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satoruhour · 7 months

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gojo nuttin in you and plugging you up!!!!

a/n: request: “I’m sure you’ve probably done something about it but the way that the idea of gojo coming in you and pulling your panties up after is so IRBDJEHDBEBSBNS makes my brain numb no thoughts off the walls feral” + so im combining these two! uhm. horny devil took over me while writing

warnings: fem!reader, reader is deep in sub-space, semi-public sex, multiple rounds, pet names, calls you ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, lots of cum, n*sfw under the cut

no one really knew where this breeding kink of gojo had come around, not when he was the student talking about how annoying kids were and then got blessed with megumi and tsumiki.

he’d like to think that it wasn’t because he wanted to see little yous and hims running around the house. sure, it definitely was in his future plan, but with everything going on it would be too chaotic, so he’s willing to wait. it unveils itself to him one night after cumming deep in you; it related more to his possessiveness over you—

it rings true when he’s got you riding him in his office chair, the pleasure of his cock deep in you overtaking the discomfort in your thighs. you’ve been holding back for the longest time in the meeting with the higher-ups and the other sorcerers, unable to stop your glances toward your boyfriend while they talked of another emerging curse user.

you jumped him as soon as the meeting was over.

“f . . fuck, baby,” gojo’s breathless as he says it, a thumb to your clit and drawing languid circles. it only prompts your pussy to clench around him and your head falls down to your connected bodies. “hear how sloppy your fuckin’ cunt is, sweets.”

you can both hear and see it, see the drag of your pussy along his length and the pleasurable stretch of your walls around him. your hands go around his neck to play with his hair, messing with the abandoned blindfold resting along his clavicle.

“were you this wet for m-me, for the whole meeting?”

your scrunched up eyes struggle to open as you meet his blue ones, a choked yeah leaves your lips as you continue to bounce on him. there’s sweat lining both your bodies from the clothes still inhabiting your persons, slowly getting soiled from your juices, too.

“oh, baby, you know i would’ve dropped everything to fuck you then and there—” satoru grits his teeth when you tighten around him again and you moan out loud at the words he says. you’re not even sure whether you came, thighs shaking from your mini orgasm that you limp forward into your boyfriend’s arms.

gojo coos into your hair, doing the work now as he fucks into your spent body. the slap of his balls against your ass is obscene, whining into your ears before he starts to rut in short little thrusts again. “cumming— cu—”

gojo’s eyes squeeze shut, hiding his forehead in your neck as he spills deep in you. a deep groan reverberates from his throat, feeling his cum feel you up spurt after spurt and you’re the same, mewling softly beside his ear that only gets him hard again.

“that’s right, take all my cum, baby.” gojo mumbles, drunk on the feel of your pussy before he remembers he has a class to get to.

“you gonna keep my cum in you?” he asks breathlessly, a little softer than he expected to. but his heart soars when you nod obediently, letting him help you put your other leg into your panties. his cum still threatens to spill out, but it’s still better with the fabric barrier.

gojo is disgusting like that, “i’ll see you at home, alright?” he taps your butt playfully, landing a sloppy kiss to your lips and indulges you with a few more pecks.

that one feeling hasn’t left him since the afternoon, determined to pump you full again that he couldn’t even conduct a class properly. all he wanted to do was to rush back to you, with a sweet reward granted to him.

you were so dazed from his cock that you decided it wouldn’t hurt to put on your favourite set under your clothes, tending to your own errands as you wait for your boyfriend to return. so when you’re welcoming him with more touches than usual and a sultry voice to match, he knows he wasn’t the only one with that creampie on his mind.

you aren’t sure what round you’re on by now, pussy feeling so slick and full from how much he’s cummed in you that your mind is fuzzy and muddled.

“like it when i breed you, hm?” he slams into you from above, bed creaking from just how rough he was being. he’s got your body pressed deep into the sheets and your ass up and as usual, he’s got your back arching uncomfortably.

“y— yeah, yeah, s’much, ’toru!” you whine into your hands, feeling your orgasm approach again as you feel like you’re driven to your limit everytime and yet you come back for more. gojo is quick to cum again, cock stilling in you as he pumps you yet again and the sight is so messy.

your ass and pussy is painted with white and gojo grins seeing your hole push out his seed. he purses his lips, scooping up his cum and pushing it back in. and then he’s got you on him again, thrusting into you from below. the strings of his cum stick to your pelvis, paired with your cum pooling at the base of his cock. it’s so sticky and lewd, the squelching sounds of pussy.

“can never get e-enough, of pumping you full, princess.” you groan into thin air, juices spraying everywhere from the sheer amount of it.

“love it— wan’ more, pleasepleaseplease.” you’re out of your mind, driven into oblivion and you think that this truly was your limit, sobbing out your lover’s name when he starts to rub circles along your clit and you’re squirting, hips bucking away from the overstimulation and you grab onto his forearms like a vice.

“good little slut . . mh, squirting all over my cock— s-shit—” you’re cumming so much he can feel it on his thighs, soaking his skin and sheets. the grip you have on his cock is insane, making him so difficult to move that he grunts and stammers, pelvis faltering with a twitch to his dick.

“going to— give you another load, baby.” he mumbles breathlessly, giving one last deep thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your skull and body trembling and you’re so deep into sub-space that you just let him manhandle you roughly. satoru’s hips snap up into you impatiently before he’s cumming deep again, mind turned into mush once ropes and ropes of cum is pushed into your womb. you feel so full, so dumbed down that you don’t notice him scrambling for something in the bedside table.

“got your slutty pussy somethin’,” he whispers. the first pull out of gojo’s cock is gross, a translucent sheen of white covering his shaft from how much he’s cummed in you before he removes himself completely. you gasp at the emptiness, sinking behind into his embrace before you feel full again.

a cute little toy takes the place of his cock, a baby blue plug that is stuffed deep in you and possessiveness is starting to turn into wanting to get you knocked up. gojo isn’t sure any more.

your boyfriend prompts you to look down, caressing your thighs as he hums into your ears and you shiver lightly.

“need you to keep every last drop — can you do that, baby?” you feel him smile against your lips when you turn your head to kiss him, an affirmative response muttered against his lips together with a confession.

tagging @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @satohruu :3

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harrysonlylover · 3 months

Text

Insatiable*

Short smutty blurb based off this gif!

Wc: 1.2k

Warnings: degradation, unprotected sex, slightly mean dom h.

Trope: no specific AU

Masterlist

Harry is ascending to heaven, he’s sure of that.

He must be one of the lucky ones who were chosen to be blessed in their lifetime. He can’t quite remember what good deed he did to deserve this—but he’s not letting her get away.

His ears were ringing and he felt dizzy, almost lost himself for a hot minute before remembering to keep his eyes on her. It would be a shame to close them.

His eyes couldn’t get enough of staring at her perfect body, right in front of him.

“So fucking beautiful.” He panted, his hands frantically roaming her skin.

She only responded with a soft whine, trying to keep up and ignore the cramping in her legs. She needed his cock, needed to ride him, no matter how tiring. She wanted to show him that she’s his good girl and that she can work for his cock to earn it.

It was hitting her sweet spongy spot, daring her to fall against Harry’s chest and beg him to fuck her.

But no, she bounced like a good girl on his creamy cock that was shining with a mix of their juices. She felt like their lower bodies were on fire—the heat bubbling up in her core was euphoric.

“Pretty girl showing daddy how much she loves his cock.” He praised her, moving a few hair strands from her face, before patting her head.

Damn right, she loved it.

The sound of skin slapping and her soft whines had him rolling his eyes. But again—he couldn’t keep his eyes away for too long. Her breasts were in his face, jiggling with every bounce, begging him to knead them and have a taste.

He untied her hair allowing it to cascade down her back. He adored her hair and loved giving her head scratches, but most importantly he craved pulling it while he thrusted into her from behind.

“Gonna light me up with how warm your pussy is baby.” His raspy voice wasn’t helping her neediness, after all, she was in desperate need of his cock.

“N-need it.” She managed to confess through ragged breathing. The view he had may be sinful, but hers is sending her straight to hell.

He was laid back against the headboard, a hint of a grin spread across his pretty face. His beard was still covered in her cum from when he worshipped her earlier.

His hair, so messy from the tugging yet still curly. She couldn’t help but glance down at his chest, a line of sweat trailing down to his chiseled abs that contracted under the dim light.

Not only can she feel how wet and messy they are but she can also hear it. In fact, his pelvis was already coated.

His pupils were blown and his lips were slightly parted in awe. He raked his eyes quickly from where they were connected, watching her sink on his length, to her gorgeous face and chest.

But—he can’t quite forget the setup he made. He placed a tall mirror behind them, so he can glance at it and get a good view of her back and ass that was red.

“Is that all you got princess, hmm? Thought you were my good girl.” He landed a harsh slap on her already sensitive cheeks.

“I—am.” He swore that she almost cried right there and then. He knew how uncomfortable the position must be and still—she fastened her pace.

“Shhhh baby, just take my cock. It’ll help your greedy cunt to rest.” He mocked, not forgetting to degrade her for her sigh of relief once he pushed inside—it was like her cunt needed his cock to survive.

His hands roamed her back which arched when he purposely thrusted all of a sudden. Her head rolled backward as she clenched on his swollen cock.

She was his fucking sex goddess.

He couldn’t stop exploring her back as his ears listened to her beautiful whines and whimpers. He initially mocked her, asking her if she was ovulating—but maybe her pussy is just made for his cock.

He could tell that she was starting to get tired, her forehead dropped against his as she panted and held eye contact with him. His hand rested on her ass, rubbing over the red skin.

“Poor bunny, got tired already?” She nodded quickly, slowing down her pace.

“Then I should make use of this hole, right?” His deep voice went straight to her core as she whispered ‘Please Daddy.”

He really felt like passing out from how good she felt, so warm and wet. Just for him.

He dug his heels into the mattress and placed his hands on her bruised hips before grinning at her and thrusting inside her.

“Need to do everything for you.” His thrusts were rough, and she could feel him in her stomach.

“Always have to fuck this cunt or else you’ll drool like a puppy in heat.” The degrading went through her brain, making her moan like crazy.

He was feral with his pounding, she knew that she’d be sore for days to come. But she also knew that he would kiss her pussy to ease the pain.

She already came twice, almost came for the third time from riding him but she couldn’t continue. With his current rough force, she won’t last long.

He was so raw and primal—his tongue nipped at her skin, just anywhere. She could feel his rapid heartbeats, the thickness of his swollen length pulsing inside her as he fucked her repeatedly.

And god—don’t even ask her about his naked body, how his thighs and pelvis would look right now, all wet and coated from her juices. If she wasn’t already wrecked—he’d ask her to clean it up with her tongue.

“Cum inside me.” She begged as she held his face in her hands.

“Yeah? Is that what you want? My hot load inside of your cunt?” He teased, giving her deep slow thrusts.

“Yes—Daddy.”

“Hmm, maybe that’ll tame your pussy.” He pulled her hair roughly, and the sting of her scalp combined with his creamy cock was enough to tip her over the edge.

She trembled on his length, nails digging into his skin as she moaned his name like a mantra. His orgasm followed hers in a few seconds, unable to resist the clenching and pulsing of her warm pussy.

His hot cum painted her walls white, prompting them to moan louder as they kissed. The feeling of his cum deep inside her was like nothing else.

“My baby, so good for me.” He held her against his chest, as he pressed kisses to her face.

Sweat adorned their bodies and the smell of sex filled the room. He rubbed soothing patterns on her back before whispering to remind her of the bubble bath they had to take.

She simply replied by leaving a peck on his lips and moving herself again on his sensitive cock.

An insatiable little devil. ——————————————————

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gojonanami · 5 months

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SIT IN MY LAP - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you. ✴︎ contents: fluff, domesticity, satoru being a cute girl dad, crack, innuendo, daughter's name is satomi, implication of pregnancy, wc -> 1,350

Satoru Gojo was blessed in almost every single way — from his cursed technique to his looks, but the thing he was not blessed with was patience.

“We have to wait how long?” Your husband grumbles as you two wait in seemingly a line longer than the Nile itself all to take for your precious daughter to take a picture on Santa’s lap.

“I don’t know how long, Toru, it’s probably going to be 45 minutes at least,” and you swear he pouts more then your three year old does, “Santa is very busy this time of year, isn’t he, baby?” You ask your sweet daughter and Satomi only grins up the two of you, after she insisted on standing on her own.

“Very busy,” she repeats, and Satoru softens for a moment before he sees the long wait still ahead even as the three of you round another corner of Santa’s miniature workshop they had built in the middle of the mall, “Daddy gotta wait with us!”

“Why can’t Daddy go to the car and take a nap instead?” He grumbles, and you roll your eyes.

“Because daddy has to be in the picture with Santa, otherwise you’ll end up on the naughty list,” and his lips curl, “and not the good kind of naughty list,” you add in a whisper.

“Daddy has already been naughty!” Your daughter exclaims as Satoru stares down at her dumbstruck.

“What?”

“You ate my pancakes this morning,” she huffs, and you stifle a laugh at Satoru’s indignant expression

“I took one bite—“ but her glower said she did not care, “only three years old and already turning on me,” he mutters, “who carried her this entire time around the mall when she didn’t wanna walk? Doesn’t that earn me some points?”

“Well I think you’ve been a good boy, aside from the impatience,” and he’s sporting a glower similar to your daughter now, as you giggle between the two of them, “how about this? We’ll all have a treat when we go home if the two of you behave,” and you lean to whisper in Satoru’s ear, “and if you’re a really good boy, maybe I’ll sit in your lap tonight,”

And he perks up at your words, eyes raking over you, “And are you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?”

You kiss his cheek, warmth blooming where your lips touched, “I think you know,”

And a small blush settles over his cheeks, even as he grins shamelessly, whispering, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Definitely not,” your lips skim his outer ear, drawing a shiver from him.

“Daddy are you cold?” Your daughter notices, but you scoop her up in your arms.

“Daddy is running a little hot I think,” you chuckle, as you watch him try to adjust himself, his tight pants doing little to help his situation, “he’ll be fine, right?”

And he pouts again, “I’ll be fine,” he presses a kiss to his daughter’s forehead, “can’t say the same for your mom when we get home,”

Finally, after many brain cells lost and almost an hour of time, you reach the front of the line. “Santa” sits in his chair, looking quite jolly, despite having to deal with children all day, and he welcomes your daughter, who, for all of her spunk when dealing with her parents, now was hiding behind your leg.

And before you can say anything, Satoru is kneeling beside her, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He’s running his fingers through her soft white locks, “do you want daddy to go with you?”

And she considers it, lips in a cute pout that’s all too similar to her father’s, and then nods, “daddy, come with me,”

“Of course, baby,” and his fingers intertwine with her smaller ones as he takes her up. You hang back a little, your phone ready and poised to take pictures and a video, as you beam.

Santa holds your daughter as he asks her what she wants for Christmas. Your daughter says something half whispered that you can’t make out, but Satoru does, his cerulean eyes widening slightly before his lips curl into a grin.

And before you can ask what she said, you’re pulled in to take a picture. You three leave, Satomi in her father’s arms, nestled on his shoulder, peacefully sleeping, “what did she wish for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

He snorts, “Sworn to secrecy by Santa,”

“What’s that? A hidden confidentiality clause?” And he only smiles, as you roll your eyes, “pun definitely not intended,”

“I’ll tell you when we get home. Too many prying elves here,” he jerks his head at one of Santa’s elves sitting on a bench, clearly on their break with earbuds in either ear.

“I don’t think they care about a three year old’s wish,” and Satoru’s lips part and eyes comically big in mock offense.

“This is not any three year old — she’s the next Gojo heir, my successor, the fruit of my—“ and you glare, “our loins,”

“More like mine,” you cross your arms, tilting your head as you glance at your daughter, “you’re not the one that pushed her out,”

“Yes I’m the one who put her in there—“ and another scowl makes him clam up, smile bit back, “I’ll tell you when we get home, after I get you on my lap that is,” he adds with a grin.

“Oh yeah, I don’t know if you’ve been so nice though,” and his free arm slides around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead, curling his lips.

His voice low as he murmurs in your ear, “The real question is if you have been, baby.”

And finally, when Satomi is fast asleep in bed — arms and legs tangled in her blanket like a menace, you emerge from her bedroom, sighing, “finally down,” you collapse on the couch beside him, lying your head on his shoulder, as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close, “are you gonna finally gonna tell me what she wished for?”

And he hums, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “Sit in my lap, and see,” and you tilt your head, but you slide over his lap, sitting with your knees on either side of his waist, “good girl,”

“Satoru—” and he’s kissing you slowly, lips meeting yours in a languid kiss and you can taste the sweet hot chocolate on his lips he drank earlier.

“Been waiting to that all day,” he murmurs, gaze leaving a trail of heat as it slid over his body, and his hands follow, squeezing your hips and making you lurch against his hips, “definitely on the naughty list from that noise,” he grunts.

“Weren’t you supposed to tell me what Satomi wanted?” You mumble against his lips, as they meet again, before pressing kisses down your jaw and the hollow of your throat.

“Oh, we wanted the same thing,” and you raise an eyebrow, and he’s grinning up at you, “she wants a sibling,” you breath catches — both at his words and at his darkened gaze — and you can feel his erection press against you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, “wanna make a Christmas wish come true?”

And your heart flutters, “do you think we’re ready?” You had been talking about possibly having another kid, Satomi was getting older — ready to start school soon enough — and you wanted your daughter to have a sibling to grow up with.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his palm sliding across your cheek, as you lean into his touch, “I know we are — as long as you want it to,” and you can almost see it now — a little boy with Satoru’s blue eyes and your hair, nights spent up with the baby, days spent as a family, the baby sleeping on Satoru’s chest as you do Satomi’s hair, and another piece of your family complete.

So you kiss him, lips sliding gently against his, and you smile at him, “Luckily, you both knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas.”

✴︎ note: i don't celebrate christmas, but i got this cute fic idea in my head and i couldn't get it out lol. i love girl dad satoru.

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fanfiction #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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gureumz · 8 months

Text

wide open

rating: explicit

member: heeseung

premise: forced to marry a dictator king of a nearby kingdom, you're advised to shut up and take whatever king heeseung gives you and give him everything you have in return. in truth, you'd rather kill yourself than be married to this monster, but he has a way of changing people's minds

notes: fem!reader, dom!heeseung, royalty au, very slight angst, marriage of convenience/forced marriage, hate-ish sex, breeding, mentions of impregnation, use of pet names, unprotected sex, strangers to sort-of-lovers, mentions and descriptions of death and injury, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: sixth and final entry for my 1k follower special! this is the end for my two-month 1k event! i'm so thankful for the love this received and i'm excited to start my new series/anthology! i can't wait to write your other requests as well and bring you more stories you can enjoy!

it's making your stomach churn.

the way your father looks at you right now, as if he's sorry but not really. apologetic only because shouting in delight would hardly seem appropriate at a time like this.

you can practically see the sparkle in the East king's eyes.

"the decree says so," your father says with a sigh like he regrets to inform you of such news. you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from flinging the pewter cup filled with wine in front of you at him.

"the decree can say one thing but we can do exactly the opposite of it," you challenge, balling your fists in your lap. your father turns to you sharply.

"and then what, my love?" your father coos condescendingly. "race to see which one of our heads rolls off the gallows first when the new king of the West chops them off?"

you stare at your father, clad in his deep velvet garb, the lines on his forehead pronounced in the flickering firelight in his solar. you feel your whole face stiffen as you stare back at the spitting image of yourself, the exact source of the flame raging within you. you love your father and you know him. know him enough that it's no use arguing with him now. he would fling whatever words you had right back at you with double the force.

"you're lucky he didn't snatch you in the dead of night once he proclaimed victory," your father presses on. "you're lucky he's being diplomatic about it, issuing decrees so that all the four kingdoms are bonded legally to his whims."

"it hardly feels lucky being the sole maiden of royal blood fit enough to wed him," you spit back, turning away.

you hear your father lets out a breath and you can feel him walk away towards the large window that adorns the north side of his solar. you watch as he gazes out the glass panes, his back to you.

"he's a strapping young man, a talented general as he's proven, and truly the royal seed of his father before him," your father says, something unfamiliar in his voice. he turns back to you and you see, for the first time, the fear in his eyes.

"he turned on his own father, just as his father did with his father, took over that poor dead man's kingdom, and waged a war against his neighbors."

your father's voice trembles now.

"refusal would not only mean death, my rose," your father points out quietly, slipping in the endearment he so often used with you since you were a child.

"he would make sure you wished you were dead," he warns.

you swallow, letting his words sink in.

you think back on the past year, the months of hiding, the weeks spent banged up in the highest tower of your castle, the days of weeping as you waited for your father to come back, the minutes of terror as you were told the West king had emerged triumphant.

the second you saw your father, the Almighty Blessed King of the East, staggering through the palace gates, bloodied and broken.

that wretched tyrant from the West almost took your father away from you. giving yourself to him willingly hardly seems like the right move. but not doing so would mean a fate worse than death.

"is he really that terrible?" you ask, almost in a whisper.

your father walks up to where you're seated at his dining table. he reaches down and takes your hands in his calloused, war-scarred ones.

"i couldn't give you an answer to that if i tried," he explains. "i surrendered before i could get the chance to meet him."

"then how are you so ready to give away your only daughter, your only reminder of the woman you loved?" you implore, looking desperately into your father's eyes.

he shakes his head.

"this is how i want to remember you before you're whisked away into that cruel man's arms," your father says tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"feisty, with the zeal only your mother could pass on to you."

your eyes sting with tears at hearing your father mention his late queen.

your own mother feels like someone from a dream to you. she was there one moment and gone the next. much like yourself.

you let yourself cry silently, rising to let your father hold you in his arms.

---

the trip from the East to the West typically took a little over two weeks if no hiccups are encountered along the way. but you realized, merely two days in, that this whole marriage was cursed from the beginning.

it's as if the whole world conspired against this union, and you would have been grateful for it, but after days of running into problems (thieves and hunters and sudden thunderstorms and a pack of wild boars), the only thing you wanted was to be sheltered inside a warm castle room with a cup of spiced wine on your bedside.

so unbridled was your happiness when you heard a sudden shout from outside your carriage announcing your arrival at the gates of the West Kingdom castle. your two ladies-in-waiting riding with you had equally relieved faces, your hands immediately reaching out to grasp theirs.

"we're here, your grace," the younger of the two, yuna, whispers excitedly.

olivia, the older and more cynical one, swats at yuna's arm.

"don't sound so happy," olivia berates. "this is a dictator's castle we're entering."

yuna shrinks back in her seat and you reach over to clasp her hand reassuringly.

"i'm the only one fit enough to marry him," you remind. "he should know better than to lay a single finger on me."

olivia eyes you worriedly while yuna nods in agreement.

"i'll be alright," you say. whether it's to them or to yourself, you're not entirely sure.

the entirety of your royal party comes to a halt after what you felt was an hour's worth of treading on a steep incline and only then do you allow yourself to peek through the curtains of your carriage.

you gasp as you see the fog all around. you're aware that the West was the mountainous region of the four kingdoms but seeing the clouds form beneath the castle grounds made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"let's hope he doesn't throw me down the ravine," you mutter quietly. olivia and yuna exchange looks before giggling quietly.

you alight from your carriage a few more minutes later, the sudden light nearly blinding you. the sun is covered in dark clouds but the lack of any greenery to shield your field of view has you squinting to see in front of you.

"good morrow, your grace," a voice greets. you turn and see a smartly-dressed man approach, bowing deeply. he's adorned in the West king's court colors and it's then you notice the pin affixed on his chest.

"i'm lord jake, the royal chamberlain," he adds, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your skin. he straightens up and gestures behind him.

your eyes follow where he's pointing and you see a grand staircase leading up to the heavy wooden doors at the entrance to the castle.

"let me assist you to the throne room," jake offers, holding out his arm to you. you take it, fixing a firm grip on his bicep.

"the king is waiting," he adds.

---

you let yourself be pulled through the towering hallways, resisting the urge to gape at the lavishly adorned walls. portraits of Western monarchs, legendary shields and swords owned by said monarchs, heavy purple drapery. jake seems to understand, walking at a pace that hardly indicates that you're in any rush.

you turn behind you to see olivia and yuna following dutifully, your other ladies and servants following close behind, flanked by guards both from your party and from the West King's.

you turn back ahead of you, catching sight of the heavy doors to what you can only guess is the throne room.

"if i may speak freely, your grace." jake turns to you slightly. you return his gaze and nod.

"of course," you say.

"you need not be nervous," jake reassures. "i know of the tales you might have heard about our king. but i've been a companion of his since we were boys. he does not hurt those who are not deserving to be hurt."

you remain silent for a few seconds as you continue to approach the throne room. after a while, you respond to jake.

"i appreciate the words of comfort, my lord," you begin. "but what indication do you have that i'm nervous?"

jake smiles warmly at you just as you reach the doors.

"you've been squeezing my arm since you've arrived, your grace," jake points out.

a pause. your face breaks out into a smile and jake mirrors your expression, both of you allowing yourselves a moment to laugh.

the guards by the throne room doors heave them open and you stand, stiff but adorning your face with a look of resolve. jake pulls his arm away and steps in front of you. just as the doors fully open, jake bows to the throne and then to you.

"my most revered King of the West, this is Princess _________ of the East and her royal household," jake announces in a booming voice that startles you slightly.

"princess," jake continues, turning to you once more.

"i present to you, the Most Royal King of the West, King Heeseung,."

---

everything was a blur after that.

you do, however, remember the silver shock of hair atop the king's head. the deep purple of his doublet. the tight black breeches and black boots laced up around his ankles.

you could see King Heeseung's lips remain unmoving as you curtsied deeply in front of him. you remember the feeling of fear, humiliation, and embarrassment at having to bow in front of a cruel tyrant.

you remember the hint of a smile grace his mouth as you straighten up. you remember the sweat gathering on your palms.

you remember muffled words being exchanged between the king and jake. you couldn't make out what they were saying with the blood rushing in your ears. you remember curtsying one more time before jake takes your hand and leads you and your people out of the throne room.

now, hours later, seated in front of a mirror in an airy room somewhere on the north wing of the castle, you remember to breathe, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"your grace, are you alright?" olivia asks from behind you, her hand pausing mid-brush as she gathers your hair in her other hand.

you meet her eyes through the mirror and nod.

"yes," you answer. "just a little...tired."

"i would assume so," yuna speaks up from the other side of the room, her slender figure bent over the numerous chests containing your belongings.

"i asked and it turns out we traveled close to a month," yuna rambles. "a month! who takes a month to get from the East to the West?"

you smile at yuna's shrill voice, a comfort from the eerie silence that seems to surround the castle.

"how are you two liking it here so far?" you ask, addressing your two ladies. a palpable pause comes over the room as you wait for their response.

"it's...alright," olivia begins. "better than i expected. i pictured brutes and barbarians to litter the halls but that's a misjudgment on my part, your grace."

"everyone seems kind enough," yuna chimes in. "the king barely said a word so i'm not sure how to feel about him yet."

"better to hold your tongue when speaking of the King of the West, child," you lightly berate. "we don't know who's listening."

olivia and yuna both nod in understanding.

a knock from the door to your room interrupts your discussion.

"come in," you call out. you turn to see another one of your ladies poke their head in before straightening up and bowing.

"your grace," jen, a sprightly lady-in-waiting of yours addresses you.

"i've been informed that the king asks for your presence in his study," jen relays, hands folded in front of her.

time seems to stop as you hear these words. you feel olivia grip your shoulder and you hear a clatter of something as yuna drops it. jen avoids your eyes as the four of you soak in her words.

"well," you say after a moment. "i better make haste, then.

you meet olivia's eyes through the mirror once more and she smiles encouragingly.

---

you ask jen to accompany you this time to give olivia and yuna time for their own personal needs. jen readily agreed, not more than five paces behind you as you make your way to where you were told the king's study is.

the castle is bathed in late afternoon light, a gentle breeze fluttering through the hallways. hardly any noise can be heard save for the occasional footsteps of servants and soft chatter from some of the rooms. your heart hammering against your chest is the only thing that fills your ears constantly.

"this is it, right?" you turn to ask jen. she nods as you two stop in front of an intricately carved door with a heavy golden stag knocker.

"you may take your leave," you tell jen.

"your grace?" jen asks, voice meek. "should i not wait for you out here?"

you shake your head. "i have a feeling neither of us knows how long the king will keep me in there."

jen opens her mouth as if to say something more but she stops, sighing. she nods and bows to you before starting down the hallway.

you turn away from jen's disappearing form, hand grasping at the stag knocker. you pound the heavy metal against the door three times before stepping back, waiting to be let in.

"enter," comes a voice from inside.

you swallow, reaching for the door handle. you give it a turn, the door easily swinging inward. you step through the gap, pressing your lips in a thin line as you anticipate what you might see.

the study is a respectable size, with bookcases adorning nearly every wall. a fireplace crackles with flames at the far left end of the room and a large desk rests in the middle of it all.

hunched over a stack of parchment is King Heeseung himself, a quill twirling lazily between his fingers.

your eyes meet and the king straightens in his seat.

"your grace—"

you pause, having both said the same thing at the same time. to your surprise, King Heeseung offers a smile. not knowing what else to do, you force an uneasy smile back.

"sit with me, my lady," he says, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. you gather your skirts and perch yourself at the very edge of the seat.

no one speaks for what feels like an eternity. the king has paused in his perusing of the parchment in front of him and you've busied yourself with staring at your hands resting on your lap.

"there will be a welcome banquet tonight," King Heeseung's voice cuts through the silence.

"to celebrate your arrival," he continues.

you dip your head low.

"you have my gratitude, your grace," you say mechanically.

King Heeseung clears his throat. "i also arranged for the wedding feast to take place a week from now."

you allow yourself to gaze upon the King of the West, your eyebrows pinching together.

the king sees your expression and pauses.

"but if you wish to either hasten or push back the ceremony, then i'll take it into consideration," King Heeseung hurriedly adds, his sharp eyes rounding into a softer form.

you realize that sitting here, eye level with the king, that he's merely a man like any other. a man who smiles and startles and laughs.

your mind flashes back to your father's beaten and bruised face. your expression falls.

"no, your grace. a week from now is fine," you concede.

a long stretch of silence follows. you avert your eyes to the window to your right, gazing at the vibrant sky painted in the colors of the sunset.

"heeseung," comes the king's voice. you turn to him, a questioning look on your face.

"you can call me heeseung," he clarifies.

your face must have been of utter confusion because the king smiles again.

"we are to be wed, are we not? i would assume that you'd prefer a much more relaxed method of addressing each other." heeseung leans back in his plush seat, awaiting a response.

"of course," you agree. "and you may address me however you wish."

"my betrothed."

the two words roll smoothly off heeseung's tongue and a strange tug pulls at your chest. you nod silently as if to grant permission.

heeseung clears his throat again, pushing himself off his chair. you rise as well but you make no move to look at his face.

you see from the corner of your eye his hand reaching out to you.

"come. the banquet should be starting soon."

you shakily place your hand in his and he gently wraps his fingers around yours.

"after you, my dear betrothed," he says, motioning towards the door.

---

it turns out, a week flies by extremely fast.

you've managed to meet all of the people of importance in heeseung's court in that time, memorizing names and faces and feasting with a number of them.

heeseung hovers around, greeting you as you go about your day but ultimately keeping his distance. you wonder if you should be doing more to prepare for your wedding but you don't dare question any of heeseung's or his council's plans.

in a blink of an eye, the week is over and you're standing in the throne room, draped in your finest garments, practically glittering from head to toe with the jewelry you've brought from home.

heeseung stands tall and regal beside you, his hair perfectly done and his royal regalia adorning his broad frame. strangely enough, his face is what you anchor on for most of the ceremony—a blur of vows and prayers and oaths and finally, a restrained brush of lips to make things official.

the feast may as well have not happened with how blurry your memory of it is. you sat at the high table, watching the festivities but not really seeing anything.

that is, until a particular loud courtier knocks over a chair, bringing down plates and utensils as collateral damage in his drunken state. the noise jars you for a moment but heeseung lays a warm hand on yours to steady you.

and now, sitting on the edge of your bed, stripped down to your undergarments by your reluctant ladies, you shiver at the thought of what your wedding night may bring.

you've heard stories from your ladies and you've been taught enough by the tutors you've had over the years. but to lay with a man such as heeseung, it chills you down to the bone. would he hurt you? would he demand things from you? perhaps kill you?

you shake your head. it would do no good for him to kill you now. you're both in dire need of heirs for your respective domains, him especially now that he's deposited himself as the supreme ruler of all the kingdoms in your land. and even without taking children into consideration, would he really drive in his image as a tyrant? slaying his wife on their wedding night?

your thoughts are dissolved when you hear a knock come from the door. a second later, heeseung walks in, his cape and gloves amiss, and so are the tightly-laced hunting boots, leaving him in his doublet and breeches, wool boots covering his feet.

he almost looks...nervous.

"my b—"

heeseung pauses, taking in a sharp breath.

"my wife."

your head spins as heeseung says these words. you can physically feel the color draining from your face. when heeseung says it like that, it makes it more real, your fate looming over you like an impregnable fortress caging you in.

"yes, your grace?" you respond, trying to sound composed amidst your anxiety.

heeseung studies you for a second before sighing. he tugs his boots off, undoing his doublet right after. he shrugs the garment off, leaving him bare from the waist up. you gasp softly, abruptly turning away.

"you need not address me like that, remember?" heeseung reminds, trudging carefully before coming to a stop in front of you.

he reaches a hand out, attempting to hold a side of your face but you flinch, your whole body lurching at the feeling of his skin against yours.

your heart pounds as you quickly realize the fault in what you just did. you peer up at heeseung, eyes shaking with fear.

you expected anger, annoyance, or even confusion.

but all you see is a pair of despondent eyes looking down at you.

"why are you afraid? why do you fear me?" heeseung asks, voice quiet, defeated.

your insides churn as you try to find the right words. in a moment, the whole ordeal comes crashing down on you, the day's events flashing in your mind, a reminder that this is your life now. you're married to a dictator for the rest of your days.

"shouldn't i be?" you reply, voice stony. "i'd be a fool to not be scared of someone who murdered their own father and waged a war against the entire world."

heeseung remains silent. he heaves a sigh, turning away from you.

"it seems as if it was a mistake to ask for your hand in marriage," heeseung says.

a flicker sparks inside you.

"you didn't ask!" you cry out, voice accusatory. you stand, pulling yourself to your full height. this outrage has sprung from nowhere, seized you fully, summoning all the anger within you.

"you commanded me here, you took me away from my family, my home! i came all the way here to marry an evil man and he suddenly decides that marrying me was a mistake?"

"i gave up everything i had to fulfill a duty i was called to, that you called me to," you continue, placing yourself right in front of heeseung.

"i need you to prove to me that all this is worth it. that i did not come here to be some poor slave to a tyrant! show me and prove me wrong that you're not just some monster that nearly killed my father!"

you feel the air knocked out of you as a pair of lips press against your own. you cry out in surprise but something snaps within you, the final branch needed to let the fire catch and spread.

heeseung is kissing you and you're kissing him, your hands clawing at any part of him you could reach. his own fingers tug at your chemise, pulling it down your shoulders until it slips off your body completely.

"you're sick, forcing yourself on your wife like this," you pant against heeseung's mouth. he undoes his breeches, letting them fall.

"my wife is free to leave if she pleases," heeseung retaliates, kicking off the last of his clothes.

both of you are stark naked now.

you stand there, breathing heavily as you look into each other's eyes.

"your wife will not leave until you've bedded her and put an heir in her womb," you seethe. "that's all she came here for, after all."

heeseung grunts lowly, attacking your lips once more. he shoves you down on the bed, caging you in easily with his firm body. he runs his hands up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling at every piece of flesh he can dig his fingers into. you moan and squirm under his touch, an ache growing between your legs.

"you'll give me as many heirs as i wish," heeseung says as he kisses his way down to your neck. he suckles on a spot just beneath your jaw and the sound of defiance that you originally wanted to let out is caught in your throat.

"of course, so they can usurp you when it's your time," you say through your teeth.

heeseung says nothing, only looks at you, his face pulled down in an angry frown.

"listen here, darling," heeseung commands, voice dipping even lower. he pulls you by your thighs to the edge of the bed, pushing your legs open.

he glances down and you stare at his face as it turns into a look of intrigue, his eyes transfixed on your core.

you're soaking wet, clenching around nothing as your husband continues to survey what's between your legs. he looks back up at you, a hand reaching over to grasp your jaw in one large hand.

"my father was a madman and so was his father before him," heeseung begins and you feel something prod at your entrance. you gasp as half of him is pushed in with a single swivel of heeseung's hips.

"maybe i'll turn out to be one too, but right now, all i did was clean up the mess he made," heeseung continues, fully burying himself inside you. your legs tremble at the painful stretch and all you want is to hide your face away in the sheets but heeseung's firm grip on your face won't let you.

"he started this war," heeseung says accusingly. he draws back, allowing you momentary relief before thrusting back in, a half cry, half moan escaping you.

"yeah, my sweet?" heeseung pauses to address you momentarily, his eyes dark and evidently hungry.

"feel good?"

he doesn't wait for an answer as he lets go of your face in favor of holding your hips tightly between his hands. heeseung sets up a ruthless pace, mouth hanging open as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

you grit your teeth and refuse to look away yourself, gazing upon the face of what might be another in a line of mad kings. your husband, half of who you are now, half of what your children will be.

the thought sickens you to your stomach.

but the delicious fill of his cock deep in you has you quivering with want, breathless with desire. if this is how good it feels to fuck a mad king, then maybe you are the perfect maiden to wed him.

well, not so much a maiden now that he's buried in you to the hilt, one of his hands grabbing at your breast.

his words 'he started this war' echo in your brain, but a shift of heeseung's hips has your eyes rolling back in your head, that thought forgotten momentarily.

"come on my sweet, look at me," heeseung pleads gently. he leans down, nearly flattening his form over your own. he continues to fuck you, thursts shallow in this new position

you hook your own arms around heeseung's neck, meeting his eyes.

"you don't fear me, do you?" heeseung asks laboriously through heavy breaths. "you never did."

you withhold an answer, leaning in to press your lips roughly against heeseung's instead. he growls low in his chest, his hips moving even faster than they already were.

you keep your mouths together, tongues lapping over every expanse of each other. a shiver runs through you as you feel the friction against your core increase, turning rougher and rougher as heeseung seems to lose himself in you.

you pull away, running your fingers through the hair on the back of heeseung's head. you tighten your grip on the strands and heeseung hisses.

"no," you finally answer. "i'm not scared of you so fuck me like you mean it."

the world seems to give out from all around you as the last words escape you, your hips pinned down painfully against the bed. your legs quiver as you feel heeseung pound into you, faster, rougher, harder. you let a sob rip out of you, your whole body seizing as your release slams down on you.

heeseung looks at you and only you, eyes wide and ravenous.

you clench around heeseung and he collapses over you, hands braced on either side of your head, his face scrunched up in pleasure as you feel him throb deep in you. you feel his thick seed warm up your walls and you gasp softly, your body finally relaxing.

you lay there, weak and unmoving, as heeseung pulls out and rolls off you. he comes to rest on one side of you, his hair tickling your shoulder. without another word, heeseung pushes himself up and retrieves his discarded breeches off the floor.

your heart sinks as you think that he's about to leave. your throat tightens, the thought of being used just like that, despite being his wife, his queen, repulsing you so badly.

but heeseung doesn't walk out the door. he loosely strings up his breeches and walks over to the vanity on the other side of the room. you failed to notice when you came in the first time the bowl of water and washcloth resting beside it.

heeseung wets the cloth, wringing it momentarily before walking back over to you. you've propped yourself on your elbows now, watching his every move.

"sit up, my sweet," heeseung implores gently, seating himself beside you.

you oblige, wincing at the slight sting between your legs as you shift into a more comfortable position. heeseung starts with your face, smoothing over your cheeks with the cloth, the cooled water bringing out a sigh of relief.

he moves to wipe at your neck, then your chest. he peers down at you, laying a gentle hand on your thigh.

"let me clean down there too," heeseung says. you nod, feeling vulnerable under his watch. you part your sore thighs, letting heeseung swipe away at the stickiness.

heeseung finishes and returns the washcloth to the bowl. he picks your chemise up on the way back to you, placing it in your hands. you wordlessly stand, pulling the thin fabric over you, overtly aware of heeseung watching you from where he sits on the bed.

you turn back to him and he's gazing up at you, expression softer than all of the other times. he reaches a hand out shakily, as if hesitant, and you take it, stepping between his parted knees.

he places his hands on our lower back as if to cradle you. before you could stop yourself, you let your hand smooth back some of his silvery locks of hair.

"he—my father—sent those decrees of war out when he realized i was on to him," heeseung mumbles.

you nod gently, signaling him to go on.

"i found out he'd been plotting this war for years right under my nose. i was brought up to command my father's army but i never knew it was for this," he continues.

"i begged him to stop but you can't reason with someone mad," heeseung says, voice shaking.

looking at him now, eyes so doe-like and piercing straight through your own, you realize that underneath what you called a tyrant, he was just a boy willing his father to do right.

"i had to end it one way or another," heeseung continues, head bowing.

you pull him to you, cradling him against your chest. you feel heeseng's arms tighten around your torso.

"but by the time i had dealt the final blow, it was too late. the decrees were sent and i had no choice but to fight the war he left me with."

your chest constricts.

"why not just take the decrees back, admit surrender?" you ask quietly. heeseung looks up at you and you're struck by how handsome he looks when he's not acting like the king he is.

soft lips, the delicate turn of his nose, fluttering eyelashes.

"i was already a kinslayer and a kingslayer. i couldn't lose everything after that," heeseung whispers, brows pinched together as if begging you to believe him.

a flurry of emotions course through you. despite this, you smile apologetically.

you bend down slightly, placing a gentle kiss on heeseung's forehead.

"i don't fear you," you whisper against his skin. you feel him deflate beneath your touch.

"but there is so much more i need to understand about you, husband."

heeseung pulls away and nods. he takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles.

"and i'll try my hardest to make you understand. i don't expect forgiveness, just your open heart and open eyes to see who i really am."

you afford yourself another smile. you lean down once more, kissing heeseung softly.

"they're wide open, my King."

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #w: heeseung

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verysium · 5 months

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BLUE LOCK REVERSE ICKS 😳

😭 i read this as blue lock icks and was about to drag them all through the dirt with a brutally honest character review. but anyways, reverse icks is still a good idea, so here you go anon:

rin has abandonment issues. now before u come for me, let me explain. ever since sae left him, he's been hesitant to let anyone back into his heart, and that's why you mean so much to him. his hand automatically reaches for yours in the crowd so you don't get separated. when he has nightmares and dreams of you leaving, he wakes up, patting frantically on your side of the bed until he finds your body and relaxes. hugs you as if he'll never let go and buries his face into the crook of your neck and just whispers "thank fucking god." and you can see his chin wobbling as he struggles so hard not to cry, but deep down you know he's a very sensitive soul and you're quite literally his whole world.

sae's entire character is a reverse ick. have you not seen that man? he is beautiful. but i'll give u a little scenario: sae attends a charity gala, and you're invited as his plus one. you're busy getting ready in the bathroom, and he just leans against the doorframe, breath hitching when he sees you all dolled up in your fancy dress. coughs to hide his blush when you turn around and ask him for help. creeps behind you silently, his hot breath grazing your nape as his deft fingers reach for your zipper. his hands are callused and gentle when they clasp the back of your necklace (the one he bought for you), and the cold metal contrasts with the warmth of his hands on your shoulders. his heart is beating so fast that his fingers tremble and struggle with his tie, so you fix it for him but when your gaze travels back up his face, you catch him staring down at you, his eyes filled with an intense emotion. your gesture of kindness reminds him of his mother and how he hasn't gone back home in ages and how blessed he is by the gods to have you in his life.

kaiser does the hair tuck thing where he kisses a strand of your hair and smooths it behind your ear. he tries so hard to be a suave and charming gentleman, but honestly he's just an awkward loser. screams like a girl when you watch horror movies together and hugs you so tightly you think your lungs might burst. but then he gradually quiets down and falls asleep in your arms, and you think maybe he's not so bad. he canonically is not a morning person, so when he wakes up, he has the homeless cut 2.0 with the wild bed head and groggy facial expression. also has a weird habit of walking around the house naked. in any other situation, you would've yelled at him to put some clothes on, but his physique was looking extra good today, and you sort of got distracted. he definitely noticed and not-so-subtly flexed his biceps. always tries to make you laugh even though his pick-up lines are terrible and he can't tell a good joke to save his life.

nagi sometimes wakes up before you and pulls your body closer to him. on most occasions though, it's you who wakes up before him and he drags you back to bed. he hates it when you work late and hovers above you like a phantom, waiting for you to finally finish and go cuddle with him. if it gets to the point where you fall asleep while working, he will tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight. the next morning, you find all your work finished, albeit in poor handwriting. in all honesty, nagi is a genius, and he tries hard for you and only you. if any other person asked them to finish their work, he would've flat-out rejected them.

isagi is good with children but often at his own expense. unsuccessfully tries to make a baby laugh but ends up getting distracted and slamming face first into a telephone pole. now that made the baby start giggling, and he just smiled through tears with a red bump on his forehead, insisting that he was alright and didn't just knock his two front teeth loose. whenever he babysits your siblings/cousins, he ends up doing all the grueling work like changing diapers, taking out the trash, cleaning up after the gremlins. and yet the children will still favor you and not him. tries to act like he's not heartbroken but boy did that sting a little too much.

barou buys you flowers. has a big stupid blush on his big stupid face and refuses to admit that his heart skips a beat every time you look at him. does that thing where he looks the opposite way to pretend like he's not interested before shoving a bouquet into your hands. he's also very protective. holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk so you don't get run over. holds the door open for you every time. tried to make those origami hearts for you, but his fingers are thick and stubborn, and he stayed up all night in a fit of rage because he's not used to delicate work like this. you ended up getting a lopsided piece of crumpled paper that barou insisted was a heart, and you agreed because why would you hurt his feelings?

chigiri knows how to braid your hair. makes you sit in front of the mirror while his slender fingers carefully brush the soft strands. he can get complex too. dutch braids. french braids. fishtail braids. also does that cheesy couple tradition where he braids a piece of his own hair with yours as a symbol of love. most people don't know this, but he's actually a crackhead. sometimes when you're walking down the street, he'll do impersonations of the various people he sees. the old lady at the laundromat. the two aunties at the flower shop. the fisherman near the boardwalk. he even imitated your dad once, and you nearly lost it. he's too funny guys, but you need a sophisticated sense of humor to understand him.

and that's about it. sorry this was so short anon, but my brain is dessiccated this week.

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ma1dita · 27 days

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My dearest sweetest moony

I, a daughter of Hypnos, just want to hold Luke close and let him sleep the best sleep he has ever had in his life, don't let Kronos talk to him or get close to my boy

1, a daughter of Hypnos, just want to help the campers sleep, help all of those kids get their desired rest

Please let this daughter of Hypnos help her children (the campers) and her husband (Luke)

🐥

(i wrote this request and another one but I didn’t put the 🐥 on them, should I send them to you again or not? Sorry about that darling, love ya, and again I’m really sorry for the inconvenience)

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x hypnos!reader

wc: 756

—

Honestly, Luke was starting to feel bad.

Every free moment he gets to spend with you, he’s been falling asleep. He fell asleep during your lunch picnic last week, sprawled out on the red and white checkered blanket—cheek against your lap as you read a book, on your shoulder at the bonfire last night even with Percy and Grover trying to screech out the lyrics to ‘Unwritten’, and even now as you brush through his curls as you read all of cabin 11 a bedtime story.

Luke knows that dating a daughter of Hypnos has some advantages for sure—you get to stay in the bunk next to his since you don’t have your own cabin, your dad blesses him with nice dreams for taking care of you, and everyone quiets down easier for the night as you project images of sheep for them to fall asleep to. But as he rubs his eyes to the sound of your calming voice, he reckons he’d punch the shit out of a sheep if another misty image of one decides to trot near the air of his bunk. You’re nestled against his arm, looking ethereal with moonlight shining against your cheekbones as you watch his eyelashes flutter slowly from the weight of his eyelids.

“You need to stop doing that, my dream girl.”

“Hmm?” you whisper, voice breathy like cool air. Yawning, you press your cheek against his bicep with a smile.

“Stop putting me to sleep. Wanna spend time with you,” he mumbles, trying to not wake the other campers.

“M’not doing anything, Lu. Besides, you’re cute when you’re asleep,” you chuckle, and his arms wrap around you tighter as his hands dip into his pajama pants you stole from his dresser.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” he pouts, reaching to tickle the skin that peeks out from under your shirt and you giggle. The sound of it is loud enough to echo across the cabin, but something extra must have been in your voice tonight because not a single camper stirs.

In a room full of people, the two of you share a moment that’s just for the both of you, watching each other quietly with soft loving smiles. Moving closer to his face, your lips press kisses into the lines that crease his forehead, the scar running down his cheek, the tip of his nose, and finally the plump of his pouting lips. He pulls you in deeper, smiling softly against your kiss that’s ever so gentle until he’s drifting off…

You don’t take offense to it though. Sleep is your gift bestowed to you by your godrent, and to share that with your love makes it the best gift of all.

—

Luke jolts up the next morning after his nose dips into his bowl of cereal. The nymphs and younger campers all chatter and giggle around you two as he grumbles, shoving another mouthful of now soggy Frosted Flakes into his mouth. You smile, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, taking a bite of your waffle.

“You okay, baby?”

He huffs, kissing the back of your hand before you stand up to go and grab napkins. Annabeth rolls her eyes from across the table, which makes Luke toss a chunk of banana at her.

“What?”

“You’re too dramatic for your own good, Luke,” she sighs, stirring her iced coffee with a straw. She looks at him exasperatedly when he looks more confused by her statement, even if it’s the truth.

“I just feel like a bad boyfriend. Always falling asleep on her. Never do that with anyone else, and sometimes I think she does it on purpose…” he says, leaning against his palm.

“It’s the oxytocin,” Annabeth says, and Luke looks at her blankly, “Your brain releases oxytocin around people you love, and as a result you feel safe and at ease—which is why you keep falling asleep around her. So stop blaming your girlfriend!” She shakes her head like the old soul she is, getting up to clear her tray and leave Luke to his nonsense. You return to the table with a handful of napkins and a grin that instantly brightens his mood.

Rubbing at his eyes, he can see you more clearly and to your surprise, Luke pulls you by the chin for a kiss as he says thank you.

“What’s that for? Can’t be because of the napkins,” you giggle, and a dopey smile crosses his face.

“Because I love you, my dream girl. That’s all.”

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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andy-clutterbuck · 1 year

Photo

#HE #Andrew Lincoln #*#andygifs #can you make one of these at Build A Bear?#EYE CRINKLES 💕💞#H A N D S #his N E C K #oh...there's bram stoker knocking again #the nest of curls at the base of his neck #that bottom lip is illegal #im calling the UN #the most beautiful big ol forehead #hey hey nice eyeballs #i hope amc's video quality improves with the spinoff #lol i got jokes #bless all the lines on your face they're beautiful and sacred

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zephyrrr101 · 1 month

Text

Not like her

Pairing: Daemon x niece reader

Warning: Targcest/incest, DUBCON?, size kink and breeding kink light, mention of somnophilia, slight manipulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, first intercourse, sweet Daemon, Daemon being a soft uncle hubby.(Because I simp) All ASOIAF warnings. MINOR DNI (but do with hungry bitches care?) also not proof read. High Valyrian translation might or not be wrong.

You looked around the Throne Room which had now was filled with hoards of people, All the nobles have made there way to King’s Landing to attend your sider sister, Rhaenyra’s wedding to your cousin Ser Laenor Velaryon. It was a match made out of convenience, you had known that.

Father had not told you much, nor had your maids and lady companions, all having been sworn to silence by your father. But it didn’t take much for news to not get to your ears. Red Keep was never able to keep gossips.

Apparently, Rhaenyra had been seen beyond the walls of Rad Keep during hour of wolf with someone in unseemly situations. There were no proofs that anyone had, but it had been enough for your father to set this betrothal to push the rumours away.

They weren’t rumours.

It was your sister’s sworn shield who had been the man who Rheernyra had shared her bad with that night. She had spoke to you of this a week after, since you broth were always close, your mother’s death bringing you even closer. You did not mind. Several lords went around having bastards, women too laid with men before marriages, you knew of it, why must Rhaenyra be kept from something she wanted But your sombre mood was not for your sister’s situation. Rhaenyra was strong and she welcomed things in her life with courage, even this marriage. Your issue was that your father, after he had talked with Rhaenyra, had a conversation with you too. You will be wed by the next year to a man of your father’s choosing. He did not seem to want another one of his daughters going and finding trouble.

You had hoped your father would give you the same liberty of choosing your husband that was given to Rhaenyra. You would not had minded choosing, you weren’t picky. You were a second daughter, getting many in a good family was always supposed to be your job. But you would have rather preferred if you could have a little bit of choice in it.

Thank you, Rhaenyra, I love you. But you fucked it up for me, Fuck you.

“Something on your mind, sweet niece?” You turned to Daemon who sat on your right. You were given the seat beside the Queen Alicent, not your preferable place, things between you and Alicent were awkward. She was your sister’s friend turned step-mother. You didn’t talk much, it was weird.

You sighed, turning to your uncle, who had come back from his trip to Stepstones a few days back. He had proven is determination when it came to the barren land. He had won it and now with your father’s blessings looked after the protection of Westros from there, visiting the place some times. “Father is setting up my betrothal.”

Daemon frowned, you could tell he was not happy, Daemon had been a constant in your and Rhaenyra’s life even of he was banished half of the time, more to you. While Rhaenyra had your father, you had your uncle. “Who?”

“I cannot say,” You fiddled with your cup of wine, you had lost your focus, drifting off in solace of solitude. “Father has not told me. But he says I will be wed by this time next year.”

Daemon did not reply. And you turned your attention to middle of room, Rhaenyra and Laenor had started to dance. You tipped your cup up, finishing your wine in one go you did not notice anything after that.

You did not notice how Daemon’s hand clenched around his cup as he glared at anything he could see, how his lilac eyes would fall over you, locking at your distressed race, how he counted each line that marred your forehead, how your tongue had slipped out of your mouth to catch the stray drop of wine and how licked it, your red tinged tongue moving over your lips wetting them. And you certainly did not notice the way he gripped Dark Sister’s pommel when Ser Harwin had come to ask you for a dance and you had agreed, leaving with the large dark haired knight.

No you did not.

You danced with other lords but again found Your way to Ser Harwin, or he did to you.

He spoke something to you, learned down so only you could hear him, Daemon could only imagine how he would be taking in your scent of jasmines, such a calming fragrance.

You nod.

He could not hear you from the distance but he had been around you for a lot longer to imagine how sweet your laughter must be in Strong knight’s ears.

This was it.

Daemon slammed his cup on the table, gathering attention of a few people around him and walked away, his brother’s cautioned words, blurred in his ears.

Ser Harwin was telling you about his tales of City Watch, how he sometimes sees the most hilarious things. Your favourite being the one where a certain lord was hit and thrown out of a pleasure house by one the workers and Ser Harwin had found him crying drunk with a bruised cheek. You had not noticed Daemon’s presence until he asked Ser Harwin if he could have a dance with you.

Who was he to say no to a seasoned warrior and dragon rider who could burn him to ashes if declined what he wanted.

“Ziry issa?” Is it him? Daemon asked you, you had well spotted the frown on his face and anger that was flowing in his lilac eyes. Something you could not comprehend.

“Skoros?” What?

Daemon takes your hand his, you let him guide to where ever he wants to, which happens to the farthest part of the dancing area, lesser people are here and you understand that whatever it must be that he wants to speak of he doesn’t want other to hear.

“Harwin,” He looks away from you and you follow his eyes, finding them on your father. It takes a moment for you to realise what he is asking.

“gimin daor,” I don’t know. You sighed. “It doesn’t matter does it, kepus? I must trust Father in his choice.”

“Your father’s choice?” He whispered, you could feel his breath tickling on your neck. “Look at this choice of his. Laenor is a good man but he will bore your sister senseless. And let us not forget his tastes.”

“It’s not that I don’t wish to marry, kepus,” You mutter, you suddenly found his doublet more interesting than the music or the dance. “But...”

Daemon hummed, his hand softly drew circles on the small of you back, you felt a shiver going through you.

“I understand politics but... I’d rather not be used as a pawn for gain without my say. At least without me knowing who I will be tied to for my whole life. I love my father, I really do,” you sighed, your eyes fell on your father and Alicent sitting beside him in a green dress. This wedding looked more like a disaster. “Look how miserable Alicent is. I do not wish to be another Alicent, kepus.”

Daemon listened to every word that left your mouth keenly. He embedded all of them in his very soul. His niece, his sweet and young niece who had been nothing but kind to him despite everything he might have one that could have hurt her. Even when his brother had sent him away for giving a moniker to his dead nephew all those years before. She had come to say good bye to him. Told him how she did not care for a boy who she didn’t even knew and wished him a safe journey, His little doll who always came to him when she didn’t like the braids her maid would put in her hair and have him redo everything.

I do not wish to be another Alicent, kepus.

And he imagined you, sitting beside some very aged lord, with life span of no long than a few years, who didn’t seem to be caring about anything but the cup of wine in his hands, children standing beside you and one in your hands, all while you looked sullen.

No. He couldn’t let it happen, Not when he knew how marriages like that ended up being.

He smiled at you, one his hand grabbing yours and other one caressing the soft skin of your cheeks, He looked at you with such intensity, with such fondness that you couldn’t help but feet the heat crawling up your neck.

“You won’t end up like her.” He told you and you knew better than anyone that his words were not hollow. It was an unsaid promise.

The wedding did turn out to be a disaster. Rhaenyra’s sworn shield had murdered Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, an event which had led to a rushed marriage between Rhaenyra and Laenor. As soon as the chaos erupted, your uncle had pulled you away towards the doors of the hall since you both were closer to it than the royal table.

The stress had caused your father to collapse and another thing had come to light some disease was eating him alive and now he had lost his arm.

In all, the day had been a like riding a wild dragon.

From what you could tell it was past midnight. And you could think of nothing better than trying to put yourself to sleep. It hadn’t taken much too. As your head hit the pillow and darkness engulfed you.

You had been sleeping deeply and peacefully. The tiring and stressed moments of the wedding had lulled you like an infant after having drunk a tummy full of milk.

You could not understand what it was that had woken you up. You felt hot. Surely it wasn’t winter and days in King’s Landing were hot sometimes but not so much to cause her such bother. Though it was not enough to cause you to get out of your sleepy reverie.

You let out a whine when you felt something moving over you leg and your shoulder, making you pull your leg away and shake your shoulder to put whatever was causing you discomfort away. The point between your legs felt wet, making you a bit worried about your moon blood but you were too far gone in sleep to care.

It was the wine you had drank like water before going to sleep. Curse the fucking thing.

It was a sound, something like a chimes that hit each other when wind flowed, that made you snap out of our daze a little bit. You forced you eyes your to open as much as they could which wasn’t a lot. You were drunk and sleepy. But you could recognise that voice and figure even in your blurred sight.

“Kepus?”

Daemon smiles at you. There were very few people who had seen him really smile genuinely. You were one of them. But this smile was different. There was something different about it. You couldn’t comprehend it.

Daemon hushed you, his hand softly laying you back again, It was then when you slowly started to come to sense. He was hovering over you and you felt his other hand between your legs, right on your...

“Kepus, what are you doing?” You almost shrieked, understanding what was going on, “Kepus, what—"

“Be quiet, sweet girl,” Daemon whispered, and leaned down, his lips falling on your cheeks, so, so close to your lips. His fingers circling your cunny, a place that was not supposed to be bare to anyone but your husband. “You didn’t want to be a pawn, right?”

“But-but Daemon—” whatever you were thinking of saying was long forgotten when you felt his his finger entering you, your breath hitched at the foreign sensation. “We shouldn’t.” You whispered, you weren’t sure if you had spoken it or if it was in your mind only.

“And why?” His voice low, you felt as if you were speaking of some centuries old secret with him. “I promised you that I wouldn’t let you be married just like this. I will keep my promise, sweet niece.”

“Daemon,” you whispered, your denial was dying on your lips with him adding another finger in you, his thumb rolling around your nub and his lips on your neck. He hummed and those were the sweetest vibration you had ever felt on your skin, a shiver passing from the junction of your neck and shoulder to your core. Some cold wind had not caused this. This you know. It was him, your kepus who did this.

Your hands went to his shoulders, bare shoulders, he did not have his tunic on. Your skin touching his warm one. He was always warm. Like a dragon. “Please,” you gasped feeling his fingers go deep in you and you squeezed his shoulders.

His fingers moved faster in you, his teeth biting at your ear, “Is this what you are asking, sweetling?”

If only you knew what you wanted. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to let go of this feeling. “Yes-fuck-kepus!” You moaned feeling his fingers curl in you. And then another on being added.

“Don’t worry,” Daemon kissed your forehead, and you realised how really small you were in front of his tall stature. Even laying he could easily reach you forehead when his fingers were far down. “Kepus will take care of. Always.”

You knew he would. Mayhap, it was that fact that you had not called out for someone.

You felt your lower abdomen clenched, you weren’t sure it was. It felt as if someone was pulling at it but from inside. And somehow it felt good too. “Kepus, Kepus, there...”

“I know, sweet girl,” his fingers moved in you even more faster, and that was all you could feel. “Let go. Just let go.”

His thumb softly pressed on your nub and you gasped.

Something washed over you, something ecstatic. You felt free. Just like when you were on dragon back.

You panted, feeling as if you were knocked out of breath. Maybe you were. You look at Daemon, as he softly pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in his mouth, you couldn’t help the heat on your face when you remembered that it was your arousal that he was happily sucking off his fingers.

You looked at him in daze, everything seemed hazy for a few moments. Daemon leaned over you, his knuckles brushing your cheeks before his lips dropped on yours.

They were surprisingly soft, you had always imagined him having a hard touch but here he was, touching you as if you were made of glass, that you would break at the slight wrong caress. You felt his tongue on your lips, and you opened, letting his soft muscle of his mouth melt into yours.

You let him do what he wished to for some moments, unaware of what you were supposed to do but it didn’t take you long to catch up and you moved your tongue against his, you felt losing breath by every moment though nothing seemed to matter. It was heaven where Daemon was taking you. And you did not want to fall down from there.

“Fuck!” You heard Daemon curse as he parted from you, and his lips fell on your jaw and something hard rubbing your core. Your hips bucked up, unconsciously and you moaned. “Stop doing that, sweet girl,” Daemon spoke, his lips were moving down and down from your jaw to your neck, his hands pushing the sleeves of your slip down, his mouth leaving wet trails between your breast.

“kepus,” you were too lost. Your uncle looked like one of those Gods of Old Valyria. So beautiful, his burnt skin like stars on the dark sky. Your hands wrapped around his arms, feeling his full strong muscles, your finger traced the healed wounds, you felt your inside twist and turn. “kepus,”

Daemon pulled away, his eyes were dark, almost pitch black, he was sat between your legs. When did that happen you weren’t aware. You chest heaved as you took each breath greedily and watched his hands moving to his breeches’ laces, pulling them and he shed off them off. You eyes were on him, whole of him and your breath hitched.

So lost in the sight of him you didn’t know when he came back and kissed you, until his cock rubbed into you and you moaned. “Kepus,”

“Shh. It’s alright.” He whispered, his hips moved, you could feel him even when he wasn’t inside you. “Fucking hells, you are wet. You want this just much, don’t you?”

You didn’t get to answer him, feeling his head on your entrance, at this moment.

“This will hurt, sweetling.” Daemon kissed your forehead, his hands brushed your cheeks and hair just like when he wanted to comfort you at any peril of your. “but it will become better. I will make it all better.” And with that he pushed inside you, slowly, and you felt yourself stretching around him as he moved in slow, sucking in breath sharply and curses leaving his mouth, all faded to you.

He wasn’t lying when he said to would hurt. “kepus,” Your nails dug into his shoulders and he kissed your cheek with caressing your head all the while.

“Good girl, such a sweet girl, taking my cock so nicely.” You could hear his groans loud and clear even when he was speaking softly and slowly. “so tight, so firm. But you will take it, won’t you?”

You didn’t answer but hid your face in his neck, tightening your hold on him. You felt tore apart, yet you didn’t want to let go. “so big, kepus,” you whispered as he continued to bottom himself inside you and he kissed your neck saying words of praises.

It felt like hours when he stopped, Daemon by then had bit on your neck several times, you felt as if you’d had bled, but there was no worry about it. He won’t hurt you. You knew.

“Open your eyes, love,” He whispered and you did, he was just a hair width away from you and you could look at his eyes so clearly, his pools of lilac, light than that was your. You wished to have his eyes in your childhood.

He kissed you again and you kissed back. You couldn’t have enough of his mouth on yours, the taste of yourself and the wine mixed in both of your mouth was so sweet to you.

“Come to Dragonstone with me,” His forehead touched yours. Both of you were breathing each other in, “Take me to husband and I will take to you wife, in tradition of our house. You won’t be like her. Ever.”

You won’t be like her, he said. And you knew he was true to his words. He will be. He will not. Not like Alicent.

Not like her.

“Avy jorraelan, Kepus.” I love you, uncle.

Daemon smiled. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen in your life. “Avy jorraelan, donus rinus.” I love you, sweet girl.

Daemon moved in you, slow at first, so deep, you moaned at each stroke, every time his hips met yours, you couldn’t help but cry out first in discomfort and then in pleasure.

His lips descended upon your breast, taking your nubs in his mouth, he suckled at one like a babe hungry for their mother’s milk, his other hand playing with your other and his hips pushing into yours. You couldn’t hear anything but his grunt and groans and your moans and whimper.

Daemon held your legs, putting them around his waist. If you thought he was deep before, he was reaching way inside you.

“This cunt, your cunt was made for me, sweet girl. Look how good it take me. Even when you were asleep. Getting wet for me. It knows it’s mine. You know that too, don’t you?” you ought to feel humiliated and offended at such words. Being owned by some was not something you liked. But the way Daemon said it only made you clench harder around him making him groan, “fuck, yes. Yes, you do.”

“Yes. Yes, Kepus.” You whimpered at his fast pace inside you. Lost in the world of pleasure you were, you couldn’t hold your noises anymore. But of course you uncle would remedy it for you, putting his lips on yours, drinking every single sound in which left your mouth.

You clenched, your hands in his hair, pulling at them, feeling the tugging feeling as before in you. Daemon knew it all well.

“Going to give you my seed and you will swell with our child, sweet,” Daemon muttered in your ear. You felt yourself liking the prospect. Even imagining it in your head as your uncle rutted in you.

Our child.

“Yes”, you nodded, kissing his neck, “a babe, Kepus. With your eyes. I love your eyes.”

“Whatever, my sweet girl wants.” He grunted and you clenched on him again.

“Fuck, kepus.” You moaned, you were sure by now you had scratched his back bloody. “I... I feel it. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetling,” he muttered, “Let go. Just like before. Let it go.”

It wasn’t long you felt the same bliss wash over you and you felt warmth fill you in. Daemon’s seed, you knew it was as you both panted. Daemon stopped moving inside you after a few more strokes, but he did not pull out. He lowered himself to your bed and pulled you on him.

You rested your head on his chest, some silver hair, rubbing against your cheek, you took in the scent of his sweat, his skin glistening under the moonlight that fell in your room.

You felt him pull the sheet over the both of you, his hand running over your hair and exhaustion began to take over you. Your eyes drooped but you kept blinking the sleep away.

“Sleep,” Daemon kissed your head and you fell asleep just as quick as you had woken up, you hands wounded around his neck.

You prayed it not to be a dream.

#house of the dragon #asoiaf #hotd #targ reader #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targareyn smut #rhaenyra targaryen #king viserys #alicent hightower #viserys i targaryen #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Note

and what happens when rafe finally lets himself cum in bunny!reader

୭ 🐰 ✧ ˚. 🥛

he’d had a bad day, and the last thing he needed was for you to start your shit.

that’s how you ended up with your head down in the mattress, his foot up on the bed as he pounds you within an inch of your life. you’re a trooper— bless your heart, fucking back against him with the horniest, pornographic moans that no one would ever expect from a girl as sweet as you.

“give — give me babies, please!” you cry and his lips press together in irritation.

“dont start.” he warns, which to your ears means — continue.

“p—please wanna make you a daddy!” you mewl and he presses harshly on your arch when it falters.

“already your fuckin’ daddy, that’s not enough?” he remarks, continuing his abuse on your cunt.

“a— a real one!”

he slows for a moment — eyes fluttering shut before his bad mood takes over. “alright, you know what? y’think you’re a big girl? i’ll give you a fuckin’ baby. maybe that’ll teach you a lesson huh?”

you mewl happily as he holds you down, fucking into you in a selfish way he knew would drive him close to the finish line, balls slapping noisily against you. “think you can handle being swollen for nine months? huh? can’t wear any more of those little ass mini skirts that’s for sure.” he begins his rant, and your brows furrow. if you truly did have bunny ears, they would have perked up right about then — listening intently.

“hmmph—” you groan, not wanting to talk about that.

“gonna have a real— real life baby. all the time. you thought about that? that shits not sunshine n’fuckin’ rainbows kid. real, grown up responsibilities. yeah?” he’s mean, too rough and realistic and you squeal out, hand flying back to push his tummy.

“‘kay stop!” you cry out, and he does— pulling out and flipping you on your back when you’ve burst into inevitable tears.

“hey, you’re fine.” he holds himself over you, stroking your clammy forehead back as you sniffle.

“you were scary.” you complain, not having better words for the fact he just up and ruined your whole breeding kink.

“alright.” he sighs, shaking his head as he watches you calm down for a moment. “whats gonna make you feel better? huh? still want it?” his voice is softer, the irritable tinge just barely hidden. you nod shyly, blinking up wet spiky lashes.

he presses back into you, fucking you slower than before. you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you uh— would have been fine, you know. probably.” he speaks close to your ear, making you turn your head. “can— can still cum inside if you want.”

you nod, still emotional and he speeds up— concentrated with parted lips before he’s groaning. “thats it— that’s fuckin’ it. take it baby, there you go.” feeling your body go limp in total satisfaction as he fills you with his warm seed.

you hum, a deeply sated groan as your thighs twitch, savouring the feeling. “thank you daddy.” you smile, eyes unable to open at this point. you were all sleepy like you usually were after sex, and your tears had glued your eyes.

“yeah, don’t thank me just yet bun.” he blows out a breath before flopping to the side, lazily pulling you against him on the bed— not yet tending to the mess dripping out of you (and you probably would have fought to keep it there a little longer anyway)

what’s done was done, all he could do was cross his fingers and hope he hadn’t actually knocked you up.

୭ 🐰 ✧ ˚. 🥛

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #bunny!reader

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sukunas-wife · 3 months

Text

Sealed Pt. 5

first try 😎 (5th really)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

It didn’t take long to buy what you needed, but your funds were running low. Which led you to believe it was a good time to return to the temple you had opened, immediately after opening the doors there was a line of women and children. It didn’t take long as you started to go through them all, “blessing” pregnant women and healing sick children. Grateful women who couldn’t bear children or didn’t want to lose their children were more than willing to pay any price for healing. You’d been there almost all night when you felt an all too familiar presence. Your back was to the door but you turned looking over your shoulder. There he stood, tall, pale, long black hair and black robes. You turned completely to face him, “You must be Lady Y/n of the Shrine, I’ve heard so many stories of how you… help people, I’m curious of how you do it.”

Kenjaku, those stitches on his forehead would give him away easily to anyone who had common sense. “Sorry men aren’t allowed in the Shrine, with the exception of my husband and son.”

“You have a husband and son?” His face was smiling in disbelief, you didn't trust him even if he and Sukuna had chatted more than a few times he always left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. “Yes but that’s not important , so tell me why you’re really here. I get the feeling you're not leaving so easy.” He hummed, shrugging his shoulders, “I came looking for something. You have it and I might need it. So one sorcerer to another we both know what you have that’s helping you so much, it was awakened when Ryomen Sukuna was reincarnated. Do you know who that is or did you stumble across this little artefact and decide to keep it for yourself.” You watched his hand move from his sleeve holding up one of Sukuna’s fingers. Unamused, you looked away, “Sorry to tell you the only thing I see is a rotting dismembered finger, if you're not here to benefit both of us please leave.” You tried to wave him off but persisted in following you, Morí put himself between the both of you so you didn’t bother to look back at him. “I’ll give you one warning, you give me whatever you took and I’ll leave. But if I have to take it myself-“

He was cut off feeling hot liquid run down his face, your hand held up over your shoulder, “This is your warning, there won’t be a next one.” The sound of his skull cap hitting the floor was disturbing, Morí wanted to gag at the sight of the brain exposed. “That was a mistake.” You turned around your robes ruffled noisily “No! You turning your back when RYOMEN WAS BETRAYED WAS A MISTAKE KENJAKU, your damn lucky you have that binding vow and that he never found out the truth you two faced coward, I used to think you changed bodies so frequently because you actually had a plan. It turns out you're just lowly scum and your intentions were never clear, you’re a coward and when things become difficult in one life you’d just pop someone’s else’s skull open and go for a joy ride until it’s all used up.”

You saw those Fox like eyes light up followed by that unhinged smile, “Well if it isn’t Mrs.Ryomen Sukuna, I heard the rumours you escaped the prison realm, I just couldn’t believe it.” You felt your lip twitch like you were going to bare your teeth, “Believe it, I’m free and don’t think I’m here to support your silly little flip flop grill cheese bullshit plan. I’m also not going to join your little club of misfit cursed wombs and deranged psychopaths. I’m here for Ryomen and my son, if you do anything to hurt either of them I swear on your life Kenjaku I’ll be the one pulling you out of that man’s skull and making sure you never find another life. I have my plans already and I don’t need you.” He seemed displeased, “That’s the problem here Y/n, your wedding vows can’t do a thing to break a binding vow.”

You laughed “That’s the thing Kenny, you two made a binding vow, Tyler’s say there’s this cute little red string tying to Ryomen, you can both push and pull in the same direction as long as the rope never breaks. But, what happens if a third party comes in and manages to cut that string.” Your head tilted with a passive smile, “Get out.”

————-

“Alright Mama-dori, it's time for little Itadori to go out on his own on a mission!” Gojo seemed excited about breaking this news to you. You couldn’t have given him a more bewildered look. “What do you mean on a mission?” Mori was by your side taking the cracking tea cup from your hand before it shattered over the tea table. “Think of it as a field mission … erm Lady Y/n.” Your face didn’t change much while you were staring him down, he could swear he’s seen that look before. “Where’s it going to happen…?”

He gave you a mischievous smile, “Well if I told you how do I know you wouldn’t interfere.” “If you didn't, what makes you think I wouldn’t find Yuji on my own.” Your smug smile didn’t go unnoticed. “Good luck finding us then.”

———

It didn’t take long of you spending your day at home lazing about waiting for Yuji to come back, you weren’t held captive in this dingy little house but you started to wonder if this is what Sukuna felt like now that you understood he was trapped inside of Yuji

“Mooriiiiii”….. “hm.” “MoorIIIIIIII” “I’m sorry?” “MORI.” You finally lifted your head from being laid out on the cushions on the floor, Mori sighed with a sympathetic smile, closing the book he constantly kept your records and plans in. “Yes Lady Y/n?” You rolled over laying your head on the pillow not looking at him anymore, “I miss- Yuji? Or is it your husband this time?” You fell silent huffing and burying your face into the pillow “bof” Mori shook his head with a small smile at your muffled speech. “We’ve talked about this Lady Y/n, if you do want both of them back they really do need to know the truth.” You moved around so the side of your face was on the pillow and you could just barely see Mori looking at you from the tea table, “Do you know how difficult it’s going to be to explain to Sukuna he was reincarnated into his son that he now sees he’s being held hostage in?” Mori’s eyes didn’t leave your face as you watched a ladybug crawl past you, “But he recognizes you even without your cursed presence Lady Y/n…”

Finally you sat up looking at him, “Do you wanna know a secret Morinozuka? Something almost no one else knows?” He seemed uneasy at the thought, hesitating as you continued, “I’ll have to kill you if you ever tell anyone else but do you know why I lived so long? Why don't I age? Look at us Morino, you were a child when I found you all those years ago. You’ve grown, look at me, I have the same face and appearance as the day we met.” You held your hand out to him, he took it in his looking over the back of it, he remembered your hands well. When he was a child you gave him that motherly love of wiping away his tears, he’d take your hand whenever he’d get scared walking in public. He watched you fill out every paper, he admired the way you would heal people, but he always noticed how people’s hands changed with their age, but your hands were the same as the day he met you. “You haven’t aged Lady Y/n but I can’t tell why.”

“I’m a curse Mori, there’s a beautiful story behind how I became a curse” he watched how you smiled looking at your hand, he watched a mark form over your finger, “But that’s a story for another time!” You were quick to get up, “Let’s make something to eat. I doubt Gojo’s not going to feed them so we can eat at least.”

It didn’t take long for You and Mori to throw together a hot pot with meatballs. You were serving Mori who insisted he should be serving you, “oh be quiet Mori I didn’t take care of you for years for you to take care of every little thing I do now, now eat.” He huffed and started to eat watching as you started to serve yourself, it was when you were about to eat your own meal Yuji busted into your new home excited to tell you about everything. Mori caught your food as Yuji tackled you in a hug “Mom you should’ve seen us it was so cool we…” he paused looking at the table where you had set up the pot of broth. “Oh you were eating, sorry.” You watched as he smiled sitting back on his heels rubbing the back of his head with a big shy smile. You couldn’t help but smile at him, “cmon sit I’ll serve you some if you want and you can tell us how your… field test went.” He sat cross legged beside you leaning against your shoulder rambling and stuffing his face telling you about the revolving sushi and this Girl Kugisaki he and Fushiguro met. You laughed hearing how he whined that she sighed after just looking at them. You leaned your head on his and he kept talking, you listened to every word until he eventually fell asleep in your lap.

You looked down at him, your sweet boy, until you saw that eye open up, and a mouth form, it was a soft call and out of character, “Y/n.” You looked at him, Ryomen, “Ryo…” you saw the malicious smile on his face “If this brat trusts you so much I think you could do a little talking and get me out of here don’t you?” He watched and you smiled, shaking your head, crinkling your nose, “Reincarnated not too long ago and you're already making bigger plans…” your smile fell “what the hell was that where are the women and children moving about anyways hm?”

He looked away making a “face” “I don’t know what you're talking about woman, must’ve misheard….” “Mhm.” He looked back at you before looking away, “It’s been lonely you know…” you leaned down pressing a kiss to Sukuna’s “cheek”, he didn’t bother trying to fight you, “I know it’s been lonely you’ve been locked up for centuries Ryo.” He hummed, before looking at you upset “What are you doing HERE Y/n! Why would you surround yourself with these sorcerers and this brat? Who is this brat? WHYS HES SLEEPING ON YOUR LAP!?” Yuji stirred and you rubbed his head, you should send him to sleep in his dorm, “Ryomen-“ you gave him a look, he rolled his eye, “as much as you’d hate to hear this, Yuji Itadori is our so- mm, hmm?” Yuji sat up rubbing his eyes, “What time is it?” He yawned and all you saw was Sukuna squinting at Yuji before disappearing.

“It’s 10:40 Yu,” you started to stand up, “You should go sleep in your dorm so Gojo to Fushigumi don’t freak out if you're missing.”

He laughed, “Fushigumi.” He’s gonna love that one.” He stood up from the ground stretching and yawning before he squeezed you in a hug, “Gnight mom I’ll see you tomorrow.”

————-

“Hm, it’s July… I wonder if Yuji will want to go watch the fireworks later this month…” you yawned leaning against the post on the porch of the little home. The afternoon sun shining on your face, eyes closed, head resting back against the post. Ungratefully one leg was propped up the other was swinging off the porch just barely grazing the grass, the vibrant red of your robes shining bright. The shoji doors were open wide with fly nets set up, futons were airing out for when you wanted to laze about on the porch or in the living room on the floor, Morí had gotten tired of watching you throw all the cushions in a pile just to complain when you were on the floor and the cushions wouldn’t stay still. You heard him hum still scribbling away, you looked over picking up the hand fan laying at your side, “This was my wedding fan, did you bring it?” Morí hummed again “you said bring ALL your precious belongings when we first left the temple I assumed since it was wrapped in fine linen and in a red wooden box it was preserved for a reason. Then I saw a painting in your temple and it all made sense, Lady Y/n.” You waved it around unceremoniously watching the little charms sway around, “Lady Y/n… was Ryomen Sukuna really your husband?”

“Is he really my husband" is what you mean, he still is my husband even after all these years being forced apart…” you paused looking down on the school, “…he’s my husband…surprisingly he was different then to now. I still love him regardless, he gave me his heart and I gave him mine, sure the wedding vows today would probably sound occult but I was his he was mine, it took years to be comfortable by his side and then we he’s our first child, Yuj-” Morí watched the panicked look on your face, when you pulled your sleeve up grabbing your arm where your binding vow has marked you. He watched you squeeze the muscle hissing through gritted teeth, “Yuji.” It sounded like a forced grunt. He watched you cough from trying to bear the pain, it stopped and you let go, you were visibly confused “Lady Y/n what- I don’t know” you cut him off, “that’s never happened before.” You watched as the mark became a lighter colour almost blending into your skin then you understood, “I NEED TO FIND YUJI.”

———

“….s..Go..” You couldn’t get the words out, you wanted to scream at Satoru, you wanted everyone to die and it filled the room the moment he didn’t let you enter and you forced your way in to see your son laying on the cold metal bed. He was stripped bare with a gaping hole in his chest, the woman in a lab coat and Gojo watched you walk right past them. You could still feel a faint lingering of Sukuna’s cursed energy. Your hand moved up slowly taking Yuji's. He was so cold. The hand you squeezed as a child, the tiny chubby hands that wiped your tears “It’s okay mommy!” The hands you held onto walking him to school, you shook your head, tears in your eyes, it’s always these damn sorcerers who are so prideful in what they do they try to play heroes and fix the world. Putting the lives of others at expense even if it means they’ll only save one or two people. Your hand trailed up his arm fingertips brushing over where your binding vow was disappearing. “Some proud jujutsu sorcerer you must be.” You could feel Gojo’s stare, having ignored all his rambling but knowing he was upset.

“My son is dead at the expense of what Satoru Gojo?”

Your hair fell over your face when your tears started to fall, ducking your head down feeling like your chest and shoulders were curling in on you. You placed your hand on his chest and it felt like everything changed. You weren’t in that room, you were standing in an all too familiar place.

“Oh,” you felt the heat in your cheeks rising when you heard Ryomen’s voice, “Well if it isn’t my pretty little wife finally coming to visit me hm?” He was behind you, his left arm lazily wrapped around your waist the right around your shoulder so his hand could hold your jaw, he turned your face to look back and up at him. His eyes were lidded and smiled down at you, “Ryomen…” he moved in closer, his lips ghosting over yours, “y/n.” He closed the gap kissing you, he could feel the way you broke out and smiled against his lips, it made him crack his own smile when you tried to hold back your giggles. You were so happy to be able to see him after so long, “Ryo.” You pulled away and he frowned slightly looking at you, “what- LET GO OF HER-“

All you saw was Sukuna grabbing Yuji’s fist and throwing him and sending him flying into the liquid a distance away. “Oh Yuji..”

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sytoran · 1 year

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐌.

wanda maximoff's sons have soccer practice, while she spends some time with their young and ridiculously good-looking coach in the equipment closet.

──── 🍃 pairing. milf!wanda x buff!footballcoach!reader

──── 🍃 cont. smut (18+), sub!wanda, dom!reader, reader is gender-neutral but has a penis, shameless smut, blowjobs, thirsting, you are weak in the knees and the heart for milfy!wanda, possesiveness

──── 🍃 note. saw lizzie's oscar look and got this whole idea lmao. i am swimming in requests but here this is anyways. sue me lol.

masterlist / AO3 / join the taglist

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

every saturday, tommy and billy maximoff have football practice.

it may seem like a hassle to some parents, having to take the time out of their day to drive their kids to this place and that, but for this particular lesson, wanda doesn't mind.

the reasoning for her sweet relief doesn't lie entirely within helping her darling boys play their favourite sport, as strange as that sounds. truthfully, the answer would lean slightly more towards the person that coaches them in that sport.

but, who could blame wanda?

after all, her boys' football coach was just about the biggest heartthrob she'd ever seen.

bronzed skin kissed by the sun, expanding over broad shoulders and a sturdy figure. biceps and triceps so prominent it was nearly blinding, and forearms so structured it made architects weep. wanda felt as if you were a greek god come to life, with an unfairly charming smile and large, large hands.

wanda knew she wasn't the only one, after all, thirsting over the classic young, hot, athletic coach.

now, watching you be surrounded by the younger moms with their kids, hanging off your every word, wanda couldn’t help but feel a bubbling feeling of jealousy rise in her.

wanda maximoff had never been a pushover.

"okay, so when scoring a goal you’re going to find small windows or open spaces. don’t wait for the perfect opportunity, take every chance you get.” you explained to the group of kids grouped in front of you in the hot sun.

“there’s no windows in football!” tommy maximoff helpfully piped up. the lively seven-year-old student of yours was always full of energy, quite unlike his twin, billy, who was generally more reserved and quiet.

you cracked a laugh at his response, before feeling a pair of eyes on you from behind. sitting in the court side benches was mrs. maximoff, with her dazzling smile, looking directly in your line of vision.

you gulped. god, as much as you loved teaching her kids, she was something else entirely. the way her exposed thighs were shining in the hot sun made your throat run dry. when mrs. maximoff gave you a playful wink, you felt something throb in your pants.

i swear to god, y/n l/n, if you get a boner in front of these seven-year olds i’ll kill you.

gratifyingly, you managed to evade the embarrassing situation, instead letting them practice goals on their own for a while.

as all the little kids were running around in the hot sun, you retreated to a sheltered corner to grab a drink. wiping the sweat off your forehead, you nearly jumped a metre high into the air when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“didn’t mean to scare you, sorry darling.” mrs. maximoff said with a wry grin, sitting herself down next to you. you’re more than welcome to have her, noting the way her eyes raked over your taller, sweaty form. interesting.

“s’alright, mrs. maximoff. how’s your day been going?” you ask, attempting to strike up casual conversation. you ignore your heart beating faster in your chest.

wanda chuckles, leaning back with a sigh. “tiring, i suppose. extremely hot weather, though. summer is a blessing and a curse.” you’re about to agree with her wholeheartedly, before wanda’s casually unbuttoning her blouse. you choke on your words.

she’s absolutely mesmerizing. your eyes can’t seem to stray from her newly-exposed cleavage, accentuating her breasts and the pink bra that peeks through. it’s awful, you know, that your mind is running wild at the sight of the curve of her breast, but you can’t seem to help it.

the two of you spend some time, sitting on that bench, watching as the kids try and fail to kick the ball successfully within the goalposts. it’s almost therapeutic. until……

“look out!”

before you can react, the corner of your eye catches the sight of a stray ball.

it’s flying towards wanda and the drink in her hand, and by some miracle your goalkeeper senses are awakened seconds before it can touch her.

an arm flying out to stop the ball, you miraculously catch it with one hand at such a high pace. your hand flexes with the fierce catch, a well-muscled forearm now in wanda’s direct line of vision. time’s frozen for a second, as you watch wanda’s shocked face, almost blushing too. you’d never felt more cool.

but after your goalkeeper instincts kick in, your teacher instincts kick in, and you stand up to speak to the careless kid. before you can leave, wanda tugs on your arm. you spin around and you nearly faint.

unbeknownst to you, the drink in wanda’s hand had split with the impact of the ball, and it was all over her blouse now. to add insult to injury, it easily seeped through the thin material of the white blouse, basically making it transparent, baring to your eyes what was underneath.

the yells of the kids fade out as you stare at the wanda, shell-shocked. you can see…… everything.

despite wanda’s face of worry, you swear there’s a hint of deviousness in there, almost as if she planned to have her drink there. you shake your head. i’m goin’ mad in the sun, you think.

“i-uh, let’s get you some clean clothes, mrs. maximoff. sorry about the kids, i-”

“no worries," wanda answers promptly, holding on to your forearm. "don't want anyone else to see," she whispers, effectively hiding behind you as you lead her to the equipment closet.

the consequences of this, however, lie in the fact that you can feel wanda's nipples pressing into your back, small and hard and rubied. the searing heat in your pants is almost unbearable now.

calm down, it's not a big deal.

wanda's hand trails over the expanse of your back when the two of you reach the equipment closet, and you unintentionally shudder under her touch. you pretend you don’t notice the smirk on her face.

you shake your head vigorously, resisting the urge to slap your hands to your cheeks. she’s just my students’ mom, you think, swearing you don’t care about how close the two of you are.

when wanda’s ass brushes against your crotch. it takes every cell of your existence not to rip off your goddamn shorts and start fucking her against the wall. you’d never been so riled up.

“here’s some clean clothes. sorry about the size, though.” you mumble, averting your eyes when wanda tries to look at you. you shove the clothes into her hands, eyes fixated on a football on the shelf.

“help me with the button?” wanda asks, and you spin around, then you nearly choke. again.

she’s taken off her blouse, exposing her chest to your hungry eyes. the lacy pink bra is the object of your desires, distracting you in every sense imaginable. at this point, you couldn’t give a flying fuck about your boner. you know she’s as turned on as you.

"i get it, sweetheart, you're a young adult with needs, hm?" wanda asks in a sultry voice, walking up to you ever so slowly.

you swallow, not trusting yourself to speak. all you can do is stare at wanda with a haze in your eyes.

her hands reach the straining tent in your pants. it's erect, forming a bulge so huge wanda can barely cup all of it in her hands.

your breathing becomes ragged as wanda traces her fingertips along the bulge. you're looking down as she gets on her knees, eyelids fluttering.

she licks her lips.

"let me help you with that," wanda whispers, casting a look upwards. you bite back a low groan at her expression, so ready to pleasure you and take your length into her pliant mouth.

you raise an eyebrow in a challenge, staring down with dark eyes, and wanda is more than quick to rid of your shorts, admiring the sheer size of your fully-erect cock.

the tip is a cherry red, precum already leaking, and she eagerly laps up the remaining residue. you let out a moan, hands twisting into her scalp as you pull her mouth closer.

nothing could describe the euphoria you felt when wanda first wrapped her lips around your cock, clinging onto your tensed quadriceps to steady herself.

"shit," you groaned, throwing your head back, tugging onto wanda's locks of hair firmer. she let out a moan from the back of her throat, releasing your cock from her lips with a 'pop'.

moving on to languidly trail her tongue along your shaft, wanda showed off experienced skill in the way she maneuvered her way around your cock, teasing you up and down then licking at the slit.

fuck, you were close. really, really, close.

wanda was relentless in her ministrations, bringing you so close to the edge in such a short time. when she began deepthroating you, gagging prettily onto your cock, you’re sent tumbling over that edge with no safety net under.

“shit, mrs. maximoff,” you breathe, holding the sides of her flushed face, locking gazes with dilated pupils.

she gets up, slowly, brushing off her knees as if she hadn’t just brought you to a kaleidoscopic orgasm. “i’ll take my leave now, coach. the boys-”

you don’t grant her access to the exit, before you’re roughly pulling her back in for something more than just a blowjob.

after that racy encounter with wanda, the two of you seem to end up in the equipment closet a lot more. you’re making excuses, you know, pathetic, but you somehow manage to convince yourself you could ever have wanda maximoff.

you get to know her more, along the way, that her birthday is february 10, and her comfort food is parikash, and she’s sokovian, but her accent hardly ever makes its appearance anymore.

to you, wanda maximoff is more than a quick fuck, or a stress reliever. it’s stupid, you know, because she’s a divorced single mom with two kids and whole lot of responsibilities, and you’re nothing more than someone with too much love.

your role in her life is ambiguous to you. you sometimes wish you could dive into her brain to find out just what you are, but for now you have to be content with what you are.

the first time wanda brings you back home, you're more than eager to repay every favour she's given you.

she's hardly even unlocked the front door before you're lifting her up from the back of her thighs and up the stairs, making her so wet with that effortless, unyielding strength of yours.

it isn't long before you toss her onto the bed - the bed she used to sleep in with her ex-husband, the bed she spent hours masturbating on to the thought of you, the bed you were now devouring her on.

wanda doesn't know what she's done to deserve this, to deserve your deliciously thick cock ramming into her wet cunt, your hot mouth whispering affectionates into her ear, the silver chain on your neck dangling with each fiery thrust.

she's obsessed with the way your tattooed back muscles flex and move as you pound into her. she tries to forge it into her memory,

you're relentless, gripping her plush thighs and pressing her knees to her head. you know she takes yoga lessons and you haven't been more thankful for that flexibility.

wanda's spread entirely open for you, completely bare, all dripping and vulnerable, and you think you might just die.

that night, you make wanda see constellations she'd never witnessed, make her cum so hard wanda thought she might pass out, and simply take her.

that night was one that etched itself into both of your memories, of heat and fervour and lust and love.

love, those three words neither of you would dare to admit, of unsaid confessions and buried feelings.

when you lay beside a passed-out wanda, your own boundless stamina weary, you suppress the urge to stroke gently at her hair. it takes everything in you to not kiss her forehead and murmur things you'd always regret.

your heart was swelling, growing bigger each time you saw wanda maximoff, but she had little space in her life for you.

but for now, you wouldn’t care if it came back to hit you in the face.

for now, wanda maximoff would be everything to you, and maybe that would suffice.

recently watched ant man, and i swear there was something going on with jentorra and cassie... or maybe that's my syndrome of seeing every fictional woman as lesbian LMAO hope yall enjoyed this, the fic i'll be writing next is probably this :)

masterlist / AO3 / join the taglist

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undercoverpena · 5 months

Text

coming under the christmas tree

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential—as your hands find his belt, undoing it, the sound cutting through all else, even burying a whispered expletive that falls from his tongue. “Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

warnings: explicit. 18+. smut. literal porn from me. oral (m recieving), p in v, praise (jo has a thing, run with it), frankie being gorgeous, minor cock worship, christmas themes.

wordcount: 2.8k an: i wrote this little imagine and then the gorgeous, wonderful @wildemaven created this moodboard (which inspired the banner) and then i decided to write more.

Putting up a tree with anyone is a chore, but with him, it’s a blessing.

It isn’t because it’s him, because you’re dating, because he makes you laugh and makes your toes curl at any time of the day. But, rather, because he wants to do it. Because he’s methodical. Always thinking, turning—planning.

Whether it’s routes to get somewhere, timing on when to leave when the two of you have reservations or whether your grand plans for a room rearrangement, Frankie plots it out and makes measurements in his head. He’s always right, not that he ever gloats—just nods as though it’s entirely normal.

It isn’t—it’s fucking hot.

Something you expect, and thankfully do, come face to face with when the branches are all in place on the half-dressed Christmas tree. The clear plastic boxes strewn across the living room, his fingers slowly undoing and unknotting the lights you’d haphazardly thrown in the box last year.

You know the answer, but you ask all the same: “You want me to help with that?”

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look. A blend of ‘be serious’ and ‘you’re good’ cuts across his features, making his eyes warmer and his smile kinder.

Before he even sets about winding them through the branches, you can tell he’s created a light-path. Already heard him mumbling that they don’t go all the way around, remember earlier. His eyes glancing up at it, making mental notes, calculating a route—brown eyes skating and shifting side to side.

You just remain on the floor, legs crossed—checking over the ornaments for nicks or scratches—admiring. You do it a lot, admire him, take him in—gawk, trace your eyes over him so when you blink you don’t waste a second not seeing him.

“We can always buy another set?” you offer, watching him bend behind the armchair, plugging them in, plunging the room in a soft, white glow.

Grinning, Frankie brushes some loose strands from over his eyes, “No need, baby. I’ve got it.”

He does. You weren’t surprised his devised path makes the base of the tree already look full—no section unlit, each bit of cable hidden from sight, blending perfectly with the tree. You were even sure if you turned it 180, the back currently in the corner would even be lit.

It isn’t that which makes your mouth drool.

It also isn’t the way the twinkle of the lights has hit the brown of his eyes when he lets his gaze fall to you, making it appear like a galaxy has burst in them—a sky full of stars, all staring at you.

No. It’s the way the entirety of him is lit up. Practically glowing. It enhances how stretched out he is, practically in a straight line. His arms above his head, fingers delicately wrapping the lights around the tip of the tree. It shines light over the slither of skin exposed from his shirt rising; it makes it more evident that his tongue is poking out, resting on his bottom lip, eyes trained on the job at hand, his priority, his task.

You flutter around nothing.

Feel your heart stammer in your chest as you devour the sight of him whole.

Placing the ornament in the good-to-hang pile, you don’t even pretend to glance at it. Too busy drinking in the sight of the lines on his arms from flexing—those strong, arms which carried the tree down from the attic. Little beads of sweat had clung to his forehead then, having needed to shift things around, move them—move baby, don’t want you to get hurt.

You were something akin to pain now. Desperate, needy and fucking feral. Your throat all dry while your tongue felt heavy, eyes sliding down his frame, focusing on the hairs on his stomach, all exposed, beckoning to be touched, to have your tongue slide down over it.

You only blink when he clears his throat, looking up, finding his eyes on you—tracing over your face, slightly narrowed, attempting to read you.

Another day, you might shy away from it. Look away first, wait until he calls your name and pleads for you to look at him. Today, you don’t. Slowly rising onto your knees, holding his stare, commanding him to blink as little as possible:

Watch me, Morales. Keep your eyes on me.

Sliding your tongue across your bottom lip, your teeth finding a resting place on it—fingers sliding to his hips, watching his hand release the lights, forehead smoothing, any and all confusing lines fading away.

The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential—as your hands find his belt, undoing it, the sound cutting through all else, even burying a whispered expletive that falls from his tongue.

“Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

Your fingers undo the button, tracing your tongue again over your lip—hungry, practically salivating—as you slide the zip through the teeth. His gaze is still on you, unwavering, a shadow of surprise in the back of his eyes that this is even happening—as though he is still taken back by the fact he deserves this, deserves you.

“You want me to suck your cock, baby?”

His swallow fills the room—loud, vociferous. Your palm brushes over the hardened bulge, tracing the outline over the thin cotton which remained a barrier between his velvet skin and your tongue.

“I really wanna suck your cock,” you add, purring, practically drooling as you notice the wet stain appearing—blooming, stretching out—as one hand falls from the tree, cupping the side of your mouth.

You like him like this, quiet, taken off guard. So often it is him doing it to you, saying all the right things, whispering all the words which make your skin feel like fire.

When you finally let his cock spring free, you waste no time licking a stripe up the side, tongue flat, brushing over veins as your hands tease the fabric down to the tops of his knees, resting on the jeans that remain there, pointless, likely mildly annoying for him. Not that he’ll care in a second. Less so for now when your fingers wrap around him, take his girth in your palm, warmth spreading over your palm as you slowly pump him up and down, collecting your first few hisses, and a little groan.

You marvel at him—at his cock. How thick it is, how long. How you know it feels between your thighs, how it makes your toes curl. Pressing kissing to the leaking tip, wrapping your lips around the head, hand working the length of him as you make your lips slick, coat them in desire, before you take as much of him as you can. Your tongue pressed to the underside, mouth basked in the taste of salt and just him, as your jaw stretched to accommodate him, to willfully take more, and more.

“Don’t know—fuck, baby—what I did to deserve you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, burning under the praise, under his praise. Your head bobbing, wanting to show gratitude by taking more of him. Cheeks hollowing, his fingers sliding around the back of your head, a comforting hold, a calming one as you relax your throat, wanting to be full of him. Fiercely so.

Tears even prick at your eyes, and your fingers dig into the back of his thighs, lifting off, swirling your tongue around him, running your teeth lightly over him, before swallowing as much of him as you can. Willing for him to smear your throat in him, leave you tasting him with each swallow for the rest of the afternoon.

“Wanna fin—fuck—ish inside you,” he grunts, curls plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed—neck stained in pink.

You moan in response, closing your lips around him as you’re sure your underwear is clinging to you, drenched in want.

You’re half-tempted to slide your fingers inside the band of your shorts, passed the red lace you chose this morning, not even sure if you’d be unwrapped before or after the erection of the tree. Midway through hadn’t crossed your mind. Had never counted on this, never would have made a bet.

But, then he drags himself out, tip hovering at your lips giving you a look—sharp, uncharacteristic of him. “I want to fuck you, baby. Make you feel good.”

Tongue swirling over, he appears to shudder, eyes fluttering, before he pulls the rest free from your mouth. Spit smearing your lip, snapped in the space between where the two of you had been connected.

“You always make me feel good, Frankie.”

Smirking, his arm flexes briefly as he takes hold of his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

And you don’t miss the reference. Not so drunk on him that you don’t remember your own words from before—but you just nod. A retort growing and dying, as you do.

“Spread your legs and show me.”

And you do. Leaning back, sliding onto your rear, your fingers slide your clothing down your legs, kicking it off past your ankles, passed the fluffy socks you’d stolen from him. Bare from the waist down, just for him—always for him. Letting your arms support you from behind, you tilt your head. In awe of him once again as he wraps his hand around his cock, the size even more impressive when you know how big his hands are—your own nails digging into the rug under your palms and ass.

“C’mon, show me you want me.”

You whimper, spreading your knees, letting them part until they’re hovering just above the floor on either side.

The cool air kissing over you, a gasp desperate to emerge but dies somewhere in your throat—swallowed up by a moan at the way he views you. The way his eyes rake up and down you like this is the first time he’s seen you, and not the billionth.

Like all the things he does, it’s with precision the way he rids himself of being contained by his jeans and underwear. Lowering himself to his knees between yours, you lean forward, lips finding his—messy, needy. Need you, they kiss, fuck me, they plead.

His mouth remains on you, only letting enough words escape to tell you to keep his jumper on when your fingers slide his t-shirt up and over his head. He rewards your obedience by letting his hand fall from himself to you—tracing, languid circles on your swollen clit, until he pushes two fingers in. You shift your hips into him, hearing him moan distantly at the feel of how wet you are, whispered praises given that are too far away as your mind rendered nothing (emptied, lost)—

Because he’s electric, you swear. Not even sure the lights need plugging in, you swear he could touch them and they’d illuminate—at least from the way he sparks enough in you to light the whole house up. Making it run, dart, a heavy current that dashes through your veins.

It’s why you whimper at the loss of him—only stopping yourself from whining when you feel him trace his cock through your folds, teasing, tracing up and down as the head of him nudges your clit, watching you, focused on the way your mouth must be parted and the likely sheen on your face.

And, you’re about to say his name—more in warning, in hunger. His body presses you down flush to the floor, the back of your hips meeting the fluff of the rug, as his mouth slides over your jaw, fingers dancing along your thigh, writing words, with the pads of them—leaving teasing verses against your skin.

“Stop teasing,” you say sharply.

Watching your words have their desired effect—that shy smile that grows into a confident smirk. The one you witness more than anyone else, the one you think of when you’re alone in the bed you share and it’s only his voice you have down the phone when your mind tries to pretend your fingers are his.

It’s slow, gentle, the way he begins to line up, pausing at your entrance—keeping you hanging, delicately placed there, held up by string as his breath paints what he wants to do to you against your neck. But you don’t hear it, can’t untangle the tale, least of all when he begins pressing in, sliding in inch by inch—

He’s big. And it makes you breathe deeply as you stretch around him. It makes you shiver. Makes you moan as he buries himself to the hilt, hips flush with yours.

“So good for me,” he praises before his lips slope over yours.

His hips begin to move, and each drag of his cock in and out makes you moan. The sound of you swallowing him, taking every inch of him he’ll give, is the soundtrack; the backdrop being the halo of lights above the two of you. It lights him, kisses along the varying shades that make up his curls, the browns, the beginning greys.

And you’re soaked, drenched—can feel it around where the two of you are joined, each slow drag in and out making it more apparent as you capture his lips. Breathlessly doing so, looping fingers around his neck, tugging lightly on his hair, curling into him, needing him deeper as your legs wrap around him.

It’s then the tip of him hits that spot, all unhurried. A motion he seeks, centres in on as he thrusts again, abutting it, making your eyes close and your mouth stretch each syllable of his name out in a whine. It makes you forget how to speak, and which language to utter. Barely a word for each finger can even come to mind, it’s mostly just his name. Frankie. Frankie. Please, Frankie as the air crackles around you.

He answers—he always does. His hand slides between your sweaty bodies, and finds the bundle of nerves calling out to him, the place which yearns. Doing so with accuracy, and exactness, as he draws shapes, lines and the fucking alphabet until you’re seeing stars, until it’s so hot you swear the jumper will peel from your skin and your head is nothing but a dizzying mess of him, just him. It makes you frantic to see him, outline his face, all cast in shadows because he’s turned away from the lights which made him look ethereal only moments ago.

His cock throbs inside of you, everything else curling inside your stomach, walls twitching around him as you tighten, vice-like, making him hiss. A sound which makes molten spread through you, more so when his mouth slides to your ear, breath laboured, along your skin, begging for you to come, needing you to, please, baby, please.

“S’close, Frankie.”

“I know—doing so well, so perfect for me.”

The words unlock something as a new pace is set, it more unforgiving, one that’ll likely leave marks on his knees from the friction on the rug, as you writhe and cling, half-moons left on his neck, digging in, marking him in the same way he’ll mark your walls in a moment or two.

Then, it floods over you. Drowns you. Coats you from head to toe as though you’ve been plunged in pleasure, left gasping, breath struggling to be located. Your mouth latched to his, burning your thanks into his mouth, your entire body tingling as he fucks you through it, until he’s thrusting aimlessly, so damn close until your name leaves the back of his throat in a sob, a blend of pleasure and relief strewn across his face as he comes deep inside of you. Hips slowing to a stammer, lowering himself down till he’s flush with you, before they come to a stop.

Then, it’s just his pants that meet your strained breaths, until a little hiss as he pulls himself out of you. Leaving you empty, sore in a way you’re grateful for, as his fingers trace over your chin, along your jaw, words being thought in slow bubbles as he stares at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slide a hand to his hip, pinching.

“Just love that puttin’ lights up made you wanna suck my cock, is all.”

Smiling, you run your knuckles along his cheek, and brush past the wiry hair that makes up his patchy beard. “Wait till you see me hand the baubles, bet you’ll wanna be on your knees for me.”

“Good,” he replies. “I’m really hoping to taste how good we are together once we’re done.”

an: i freaking loved writing this, oh my.

i don't usually do taglists, but just tagging a few people who seemed interested in the longer version (sorry if this is annoying): @thetriumphantpanda @swiftispunk @5oh5 @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @reddedmiller @yorksgirl @missredherring @tvversionperson @secretelephanttattoo

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