’t hide the momentary shock and hurt at Rhysand’s cruel words, an attack you should be used to by now. You schooled your expression back into calm indifference, a small laugh falling from you.

“Now, Husband, he is only being kind.” You chided, smiling at Keir again.

Rhys scoffed. “Arguing with me in front of my own court now, are you?” He ran his hands up high on Feyre’s body, mouth coming down to brush her neck. “No wonder I had to find another to please me.”

His words hit you like a knife in your gut, tears pricking behind your eyes. You felt Azriel’s shadow press onto your back, reminding you to stay strong. You nodded towards Rhys, looking at Keir. “As he says,” you spoke softly, too embarrassed to fight any harder.

Keir looked uncomfortable, unsure what to do with the clear tension between the two of you. “Well, please enjoy yourself tonight, my Lord,” he said, bowing to Rhysand before hurrying down the stairs and into the crowd.

Rhys waved his hand, gesturing for the music and partying to begin. Everyone quickly jumped in, not wanting to acknowledge the confusing situation between High Lord and wife. You took a step down to join the party, a harsh hand on your wrist stopping you. “You will not humiliate me in front of my court again, girl.” Rhysand sneered, eyes full of hate. Feyre giggled from her place on his lap, seeming to enjoy the demeaning way he spoke to you.

Azriel was by your side in a second, shadows swirling around you. “Release her, Rhysand,” he commanded, hand on the dagger at his waist.

“Threatening me, brother?”, Rhys spat, his cool composure falling slightly.

Cassian came to your other side, hands raised in a gesture of peace. “You don’t want to make the rumors any worse, Rhys. Let her go, you can deal with her later.” He mediated, trying desperately to not let the situation escalate.

Rhys scoffed, hand tightening on your wrist. “Fine. Take your whore and get out of my sight,” he spat, throwing your hand down. Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders, ushering you out of the throne room. You rubbed your already bruising wrist, hot tears falling down your cheeks.

***

You drowned yourself in alcohol when Azriel brought you home. You held the bottle of tequila tight in your hand, drinking it like water. You would do anything to forget the night. The confidence that coursed through you earlier was gone, replaced by a pathetic sense of uselessness. “I’ve never done wrong by him,” you rambled, taking another drink. “I have always been the best wife I could, following every rule he set!” You paced around the balcony, agitated and hurt.

Azriel stood quietly against the railing, watching you as you yelled about Rhys. “He could have just asked for a divorce! He found his mate, I would’ve let him try. I would’ve been sad, sure, but it would be better than feeling so fucking betrayed!” You finished off the bottle, heading inside to grab another one. You nearly stumbled headfirst into the expensive liquor cabinet, Azriel grabbing a hold of you at the last second.

He overestimated the force needed to keep you from falling, instead pulling your back tight to his chest. You looked at the slight reflection of the two of you in the glass, the matching blue of your dress and his siphons standing out. His hands tightened on your hips, flattening out over your skin. The tips of his fingers slid under the fabric of your dress, holding you tighter to him.

Your heart was racing at his touch, at the sight of the two of you. His shadows were swirling around you, their cold touch a harsh contrast to your hot skin. Azriel dipped his head down, his nose tracing your neck. You couldn’t help the way your head bent to his touch, silently begging him for more. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You hummed against him, hands coming to hold onto his arms. “I need you to,” you whispered, heartbeat skipping when his hands pushed farther into your dress. He groaned into your skin as his lips brushed your neck ever so slightly.

“You’re drunk,” he said, thumbs drawing soft circles on your stomach.

“Not too drunk to not know what I want,” you responded, unwilling to let this moment pass.

“You are dangerous for me,” he whispered between kisses on your neck, his hands delving lower. You let out a light moan at his touch, encouraging him to keep going. He hissed against you, biting the sensitive spot on your neck. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for far too long.”

You melt into his words, his fingers trailing over your abdomen. You whined as he took his time running them over your upper thighs, touching you everywhere except where you wanted him to. The kisses on your neck grew sloppy, his desire taking over his control.

You turned your head to him, looking up into his lust-filled eyes. “Az,” you spoke softy, “I need you.” He looked like there was a war going on his mind, his hands stilling on your thighs. His eyes dipped down to your lips, his tongue coming out to wet his own. He was breathing heavy, like he had just run a marathon and back. “Please,” you whispered, wanting him so badly it hurt.

He bent down, mouth millimeters from yours. One of his hands rose between your legs, a finger lightly brushing your center. You moaned at the light touch, body on fire for him. His breath fanned over your slightly open mouth, ready for him.

“Hey, where are you guys?” Cassians loud call broke the bubble you were in, the two of you jumping apart. You smoothed your dress down and cleared your throat, walking back to the liquor cabinet.

“In here, Cass!”, you called, pulling out another bottle of tequila. He came into the room, pausing slightly at the sight of the two of you.

“Everything okay?” He asked slowly, looking curiously at Azriel.

“Everything’s fine.” Azriel answered, voice curt. “Just heading to bed.”

You contemplated grabbing a third bottle.

***

Here is chapter 6 for you all!!!! As always let me know what you think!!! If you want to be added to the taglist please reply in this post or message me :). Thank you for supporting this story and I hope it’s living up to your expectations <3

Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters @mybestfriendmademe @thaynarajejheje @brujitafantomatico @justdreamstars @thisblogisaboutabook @lees-chaotic-brain @abeltownshipslittlebitch @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @fxckmiup @its-sam-allgood @miluiel1 @nickishadow139 @hailqueenconquer

* crossed out blogs are ones it wouldn’t let me tag!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Partners in Crime 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you’re left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You walk with the officer through the mall. He takes you towards Entrance #6, opposite the one you came through. You’ll be lost trying to find your way back. 

He slows so he’s slightly behind you as you approach the doors then steps ahead to open one for you. You hesitate and clutch your hands together. You dip your head down and try to smile. Your ex-husbands words ring in your head; don’t forget your manners. 

“Ladies first,” the sheriff waves you through first. 

“Thank you, sir,” you hurry past him to the next door. 

He’s quick. Especially for his size. He follows and brushes by to get the outer door as well. You thank him again with a shy glance in his direction. You’re used to being polite but it’s rare for anyone to have the same grace for you. 

He comes out behind you and you stop short of the dip in the curb that lines the front of the facade. He’s close as he points across the lot to his cruiser. It’s hard to miss as it’s the only vehicle in the part of the lot. You twist to look back at the mall. It feels eerily desolate out here. 

“Just a few minutes and you’re free to go,” he assures you. 

“Okay... yes, sir,” you answer. 

He leads you across the tarmac and you stop by the hood of his car. He goes to the driver’s side and opens it, bending inside and pulling out a pen from above the visor. He backs out and leans on the door as he slides out a small notebook from the inside of his jacket. 

“Ahem,” he clears his throat and takes a casual stance, one foot hooked over the other, his toe dug into the ground, and arm bent on the top of the cruiser. He scribbles onto the pad then hovers the nib as he looks at you, “you okay, darlin’? Not meaning to scare you.” 

“I’m good, just...” you glance back at the mall, “I got a lot to do.” 

It’s a lie. You really don’t want to be there. You only wanted to come to the mall, find a gift, and be gone. It’s all sideways now. Even if he lets you go in the next few minutes, you won’t be catching any bus before noon. 

“Sorry to keep ya,” he grins, “I’ll be quick, how about that?” 

“Sure, uh, officer,” your eyes flick to the star on his chest, “sheriff.” 

“Not at all. Sheriff Bodecker, that is. And yourself, darlin’?”  

He looks at your expectantly. You provide your name in a mutter. He repeats it with grit. 

“Now this man, can you walk me through where you saw him?” 

You take a breath. It’s really not that big a deal. It’s easier than resisting. You learned that with your ex and your previous run in with the law. 

“I was in Swarovski,” you point back to the mall, “just looking and he was there. I only saw him for a few seconds.” 

He writes as you talk, nodding and humming to prompt you along, “that it?” 

“No, I went... to Hallmark and he showed up there. I was looking at cards for my grandma and... that doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

“That’s sweet,” he says, “so Swarovski, Hallmark...” 

“Um, the TV store. The one with the informercial stuff. I left when I saw him,” you twiddle your fingers nervously over your chest as you hold your elbow tight to your body. 

“Mmm,” he nods, “sounds like he was followin’ ya, don’t it?” 

“I don’t know. I tried... not to notice, I guess.” 

“Good thing I found ya,” he wiggles the pen in your direction, “a dangerous man like him, you make an easy target.” 

You frown. Are you that pathetic? 

“What I mean is...” he flattens his hand next to your head, hovering it parallel to the top, “you’re a bit on the smaller side, ya know?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you rock. That’s a fair point. 

“Unfortunately, you got some sickos out there who see it as an advantage, even an invitation,” he taps the nibs as he tuts. “Give what you told me, well, us law men, we know better than to believe in coincidences.” 

“You...you said he’s dangerous?” You murmur and clasp your hands together. 

“Not to scare ya or nothing,” he unclicks the pen and presses it to the notebook as he clutches it in one of his large hands. “I’m just doin’ my job. Serve and protect and all.” 

You can’t help the pout you give across the lot to the mall. You knew it too. That man was definitely following you. It’s easy enough to do in a half-empty mall. Your stomach flips as you imagine what could have happened. If the sheriff hadn’t come along and you wandered off to the bathroom. Could that man have found you there? 

“Oh, I guess I should probably just leave,” you say and hug yourself. “I can come back...” 

“Now, I can’t let ya do that,” the sheriff insists as he slides his notebook into his interior pocket. “Not alone. I’ll be more than happy to be your chauffeur, darlin’.” 

“Uh, that’s nice but--” 

“I’m afraid I have to insist. For your own safety.” 

“Sheriff, I think...” you begin. You swallow your protest and shrug, “okay, thank you, sir.” 

“You got really nice manners,” he smirks, “you don’t gotta thank me now. It’s my duty.” 

“Right, er,” you bounce on your feet.  

You’re going to have to find something somewhere else. You’re too freaked out to stay or even think about the present now. You failed again. No big surprise. You can even screw up something as simple as a shopping trip. It would be impressive if it wasn’t miserable. 

“Now you get on in,” the sheriff brings you back to reality as he gently brushes your arm with his hand and urges you along. He seems even bigger as he looms so closely. He opens the back door. “Protocol, sorry ‘bout that.” 

“Oh,” you stare into the backseat. You’ll be sat back there like a criminal. “Even a sheriff can’t have company up front.” 

“Sure,” you accept meekly and duck through into the back. You just want to go home. No sense dragging your feet. 

You get in and he girds you to buckle up. You do so, crossing your arms as you sit back against the leather, and he shuts the door. There’s no handle to let yourself out. Only he can free you. That thought makes you shiver. 

He gets in the front, the car moving with his weight, and he jostles in his seat. 

“You okay back there?” He asks as he pulls his seat belt forward. 

“Fine,” you answer as you cross your legs, jiggling your foot. 

He turns the engine and the car rumbles to life. You definitely didn’t expect the day to go this way. Leaving in a police car? Even for you, it’s a bit too much. 

He shifts into gear and rolls lazily through the lot. You’re quiet as you watch the mall until he turns onto the main road. Maybe it’s only that that man had been following but you’re uneasy. And who wouldn’t be unsettled? 

You watch traffic flow and it’s only a block away from the mall that you realise you’re going in the wrong direction. Another epiphany follows. He never even asked your address. The chatter of his scanner makes your ears hurt. You lean forward as much as you can. 

“Sheriff,” you call through the cage. “Did you need my address?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Your heart squeezes painfully. He reaches to flick off the scanner. 

“What did ya say, darlin’?” He asks. 

“My address?” You repeat. 

“Ah, yeah,” he chortles, “silly me, headed back to the station outta habit.” 

You give your address and he approaches the next four-way, flipping his signal, “gonna have to retrace my steps,” he clucks. “Don’t worry, I'll get ya where you need to be.” 

[kattartsblog]

Metalocalypse but as silly things me and my sibling say on a daily basis.

Nathan: “You never know what happens if you eat your green beans.”

Pickles: 🎵 "Everybody watch me drink, do do do do doodly do~"🎵

Skwisgaar: "Go get your husband, GO GET YOUR HUSBAND!"

Murderface: *looks up at the sky to see a small bit of sunshine through the rain* "It's a piss circle."

Toki: (said in a sad and pathetic tone) “Mmm, chicken nugget" ;m;

Charles: "And for that reason, I'm out." (yes, they were quoting shark tank)

Magnus: “No, I can’t be a villian! I work at a pizza place NOOO!!”

Abigail: "The guy interest is the guy interest."

Knubbler: *twerking, one arm raised in the air* "I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seth (not the drummer): BECKY, WHY!!!

Masked metal assasin: Fire bats, fire slimes, I know where I am. I’m in hell!

[breedtheseed]

House wife Adam (imma use Omegaverse cuz why not I need Adam pregnant cuz I’m CRAZY)

I need house wife Adam, I need him in an apron and cooking for Lucifer and their kids. AHHHHH BARK BARK

Imagine Lucifer comes home from work and sees his husband making food for their kids and he’s complaining about how they didn’t tell him they had a field trip coming up.

“Mmm what’s the matter Adam,” Lucifer says as he goes behind the 6’5 man, kissing Adams back as he looked around to see what the man was cooking.

“These damn kids always wait till the last second to tell me shit,” Adam grumbled as he lowered the heat to let the food simmer. “The twins have a field trip on Monday and Seth has a project that’s due on Monday, I just wish they didn’t have my forgetfulness.” Adam groaned as he turned to face Lucifer, putting a little distance away from the food.

“Sounds like a lot,” Lucifer looked up at Adam with sympathetic eyes, “maybe next weekend I can ask my sister to watch the kids and we have a day to relax,” Lucifer’s hands traced Adams hips. Adam rolled his eyes “I’m sure Emily and Peter would love to see their cousins for a day,” Lucifer smiled up at Adam and Adam met him with his own soft smile.

“Mmm you know Eve is going to be in town, maybe she could watch the boys for us,” Adam traced Lucifer’s shoulder, “but for now I need to cook your fucking dinner.” Lucifer frowned when Adams warmth left him so his husband could get back to cooking.

—Sometime next weekend—

Adam and Lucifer were finishing up some of their adult duties on their bed when Adam crawled into Lucifer’s lap and started kissing the man. “Whoa let me at least put the papers away,” Lucifer said as he barely managed to move the important documents onto the floor. At least there they weren’t going to risk getting dirty or ripped.

“Luci~” Adam smirked down at his small husband, Adam loved their size difference made him feel fucking powerful. Adam grinded his hips down into Lucifer’s crotch, carful not to crush the man as he dragged himself against Lucifer. His hard cock pushed against his boxers as he met Lucifer’s duck pajama pants. “I’ve been looking forward to today babe,” Adam growled as he took off Lucifer’s glasses and put them on the nightstand. “Been thinking a lot,” Adam purred as he kissed Lucifer. It was short and passionate “mmm I think I want,” Adam teased a hand over Lucifer’s dick rubbing the growing hard.

“Yeah,” Lucifer’s voice sounded pleasing and pathetic, just the way Adam liked it. Adam bit his lip as he felt himself growing wet, fuck he needed this.

“I want to have another baby,” Adam admitted as he pulled Lucifer’s pajamas and underwear just enough for Lucifer’s cock to bounce out. Adams own dick throbbed at the sight. “I love our boys, but feel like our home is missing something,” Adam admired as he lowered his own underwear, Lucifer’s mouth was watering and his dick throbbed at the sight of Adams own hard dick.

“I know what you mean,” Lucifer too had been getting baby fever lately especially when some of his coworkers were showing baby pictures around the office.

Adam moaned as he slid onto Lucifer’s length, Adam was already so wet and loose from preparation earlier in the shower. “Fuck~ I never get used to that,” Adam moaned feeling how Lucifer’s hands slid under his shirt and groped his boobs, breastfeeding had made them less sensitive around the nipple but more sensitive everywhere else. Adam whined and shifted his hips in the way he knew would have Lucifer whimpering, he smirked down at his small husband.

“Common Luci~ make me a mommy again,” Adam while leaning back on his hands showing Lucifer his full pussy that was just under his dick.

It was like a switch was flipped for Lucifer, he grabbed Adams large round hips from multiple births and began to fuck into him. Adams moans only encouraging him as he thrusted into Adams warmth, “fuck Adam,” Lucifer moaned as his hips tried desperately to roll into his Adam.

“Ohhhhh yesss~ Lucifer right there~ Ahhhhh uhhh mmmm,” Adam bit his lip and adjusted his legs wider, fucking every other day had really made him flexible even at his age of 38 and Lucifer’s of 43. “Oh Luci~ oh OHHHH!!!” Adams head flew back as Lucifer began to jerk Adam off in time with his thrusts. Lucifer groaned when he felt Adam began to tighten around him, fuck the mans soft warmth was making Lucifer see stars as he fucked into his lover.

Lucifer whined as he hugged Adam close, his hips desperately rutting into Adam as he brought them both to climax.

—about a few months later—

Adams hips were sore from god knows what at this point and he was at Cain and Abel’s baseball game when it happened, someone in front of him and Lucifer had sat down with a nice juicy chili dog with jalapeños and cheese and the smell on a regular day would make Adam drool. That was not today and he had to use all of his willpower to make it off the bleachers before throwing chunks in the poor bag less trash bin. Adam whined when Lucifer touched him, he felt hot but not like he was sick. Lucifer had in a panic leaped from his spot and gone to his distressed mate, instincts kicking in as he rubbed Adams back while Adam helplessly blew chunks. He was quite familiar with this feeling and looked back at Lucifer.

“Babe I want to go,” Adam whimpered as he wiped his lips with his sleeve, Lucifer was really worried and looked back towards the game where Abel was going up to bat. Lucifer bit his lip and kissed Adams forehead.

“Ok let’s tell the boys,” Lucifer reassured Adam as he walked away to the dugout calling over the coach and Cain and explaining the situation. Cain was immediately nervous when he saw Adam holding Seth’s hand while walking to the car.

“Is Papa ok?” Cain said with a worried look, Cain rarely referred to Adam as papa and this just showed how worried he was.

“Everything will be fine,” Lucifer told the eleven year old, his six year old was already being ushered to their car. “Just tell your brother that Dad got sick and has to go home,” Cain nodded and sat back down biting his nails, the boy had a bad habit but so did Adam.

After making a trip to the drug store and calling Lucifer’s sister, Adam Seth and Lucifer sat in the living room. Adam and Lucifer were waiting for the results of the pregnancy test while watch a cartoon with Seth who was talking about his projects at school and how well he preformed. Seth was quite the smarty with being way about his brothers level when they were his age.

“Mmm Lucifer I feel sore,” Adam whined as he got more comfortable, “Seth baby could you get me a water?” Adam asked and watched as his six year old ran to the kitchen. “I think I’m pregnant,” Adam admitted when he knew the boy was out of earshot,

“Yeah me too,” Lucifer said “but we’ll have to see what the test says.

When Cain and Abel came home they immediately checked on Adam making sure their dad was ok before even touching their dinner, and even later that night Lucifer and Adam finally looked at the test.

“If it’s negative we could try again,” Lucifer said as he watched Adam slowly turn the test over.

“Yeah,” Adam gulped as he flipped the test, a sad frown coming into his face when he saw it was negative. Lucifer knew Adam took a lot of pride in how fertile he was. Lucifer rubbed Adams hips as he kissed Adams back.

“Hey it’s ok, there’s no rush,” Lucifer hummed and Adam melted into him, “your heats coming up~” Lucifer grinded his hips into Adams ass. “We can try again then,” Lucifer heard Adam purr as he could hear Adam and shuffling. Lucifer’s eyes widened when Adams pants fell, “right now?” Lucifer said in surprise when Adam looked down at him with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I said I wanted a baby, give it to me short stack,” Lucifer wasn’t going to disobey his beautiful husband and mother of his children.

(I got carried away lol don’t mind my bad grammar and spelling)

[cherryeol04]

Untouched (M)

➻ Pairings: Minho x Hyunjin x Changbin

➻ Genre: Established Relationship, Romance, Smut

➻ Additional: Fantasy AU, cucking, threesome

➻ Word Count: 915

➻ Warnings:

 ➻ Author’s notes: Fae Hyunjin is at the mercy of Sea Serpent Minho, forced to please the other man while his husband, human Changbin, watches. While being degraded and told how worthless his cock is, Hyunjin is also forced to admit how much better Minho is at fucking him - how good Minho makes him feel. This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

“Fucking worthless.” Minho hissed into Changbin’s ear at the same time as he slapped his weeping cock, pulling a strangled cry from the human. He had been hard for so long now, time lost within the confines of the bedroom. It had all been his idea - he had practically pleaded with Hyunjin. He never thought it would turn out to be this good. “Pay attention, stupid human.” There was no venom to the words, but they served their purpose nonetheless - another moan falling from Changbin’s lips as he tried to focus his gaze on the other male, vision slightly obscured by his tears.

“Mmm, that’s better.” Minho hummed, his slitted yellow eyes raking over Changbin’s naked form. He gave another slight appreciative hu, but just as quickly as the attention had turned to Changbin, it was gone. Minho’s strong, broad back was turned to him - pale skin glinting a greenish hue as the light reflected on the near translucent scale patches. Human form or natural form, the sea serpent was gorgeous. A perfect balance of neutrality and Changbin’s first and only pick for this game.

The older male made his way back to the bed where Changbin’s equally gorgeous husband, Hyunjin, was laid out for them, cock hard and achingly red, twitching every few seconds with need. Changbin’s eyes moved to Hyunjin’s hole, currently stuffed full with a vibrator. “Look at you.” Minho swatted at the toy, watching it wiggle from side to side as Hyunjin squirmed, back arching as a broken cry filled the room. “Feel good, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Hyunjin panted out, fingers curling tightly in the sheets underneath him.

“Better than what your husband’s pathetic excuse for a dick can make you feel?”

Changbin shifted in his chair, a needy moan leaving him as Minho’s words went straight to his cock. Hyunjin lifted his head towards him, eyes searching and all Chafngbin could do was nod in reassurance. He wanted this - so fucking bad did he want this. Given the green light, Hyunjin’s head fell back on the bed as he nodded.

“Words.” Minho warned, smacking the toy again, and again Hyunjin cried out with a squirm.

“Yes!  ‘S so good.” he whined and as if to prove his point, precum oozed from the tip, slowly sliding down the underside of his cock. “Minho, please.” he begged.

“Please what, darling?”

“Fuck me. Want to cum.” Hyunjin whimpered.

“Aw, poor baby wants to cum. Should let you husband fuck you.” Minho blinked a few times as he stared down at Hyunjin before sneering. “I’m sure he wouldn’t know what to do ith his dick if he was given the chance.” Slender fingers wrapped around the base of the vibrator and Minho began fucking Hyunjin with it. The beautiful fae thrashed on the bed, desperate cries falling from pretty pink lips as more precum leaked from his tip. The sight was intoxicating and it took all of Changbin’s willpower to not touch himself. 

“Look at this, Binnie.” Changbin jumped when the attention was back on him. Minho’s eyes were boring holes into his soul and he felt like prey to a hungry predator. And he was. Minho was a dangerous predator, but Changbin trusted him. “This toy can fuck him better than you ever could.” 

Changbin squirmed, a needy whine escaping him as his muscles flexed with restraint. His cock twitched nearly uncontrollably as it leaked copious amounts of precum. The head was an angry red and Changbin felt like he was at the edge, barely hanging on. “I-I-” changbin started, but the pointed glare Minho shot him shut him up instantly.

“Oh fuck! Oh god!” Hyunjin’s cries of pleasure went straight to Changbin’s dick, eyes locked on the way Minho rotated and grinded the vibrator inside of Hyunjin. Hyunjin’s breathing became shallow and rapid, toes curling as his body arched and jerked. “Minho!” Hyunjin’s body shook as the pleasure reached its breaking point. With one last cry, Hyunjin painted his stomach white with long sticky ropes of cum.

Changbin’s own orgasm took him by surprise, cock throbbing as he came all over his stomach. The rush was hot - breathtaking. His head fell back, eyes clenched shut as he drowned in the ecstasy of his release. Changbin was left a shaking mess as he slowly started coming down from his high, reality slowly coming back to him. As soon as he had enough wits about him, he realized Minho was by his side, stroking his hair gently and his lap was filled with his glowing, needy husband. He dragged his arms forwards, wrapping them around Hyunjin’s waist. The fae nuzzled into his neck, and Changbin smiled lightly, pressing a kiss to his Hyunjin’s head.

“You did so good, baby.” Changbin whispered, and Hyunjin tilted his head up to stare at the other. 

“Really?” 

“Really. So perfect.” Hyunjin beamed at the praise, snuggling himself closer to the other.

“And you did so well for us.” Minho praised, taking Changbin by surprise. His cheeks flushed a light pink, but he tried to ignore it. “Was it to your liking?”

“It was more than I could have asked for. It was amazing.” Changbin turned his head to look back at the other. “You were amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Minho hummed softly as he watched the two. “Call me anytime you want to do this again,” he offered.

“How about next week?” Hyunjin asked with a grin, giggling when Changbin choked on his own spit.

“It’s a date.”

Tags:  @jisungsjheekies@luminouskalopsia@sauceracha@hanjisungismybaby@kiwibaekie@imbonibi@jiwlys@army-of-carats@peachmilkcloud@letterstoskz@lauraneuuh@babyskz@slinekyu@feedthefandoms995@rejemi@halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @eastleighsblog@hydrawaterdragon@3rachasninja@haileybugulug@luvyev

( If you want to join the list, you can find the info here! Also I’m sorry for those listed in the tags but not getting tagged. For some reason tumblr can’t find your blog to tag. I’m hoping it figures it out soon like it did for others.)

[nightfallgame]

(NSFW) SHORT — Hiroyuki Yamada (02)

Originally Written: 08-11-21

Prompt: Hiroyuki + a childhood friend and a marriage proposal that he never expected them to take seriously.

Hiroyuki wakes up to someone beside him. He’s in his shitty apartment. That’s the first thing he takes in. And... that’s a good sign. Probably. Even as drunk as he’s sure he was last night, at least he didn’t make the mistake of following the wrong person home and getting stuck. 

But there’s still a warm body right next to his, and when Hiroyuki dares to roll over... it’s to a face that he remembers all too well. 

The memories come crashing down hard. An old friend came to visit last night. He tried to drink a little to drown out his anxieties, to try to make himself a little less of an awkward, painfully stressed-out mess. And. Well. 

It clearly didn’t end so well for him. 

An instant later, when he curls up a little more into himself, Hiroyuki catches sight of his hand... and the ring around a very particular finger. His heart almost stops. What did he do to you? There’s no way that thing would be there because of something you chose. No, he had to have spiraled once he was drunk— and while Hiroyuki’s known himself to make stupid decisions when alcohol clouds his system, forcing some kind of engagement is new. 

Panic settles in his chest and takes root in his lungs. He did this to a friend, probably the only person he knows who was truly willing to visit him and give him a chance. Hiroyuki whines. He needs to be quiet. You’ll hear him. If you wake up, he’ll have to face the mistakes he’s made, and then, he’ll have to see someone who might have cared look at him with disgust. 

And then, you roll over and pull him into your arms. 

Hiroyuki almost shrieks. His whole body stiffens up like a coiled spring at the sudden contact, and it’s only through sheer willpower that he avoids letting out some kind of pathetic sound. You hum and squeeze him tighter. 

“Mmm... it’s nice to wake up to you,” you giggle. “I’m so happy you said yes! I was really worried there that you might not accept.”

“Wh-What!?” It’s undignified to the max, but still all he can say. 

“Marrying me. That’s why I came last night, remember? I’m here because we promised... and yeah, you had to get drunk to calm down enough to properly talk to me, but that’s okay. You said yes.”

Your adoring tone is coming close to giving him a heart attack. There’s no way someone could be talking about his sorry self in such a way. But just the same, when he fights to think through the mild hangover clouding his head, Hiroyuki stumbles upon the memory of you saying something very similar years ago, back when the two of you were in high school. 

“Y-You tracked me down for that—!?” he sputters incredulously. 

“Yeah. I was serious. I needed to wait until I was sure I could take care of you, but I meant what I said back then. And you’re okay with it, right? It’s like... I really do want to make you happy with this.”

“There’s n-no way you’re serious,” he squeaks. “Y-You can’t—, this is m-me we’re talking about. I’m a drunk! I w-work a shit job and, a-and there’s no way I can afford to be a husband, fuck—” He’s rambling now, panicking even more, and Hiroyuki can’t get a grip on himself for long enough to shut up the parts of himself that are insistent he feels guilt. 

“Don’t worry about money. I’m really sorry I took so long to get back to you. I needed to make sure I could do things properly, so... I can take care of things. You’re so sweet.” You reach forward and cup his cheek in your palm. “The same precious friend I knew way back then. I’ve missed you. So if you want to and you’re really okay with it, marry me. I won’t make you. You can take that ring off right now if you’d rather.”

The way you’re looking at him is terrifying. There’s so much genuine adoration in your eyes that Hiroyuki is pretty sure he could cry. Or that he might be about to. He remembers you vaguely— most of his past has sunk into a haze from stress and too much to drink, but you’re still there. 

His own family doesn’t want to see him. Even growing up, no one expected him to ever bring home a spouse. If you marry him, you won’t have any in-laws. He doesn’t have any money or assets to share. All Hiroyuki has is his cramped, dark apartment and the few possessions scattered throughout it. You claim that you’re capable of handling everything, but why would you want to? What has he done to earn something like that? You don’t get anything out of it. 

But the thought of someone actually wanting to have him for a husband is making Hiroyuki’s throat go tight and his chest heat up. He used to dream about that kind of thing, back before he realized it’d never happen. 

Even if it’s an obvious trick, can he really make himself say no? 

“I...” He hesitates, but desperation soon gets the better of him. “I-I’ll marry you. Please, um, p-please take care of me.”

It’s all he can do to whisper that plea and look away. Meeting your eyes while he still feels close to combusting is just too much. What if you take it back now and laugh in his face? Or what if he sees disgust in your eyes that someone as pitiful as him dared to assume you were serious? 

“Aaah, thank you! Thank you so much!” Instead of any of that, you shriek with happiness and pull his tense body even closer to yours. You bury your face against his neck and laugh with delight. “I promise, I’ll make you so happy. I’ll do everything to take care of you. You’ll never have to be alone again.” Your grip is tight and there’s conviction in your voice. Hiroyuki is so stunned that all he can do is lie there and fight back the insistent tears. 

. . . 

And it does indeed turn out to be true. You marry him.

The wedding isn’t as terrifying as Hiroyuki is expecting. You keep it small, in part because of his nerves and in part because it’s not like he has any family who’d even show up. In no time at all, he’s a married man. 

Maybe a couple of nights after, though, Hiroyuki’s nerves are eating him alive. Even though you went through with it, there are parts of his head that are utterly convinced this can’t be real. It’s legal. There’s a ring on his finger and you signed the papers and everything, but he still can’t stop feeling like he’ll wake up to you laughing in his face for falling for it. 

So when the two of you are going to bed (you share a bed now, in your apartment), Hiroyuki brings himself to ask the question. 

“A-Are you sure you want this...?” 

Without alcohol in his system, it’s hard to speak. You’ve slowly been getting him to drink less, and while that does mean he feels less like shit all the time, it also means that he’s in a constant state of nervousness with nothing to dull the strain. Asking something like that is way too hard. 

“What do you mean? This as in... being with you?” you ask. Hiroyuki nods and your nose wrinkles up. “Seriously? I married you, you goof. How would I not want to be with you? I love you. You know that by now.”

As you talk, you get closer and closer to him, scooting over until you’re in his space. Hiroyuki’s breath grows tight. Your bed is bigger and warmer than his futon ever was, and sharing it with someone feels entirely different than sleeping alone. You’re always holding him, getting closer and closer until he’s lost in your touch and not feeling quite so scared. This time, like many others, you lean in and kiss him. Your mouth is soft against his, and in no time you’re pawing at his shirt with reckless desire and need. 

He doesn’t resist. When you’re like this, it’s better to just enjoy it... and try to block out the negative things still hovering in his head. Focusing on the feeling of your lips trailing down his jaw is better than paying attention to the persistent thought that he’ll never, never be good enough. 

You suck a mark into the space just below his jaw. If he was still working at Oracle, Hiroyuki would have had to squeak at you not to do it where he couldn’t keep such a thing hidden. Now, when you’re helping him search for a new job that won’t tear him apart and leave him in pieces, Hiroyuki has no excuse. It feels good. He’s hard in no time. 

Legs rubbing together to try to get any kind of friction, Hiroyuki arches up into yet another bite. You’re down to his collarbone, his shirt is gone, and he feels like he’s starting to burn up under your persistent touch. 

“H-Hey, why are y-you being so... affectionate...?” Hiroyuki mumbles. His dick is twitching embarrassingly in his underwear, and if you keep this up, there’s a good chance he’ll come before you even manage to touch him. 

“To prove that I love you and want you to be my husband forever,” you say bluntly, as if blurting it out doesn’t faze you for a second. 

“Th-That’s—!” Hiroyuki starts, but promptly gets cut off when your mouth finds one of his nipples. The sudden shock of heat makes him twist and squeak, his cock pulsing out a shamefully large drop of pre-come from that much stimulation alone. His hips buck uselessly into thin air.

It doesn’t stop. You cover his chest in marks and bites and slick trails of your saliva left behind from kisses and the drag of your tongue. You suck and bite at his nipples until they’re pink and flushed, pebble-hard, and so sensitive that Hiroyuki swears he’s minutes away from spilling in his pants like a teenager. He wants you to touch him, but begging is just too much, and anyway, how is it his place to ask for more than this?

One of your hands finds his thigh. You rub long, slow lines over his skin, up to the juncture of his thigh and pelvis, where the aching bulge of his cock is just inches away. There’s no way you can’t see the (slowly growing) wet spot where his tip rests. Where he’s leaked so much it’s visible. Hiroyuki’s face burns at the thought... but his dick twitches once again. 

“Do you want my hands or my mouth?” you ask, smiling so fondly it hurts. “Either one is fine. I want to make you feel good.”

Hiroyuki opens his mouth to say that you can do whatever you’d like to him, but he closes it slowly when his thoughts stall. He... He’s allowed to ask. You’ll do what he requests, and you won’t be angry with him for it. 

“Your hand, p-please...?” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. This is beyond embarrassing. And— while he’s come to adore the feeling of your throat around him, there’s something special about your gentle fingers stroking him off like he deserves all of the kindness you can possibly offer. 

“Of course.”

His underwear is down a second later, and your fingers curl loosely around his shaft. You don’t tease. Instead, you stroke him at the perfect pace, only breaking the rhythm to kiss him stupid as he whines. 

This is bliss. He’s in someone else’s bed where he’ll fall asleep by their side. He’ll wake up to your face in the morning, and every morning after that. There’s someone who will touch him whenever he wants it and make sure he doesn’t break down in tears after he comes and what would have been loneliness sinks in. You care enough to keep him from drinking himself to death, and you give him all of the world you can offer. 

“I-I love you,” he moans. “So much. Thank you f-for wanting me—, I’m so grateful, I-I really am. I’m happy to be your husband.”

Hiroyuki buries his face against your shoulder after that. He comes in your hand within a minute to the sound of you saying you love him in return.

[muchelburstenstein]

Totally Natural

(CONTENT WARNING: BURST)

It had been a terrible day at work. I was working on some various genetic materials for one of the more dangerous of the local forest species, doing some deconstruction of their genetic code and some of their more interesting abilities. But then one of the new hires messed up, there had been a spill nasty spill. All sorts of materials had gone everywhere, some of it even splashed onto me. Everyone else got out quickly, but I'd ended up getting really dizzy, ended up trapped with the fumes for a while, and the material we'd been working with had plenty of time to sink into my clothes.

Eventually, I'd gotten rinsed off and changed. Everyone had to go home early because of cleanup and documentation. Physical and mental examinations were required, which was fine. I'd seen some of the materials from other creatures end up on co-workers, or had them inhale the wrong pheromones, and it messed them up bad. Mutated their bodies, or altered their brains, they'd forget who they were or why, think they were only bodies to be bread. It always seems half sad and half pathetic. I couldn't imagine forgetting how important my family was to me, or how important the work I was doing was.

I'd checked out fine, although I did still feel pretty light headed. I was told to take tomorrow off too, that it was probably just a stress reaction from the accident. I HAD been in there a pretty long time, after all.

On the drive home, I'd felt the desperate desire to see my husband. I found myself missing him terribly, just wanting to hug and kiss and snuggle with him. And once I saw the man... well, I'd needed a bit more than cuddles.

For some reason, his seed gushing into my belly was the most satisfying thing I'd ever felt. So perfectly right. I assumed it was just the stress finally getting worked off. I got up to shower, and he got up to go back to doing housework.

After I got cleaned up and dressed though, I found myself binge-watching videos. Ones I'd never really had any interest in. Mating habits of bizarre creatures, especially things that laid eggs. Just... whenever I saw something that involved eggs lined up in a nest, I felt odd and shivery. Whenever they started hatching out... I couldn't help but touch myself. After the seventh or eighth time, I found myself whispering to the babies on the screen. Encouraging them, telling them how much further they had to go, how proud I was.

I had no idea what was going on. And I was so focused on the videos, I didn't notice that the hard, tense feeling in my belly wasn't from cumming so much. Bit by bit, my midsection was growing. Swelling. Several videos in, I looked well into my second trimester.

Then, I felt the first kick. But, for some reason, it didn't alarm me. I just reached down, rubbed my warm, tight midriff, and whispered "Soon. So soon, just be patient."

It didn't even occur to me. Just... everything felt right. Slowly, the thought I was pregnant had just become... ok. Not alarming or curious, just exactly how it should be. Every movement was deeply satisfying, every kick sending shivers of anticipation deep into me.

And still, for some reason, every time the eggs on screen started shifting and cracking, I became intensely aroused. My sweatpants were soaked, my panties ruined, the whole room reeked of my cum. Every time, I climaxed as the first baby animal broke through the shell of the egg. It just felt like the most perfect thing in the world to me. Exactly how it should be, that's how babies are born, they hatch.

I was big. Ripe. So close to being ready to birth. But... birth didn't sound right. That's not what babies do, not how they come into the world. They hatch. They break out of their egg. And it's the job of a good mommy to help them, however possible.

I hit play on another video as I felt a hard shove inside me. "Mmm... it's almost time..." I whispered breathlessly. I skipped forward, not looking away from the screen. I needed to see one part. Just one, the perfect part, the part that is exactly what it should be.

The egg. It was moving. The baby inside was pressing against the shell, ready to be born.

My sweet baby was pushing against my womb. It's shell. It was ready to be born, like a good baby. I rubbed my egg. "You're so good. You're ready to be born, you're so strong..." I whispered to my child.

Thrust. My breath caught as pain surged. The egg shuddered and wiggled, the baby onscreen eager to emerge. "There we go baby, nice and hard... just gotta break the shell..."

Thrust. I moned. He was so strong, tears of pride filled my eyes. "Mmm, yes, push baby, push against the egg..." I stroked the shell gently, letting my child know how eager I was to meet them.

Strange sounds began to come from inside as the animal on the screen tried even hard to escape. The egg was strong, but it had done what it was supposed to, and now only existed to break. The hard shell was starting to buckle.

Thrust! I threw my head back, a deep guttural groan escaping from between my teeth as a strange sound came from inside. "Ohhh god I'm hatching... He's hatching out of meee... Good baby, come out, let mommy meet you..." I gasped, stroking the prison hanging off the front of me.

Now was the difficult time. On the video, the egg was starting to crack, but not break. Damage was being done, bit by bit, weakening the shell. But it wasn't enough to tear it apart yet.

Thrust! I cried out in pain. It hurt so bad, but then it didn't matter. All that mattered was that my little one needed to be born, just how nature intends. "Yes baby, hatch from mommy! Nice and hard, you can do it!" I cried, just like I did at the videos. I hear my husband's voice from downstairs, but I don't respond.

Thrust! There's an awful sound from inside, and searing agony radiates out. "Oh god, I'm cracking, I'm cracking open for you! Go ahead sweetie, break mommy, break me open and be born just like you're meant to, hatch from your egg and live!"

There! A little piece of shell begins to tent out, the weakest point. Over and over, with each push, it goes a little further, until finally it falls out. The little cutie is only moments from emerging!

Thrust! "It burns, it buuurns, I can feel it bleeding, you're so close, just come out, break mommy wide open, nice and fast!" Tears well in my eyes, but I don't give in. I have to be a good mother, that's all that matters. This is my entire world, right here, between my hands, skin bruising and skin bulging as my little one assaults my insides.

Thrust! I hear a concerned call, loud steps running upstairs as I scream in pain, a stomach-churning tearing noise coming from inside. I was so close to breaking open, like a good egg. All I needed to do was let my baby hatch and it would all be over! I was such a good mommy, such a perfect egg, All I wanted, all I ever wanted was to hatch for my baby, everything was just as it should be.

THRUST! More voices, panicked as I let myself go, being as loud as I need to endure the beauty of childbirth. Apparently someone came over. I can't even comprehend them, the only languige I care to speak, that I ever want to speak again is the agonized cries of a perfect egg splitting apart for their beautiful baby! How could I have ever had a life prior to this, how could I have ever wanted anything else?!

THRUST! My skin splits as I feel my womb rupture. Fluids run from the wound. Well, if you can call an ovum breaking to let the baby come out "wounds" or "dying". Apparently these people do, as they slam the door open. A woman, I dimly recognize her as having been my boss an impossibly long time ago, in a different life. Now, the only life I have is pressing its snout against the unspeakably painful hole in the egg its trying to be born from.

The egg on the screen holds for just a moment more before breaking open, an adorable little creature tumbling out into the world. "Oh no, it brainwashed her!" The dark-haired boss human laments. Some strange creature I think I used to be. But now, I'm nothing more than a shell, and I'm about to do what good eggshells do. And I am a perfect egg.

THRUST!!! The wound grows, and grows, I'm tearing apart as I shriek, half in agony, and half in orgasm! "YES, COME OUT OF MOMMY, BE BORN LITTLE ONE, HATCH FROM MOMMY!!!" There's noise everywhere, a blonde human is preparing a syringe of some nature, the male is screaming and crying, the dark-haired one looks furious, reaching for my precious child. Probably to welcome it into the world. Or congratulate me on being a perfect mother.

It's hard to breathe now, and my vision is blurring. There's a weird stabby pain in my arm, the blonde one went near it. Dark hair mutters something about "should stabilize her, she'll survive, but it's her mind I'm worried about..." but it means nothing to me. I am overjoyed, I've been hatched from. I'm a beautiful egg, and I've done my purpose. I close my eyes, exhaustion overwhelming me...

[grace122]

Welcome my dear sinners to, once again, [Honeymoon Headcanons] presented to you by your presenter 🐼☕ anon! (I'm dramatic af and I just noticed). Today we have 🥁....! Sam! Hope you enjoy <3

----

He was nervous. It was visible to everyone's eyes, even if he tried to calm himself down multiple times. But could you blame him? He was going to marry you, the most wonderful woman he had ever met, and you'll be his for the rest of his life.

His jaw almost drops once he saw you walking down the isle with your wedding dress. Just when he swore you couldn't get even prettier you went and made him swallow those words in the most impressive way. He was stunned, but that didn't stop him from smiling widely. His eyes fulfilled with love as you made your way next to him. "You look gorgeous, darlin'" he mumbled sweetly before the ceremony actually started.

----

Once the wedding's party started, Sam danced with you all night. Sure, he had fun dancing with his family and you with yours, but it was hard to get him away from you. Loving each second you were together, and going as far as to kiss you each time both of you finished a dance. It was adorable to see, and most of his friends called him simp for that, although he didn't care. For you he would of get on his knees to accomplish each second of your demands.

You held his hand as you watched the other people dance. Loving the way your now husband was being so lovely and touchy with you. It felt so warm to be wrapped in Sam's love. That fluffy and cozy feeling that only the Texan man knew how to make you feel it. It was pure love and you couldn't wait for more, as this new chapter opened for the both of you. A chapter that you would walk together, hand in hand.

----

Honeymoon started and Sam had chosen one of the most spectacular places you could have imagined. And how could he not? It was a special moment for the both of you. A sweet honeymoon for his lovely darling, his so adored wife. You expected him not to show his love this much? Bullshit.

Your room was big and spacious, and overall was beautiful. It made you think that Sam did, in fact, planned this bit by bit, and that only made you smile even more.

You sat at the end of the bed, staring down at your sweet husband that was putting you guys baggage on the closet. You called his name sweetly, making his attention get on you in an instant. "Yes, darlin'?" he asked with a soft smile, making his way onto you. You simply smiled and embraced your arms around his neck, making him get closer to you.

Sam chuckled at the movement, his hands getting steady on your hips. "Love, are you that desperate already? Thought you would wait until the night for our special love" he whispered down on your ear, his voice getting lower and deeper by each word, making you push your tights together as to leave a little bit of the tension crawling up your core. "My good girl is in that much need of my cock? mmm?" he asked, soft kisses being disposed on your neck as he talked. A teasing laugh came from his lips at your —practically desperate— nod. "Yeah, thought so" he mumbled as he bit down on your neck, making you whine. "Now, now, be a good girl and let daddy take care of your pathetic state, honey".

----

Sam's cock fucked you like a piston as he kept you pinned against the mattress. His hands holding you tight from your wrists and your hips, letting you take all of him. He smiled to himself when he peaked at your current state. "God, barely started and You're already dumb? Didn't know my cock was that good, princess" he groaned at your ear, a malicious smile crossing his lips as he only kept going deeper inside of you. "Or maybe you're just that pathetic, aren't ya? My whore wife" he mocked you, biting down marks on your body.

It felt like a fire burning slowly on your skin each time you were with Sam. As he usually was sweet and pretty much a golden retriever when it came to you, but would be the most teasing motherfucker when you guys got in bed. It was exciting, addictive even. Harsh words and angelic praises slipping from his tongue with ease. It felt like a limbo from which you wouldn't mind staying forever.

"Taking me so well, aren't ya darlin'? Made for my cock, such a little cock-slut, my pretty slutty wife" he mumbled all over your skin, teasing you and marking you as he kept on pounding you. "Perhaps I could keep you like this all night, don't think you would mind since you love being fucked dumb by my cock, don't ya?" he chuckled, using the hand on your wrists to press it on your neck, making you feel more light headed that you already were.

"There we go, so good for me" he whispered, enjoying himself with the slick sounds and sweet moans you emitted from him fucking you. You weren't the only addicted to the high feeling, as Sam was almost as gone as you were with your whole body. He adored to see you coming fall apart from his doing, loved knowing he was the one making you moan so loud as you were. "You're crying darlin'? Feels too good, don't it?" he chuckled. "Oh, don't worry princess, I'm not fucking done with you yet. Your body still has more rounds to play".

----

Shorter than the last one, but it still commits its purpose ✨

—🐼☕

holy fucking shit this is amazing anon

[flowerpottlady]

Sharp

The worst begins...

Day 6 of Jily microfics!

MASSIVE trigger warning here, if anything at all makes you feel uncomfortable reading about childbirth, or labor or anything of the sort, please just skip this chapter.

I wrote this for me. I saw the word and was inspired - there is just something so utterly tragic about James and Lily's situation here, I needed it to be in words.

I truly hope you enjoy if you do decide to read this one, it means a lot to me.

Read under the cut!

All she ever wanted was to be a mother, it was a deep desire, something she very rarely spoke aloud. She was heartbreakingly happy when she found out she was pregnant back in december, but guilt gnawed dangerously at her once she realized she had to bring a baby into a war. A war in which she and her husband were standing on the frontlines.

And Voldemort, the monstrous lead of the enemy side targeted this human being that they created. Wanted to kill her baby. 

It was July 30th, any day now Lily could go into labor, it should have been the happiest day of her life - and instead, they were mindlessly watching the telly, the only thing they had to do since going into hiding. James had his feet up on the coffee table, something his mother surely would have scolded him for in the past. But she wasn’t here now. She couldn’t guide him through what came next. 

Lily was laid out across the sofa, her head resting in James’ lap. A pillow tucked between her thighs, another supporting her lower back. She was in turmoil, the cramping in her stomach getting worse. She strained herself mentally, holding her breath lest she make a noise and alert her husband that the worst possible thing that could happen, was actually happening. 

The telly flicked from the comedy show they were watching, to the evening news - but it was all static to her- as it had been days. Lily sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth. Her eyes grew wide in panic as a sharp pain ripped through her. 

“You alright love?” James asked, looking down at her, stroking her hair back from her forehead.  

“Mmm… just a bit uncomfortable.” She whispered, silently screaming inside. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” James asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice. 

“I’ll be alright,” she spoke softly, her words coming out like a pathetic whimper. 

“Are you sure?” 

“James.” Lily said shortly, closing her eyes and taking in another slow breath through her nose. She whimpered on the exhale, willing tears not to fall from her eyes at the indescribable pain she was in. 

“Right, well I have to go use the loo now, you’ll be okay?” 

She could only nod, and James carefully extracted himself from under her, crouching to give her another kiss. “I love you Lily.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Lil.” 

She moved her arm under her head, closing her eyes, letting the exhaustion sink in. “I love you too.” 

Once he was safely away from her, Lily allowed herself to succumb to the pain. Breathing out roughly, a sob escaping as she curled into herself. She couldn’t bare to touch her stomach right now. Unbearable fear settling in. 

As the seventh month dies. 

Lily wasn’t having her baby today, or tomorrow. 

She leaned down, pushing the pillow away from between her thighs and crossing her legs. As if that would bloody help. 

Suppressing the urge to scream, she picked up her head, looking to see if James was on his way back. She was in the clear, and she turned her face into the cushion. Groaning roughly as her belly cramped up again, her baby nestling itself right into her pelvis. 

“Lily?” Her husband asked softly, her wonderful doting husband. She couldn’t hide this from him. 

“Lil, c’mon look at me.” He said, and she could hear the panic in his voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him then. 

“Lily are you in labor?” James asked, sounding sick. 

Lily shook her head no. 

His hand was on her back, rubbing it affectionately. “Lil.” He whispered. 

“Please go away, James. Please.” She begged weakly. 

“There… there was some erm… mucus…  on the toilet seat.”

Another sob, a gut wrenching sob that broke both of their hearts. 

“Oh Lily.” He rubbed her lower back, pressing his lips gently against her temple. 

“How long have the contractions been happening?” He asked once her tears ebbed. 

She looked up at him, her cheeks tear - stained, her eyes puffy. “They’re not happening.” She told him, her voice breaking, “he’s… he’s not coming until August.” 

“You can’t put this off Lil.” 

“James… this… this isn’t happening,” she spoke, a fresh round of tears breaking through as her belly clamped up in another contraction. 

James reached for her hand, and held it tentatively, squeezing once the pain became too much.  “You’ve been having contractions sense dinner at least, I could see it in your face.” He said once she relaxed. 

“James please…. I… I can’t do this.” She sobbed, nearly in hysterics. 

“Okay. Alright, listen to me. The second this gets to be too much, I’m calling Marlene and we are going through with the birth plan.” James said, worry for his wife actually having to give birth soon now taking over every nerve in his body. “Look at me Lily,” he said, holding her face in his hands. “This is your first baby, he will take his time. We can just wait this out okay? I’ll distract you. We can try to make it till Sunday.” 

“Okay,” she said, relaxing only slightly, not thrilled with the thought of having to endure this pain for the next day and a half. But it was better than the alternative, her son being born as the seventh month died. “We wait.” 

“The second it gets to be too much, I’m going through with the birth plan.” He told her seriously. 

“We wait. He’s not coming out anytime soon.” She said, a furious look in her eye, one that James knew he wasn’t going to fight with.

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 days of Potters

[thatsnotmyvampire]

*Deirdre looks curious now*

"Ah, I see! I normally have to um...Kidnap my grooms. I don't think any male human be too fond of a bride trying to keep her head to her body with a choker."

*Deirdre sighs*

"I wish I didn't because it's not fair, humans are more scared of monsters."

~ Deirdre

Yog chuckles, literally having no idea what having a wife or husband is like but he found her story and analysis of herself very amusing.

“ Ah, Aren’t you quite the joker! Don’t bother what those pathetic humans think, i’m sure some monster down here has a condition worse than a decapitation problem, aha! Id say you’re more innocent than most monsters down here, kidnapping is the least of our issues! But you’re up there, my dear. ”

He spoke the word human’s as if it was a cuss word, but continued to joke. A sigh of sympathy left his mouth as he listened to her struggles.

“ Mmm. . I suppose i can’t exactly share your struggle, but i can imagine how hard it is just trying to find someone to love. I can’t help but wonder, why do you choose these humans over the superior monsters? Monsters wouldn’t be scared of such a beauty. ”