#coils-n-carry

[satorena]

✧.* BUT I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAK !?

featuring. g. satoru, f. toji, n. kento, g. suguru, k. choso

warnings. explicit content, foul language, lots of unrealistic expectations (note. title itself), overstimulation (m+f), dickdrunk!reader, dumbification, usage of toys, squirting, spanking, very light spit play, anal, 69 position, breeding kink, unprotected sex, toji’s kinda mean and choso can’t tell the difference between pussy and an asshole. if i forgot anything else my bad !

rena’s note. BUT I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAK !!! LIKE A G !!!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

“fuh—fuck, oh shit, hah fuck— ‘ts so fuckin’ good!”

you bounced up and down his cock, surface of your palms pressed at the planes of his chest. you enveloped his length entirely, every single inch, in your pulsating pussy, driving the both of you to madness.

it’d been hours, and for whatever was in the air tonight, you both fucked like wild animals. your thighs burned from over-exhaustion, but you were relentless. you were desperate for another orgasm, the slide up and down his inches effortless due to your juices soaking his thighs and his cum from having nutted inside you multiple times prior.

gojo’s firm hands grabbed at your ass, fingers gripping tightly into your soft flesh, grounding you in position so you wouldn’t run. as if you would anyway, tongue lolled out and drool leaking from your rosy tongue and dribbling down his bottom lip.

“that’s it,” he encourages you, a faint smirk at his lips as he guides you down his length. the fucked out look on your face, your dazed eyes crossing to the centre of your face serves a huge ego boost. “my pretty girl—fuckin’ ride this dick baby, ‘s all yours—mmh,”

the sinful sound of your pussy squelching, folds latching at the tip of his dick before ramming yourself down, the lustful melody of your skin slapping against him in addition to the firm spanks of encouragement on your ass, with your high pitched mewls and squealing sounded like divine music to gojo’s ears.

you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down, went back to bouncing up and down, made circles and figure eight shapes on his length, mindlessly dragging your hips wherever felt fit. you were so far past a point of euphoria you weren’t even sure if liquids could come out of you for the rest of the night.

“eyes here princess,” gojo brings a hand to cup your jaw, forcing your head back down to face him. “pretty pussy’s griping me so tight—fuck,”

your sweaty foreheads press together, and you clock that he knew you were on the brink of yet again another orgasm. cerulean orbs peered deeply into yours, his hips jerking up and meeting your bounces, aiming to bring you to that high as quickly as he can.

“sa—satoru!” you find is the only thing that comes up in your mushed out brain, the new angle of the position having his dick puncture your cervix. you felt so fucking full of him, so drunk on the pleasure that you failed to notice the coiling in your stomach snapping.

he squeezes at your ass cheeks as hard as he can, the painful pleasure obliging you to sit and take his ramming. he fucks into you with intensity, each drag of his cock at your walls sending you into a temporary state of immobility. your muscles tense as you feel yourself wash with yet again another white-blinding orgasm.

your jaw drops and your eyes roll back, throat exhausted while nothing yet everything is said. satoru pumps his creamy cum back into your womb, praising you for taking him in so well, for having a perfect pussy that’ll surely carry his children, all snug and warm for him.

“perfect fuckin’ pussy—mine, all mine, gonna fuck her full of my nut and have you carrying my babies, yeah? ‘s what you want, isn’t it? atta. fuckin’. girl.”

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈.

“whew, would’ya look at that?” toji whistles, barking out a chuckle as he slows his pace, watching your uncontrollably clenching pussy squirt out your juices like a leaking faucet.

the pressure of your squirting is fucking intense, it has your entire body shaking, thighs quaked and the arch that was once on your back rounded. toji can’t help but laugh as tears stream down your damp cheeks, absolutely in love with how greedy your pussy clamped down on his cock.

“daddyyy—fuck!” your nails claw at the damp sheets on the bed, letting your nth orgasm rake throughout your body.

you feel a firm blow at your ass cheeks, the sound echoing in the room and you whine loudly at the stinging pleasure. you feel two big hands grab at your hips, stabilizing your limp body before a hand rises up and pushes your back into that curve.

“nah uh doll,” toji tuts, hips angling at a new position, one that draws a broken mewl from your sore throat. he picks his pace back up, never fully bottoming out, though you wouldn’t even notice with how many inches he packed.

“what’d i tell you?” he reminds you, and you’re too fucked out to answer him as you mumble his name over and over, helplessly taking the stretch of his dick at your gaping cunt.

he slaps your ass harshly again and you cry, fingernails scratching and clawing at the silk material beneath you. your scalp soon stings as he grabs a handful and effortlessly brings you upper body up to meet him.

“answer me when i ask you somethin’ baby,” toji frowns, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, sending chills of nerves down your spine. “basic fuckin’ manners.”

“suh—sorry, ‘m sorry toji!” you apologize feverishly, and moan in satisfaction when his tongue laps up your drool and tears streaking your ruined yet pretty face.

“tsk, should have you do the work yourself,” toji teases you, releasing the deathly grip on your hair, causing your limp body to flop back to the mattress. as if proof to avoid calling his bluff, he releases his hold on you, opting to cross his arms above his head instead.

“n-no! toji, no, please, said i was sorry—‘m so fucking sorry!” you whine and ramble when you feel the lack of contact on your body, and your gaping cunt suddenly emptying.

you slither your hand between your thighs, grabbing at his girthy cock, pumping it a few times before slipping it with ease back into your welcoming warmth. you moan wantonly, clawing at your sheets as you fuck yourself on his dick, pushing yourself back and forth.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he comments with a chuckle, spitting a glob of saliva down to your cunt, watching it dissipate into the creamy pearly veil of your essence around the base of his shaft.

he collects your slick with his thumb, before slipping his fingertip into your puckering hole, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion.

“trappin’ me inside—shit, want me to fuck you full of my cum, yeah? leave you swollen and leakin’, dontcha, pretty baby?”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎.

“‘s too much ken—no more, hah, no more kento!”

you whined and begged, fists clenching as your muscles tensed, back arching off the mattress and toes curling while digging your heel at his shoulder blades. the sound of buzzing filled your hearing, the toy vibrating against your swollen clit ruthlessly while nanami fucked your cunt open with two thick fingers.

“mmh, safe word princess, or else i can’t hear you.” he reminds you, the words ghosting off his lips and sinking into your supple flesh, his lips trailing soft and gentle kisses at your inner thighs.

here he was, giving you an out, and despite claiming enough was enough, you didn’t want it to end just there. with your senses heightened, both your sight and touch restrained, the pleasure emitting from in between your thighs buzzed blissfully and tenfolds through your nervous system.

you released the clench of your hands and opted to scratch at the wood of the headboard you were tied to, projecting your want to touch your boyfriend through the clawing.

“i can keep—hnng—going!” you tell him, legs closing in on the sides of his head. you hear him tut disapprovingly, and you immediately fault your mistake, forcing your legs back open.

“there’s my good girl,” his honeyed voice rings through your ear drums, and it admittedly has you dripping even more on his fingers that curled at your insides. “just need one more from you—can you do that for me?”

you nod your head, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, “mmh, yes—yes i can kento!” you can feel your blood circulation cutting off at the areas were you’re bind, the shortage of blood messing with your already weak body.

the toy playing at your bundle of nerves is painful, having overstepped the boundary of comfortableness and stepping into a new territory of foreign, and you had failed to notice when nanami added in a third finger. you were sure with how much you came just on his hands alone, his watch was drenched in your juices.

those big fingers fuck you open, knuckles pressing into your spongy walls and triggering all sorts of pleasurable feelings throughout you, your stomach tightening into a familiar hot feeling, and you know you’re close again.

“kento, baby i—‘m gonna—fuckkk!” you want to card your fingers through his soft hair, tug and pull and release your pleasure onto his scalp.

“let go for me sweetheart, wanna taste your sweet essence,” nanami swaps the toy for his tongue and flicks at your clit. you feel the dam in your gut release at the sudden warmth exhibiting, and you spray him in pathetic squirts of your juices.

your body trembles as it contracts and gives nanami everything you have left to offer. you squeeze his head in your thighs, moaning wildly as his pace with his fingers never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

he swaps his tongue out for the toy again, and you wail out a broken cry, body at its limit, still stuck between coming down from your orgasm and greedily wanting another one.

he strokes your slit, collecting all your essence as he licks his lips eagerly.

“good job princess. taste so heavenly, i’ve never had anything like it before. i’ve gotta have another sip, will you let me have another taste, my love?”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.

“c’mon, focus sweetheart. do that f’me, yeah?”

you nod your head, mouth too full of dick as you opt to bob up and down. your jaw aches, feeling as though it’s being ripped apart. you force your aching wrist to work up and down geto’s cock, stimulating what you fail to get down your throat.

it would’ve been a simple task for you to focus on, had suguru not been feasting on your pussy like a starved man. he spreads your folds open, tonguing at your insides as if he dug for gold, grabbing both your cheeks in his big hands and spreading you open. he never half assed anything, much less pussy eating.

his skin was soaked in your squirt, orgasms came rolling in and out of you as did the occasional pumps of two fingers into your cunt while he ate you out. you would moan in pleasurable pain, the sounds vibrating on his shaft, which would induce him to moan into you, causing you to moan back on him, the cycle this repeating.

you were greedy—you could complain about how it was too much all you wanted, at the end of the day, you would pause on his cock to grind your hips back and forth on his face, the slip from your slick on his cheeks and nose making the grinding easier.

his nose would bump into your clit and you’d shiver from head to toe, the oversensitivity catching up to you. the free hand at your ass cheek would graze at your puckering hole but never dared to slip inside. all these mixes of stimulations had your eyes crossing, mouth gaping wide which made fucking your throat much easier for geto.

“sweetest cunt i’ve ever had,” he groans in between your thighs, bringing his hand to spank at your wet folds, and your arch your back at the stinging pleasure, your toes curling as your body shook.

the slap at your pussy made flicks of your juices land on his face, and so he landed a few more blows while simultaneously jerking his hips up into your mouth, forcing you down on his cock.

it was all too much— it hurt so good, the strikes at your cunt, his tongue lapping your liquids as he scissored your insides for additional pleasure. how was he expecting you to get him to finish for a second time when he was driving you to the brink of yet again another countless orgasm?

“wanna soak in your juices mama,” he speaks, mouth full of cunt, but you still grasp the message. you subconsciously push your hips back into his face, wanting to abide to his request.

“‘m so fuckin thirsty—don’t you dare be selfish with me. cum in my mouth. be the good girl i know you are and share yourself with me—need it, pretty girl.”

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎.

“y’feel so good, fuck—sucking me in, oh shit baby, never wanna stop fucking you! please, need your pussy always!”

he’d finally gotten a feel of sex for the first time, and he was already hooked. his locks matted to his forehead from sweat trickling down his nose and plopping down onto you.

“wait—slow d-down cho’—hngg!” you moan, nails clawing at his back, scraping and marking the pale skin. you felt your body recoil entirely with each sharp thrust he pounded into your worn out pussy, dragging each and every inch of his length in and out.

your knees were bent at your ears, feet dangling by his head as his hips slammed into the back of your thighs, marking the skin red from the brash contact. the springs from your bed resonated loudly in the room, as did the creaking of your headboard, but nothing topped choso’s loud whimpers.

he’s too lost in his own pleasure, he starts to mistaken to stinging and achy feeling in his gut and loins for a sign to keep going, “never wanna stop—shittt, need to fuck this pretty pussy every. fucking. day.”

you’ve given up on convincing him otherwise, focusing instead on the rise and fall of his hips digging into yours, stretching your pussy open to fit him inside. you creamed around his dick, your essence resting at the hairs on his pubic area, giving him easy access to slide in and out of you.

his arms wrapped around you tightly, refusing to let you out of his grip, one arm beneath your back and holding you from there and the other wrapping around your shoulders. you were stuck in his embrace, bodies moulding into one as you were split open by a fucked out first timer.

in his excitement, he slips out and wastes no time to grab his base and shove it back into a warm tightness, failing to acknowledge your sudden gasp. his mind is clouded with sex, and if he didn’t know better, you were suddenly much fucking tighter, and shit that drove him on edge.

your arms tighten behind his back as you adapt to the sudden intrusion from an area you hadn’t yet explored. “cho—baby wait—mmhm, fuck, that’s my—!”

“‘m gonna cum—fuck y/n, tell me you’re close too. shit, need to fill you up with my cum, please!” the man seals his lips onto yours, panting and begging for this next orgasm, shifting all of his body weight into the hole that keeps greedily latching onto him.

your eyes water as they stream tears down your cheeks. it’s a new and painful sensation, but simultaneously a pleasurable one, and your body granted you the opportunity of yet again another orgasm from the different stimulation. “hah—gonna cum!—make me cum, choso!”

you spray yourself all over, your pussy clenching around absolutely nothing as your ass gets rammed into and fucked like a pro. choso groans and whines against your lips, brows furrowed at the centre of his forehead as he empties himself into your warmth.

“fuck yes—take it all baby, ‘s all yours—need you to milk me and take it all in—your pussy’s the best, i swear to everythin’, shit!”

i am SO tired.

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 2 of 2

(Part 1)

Summary: The thrilling conclusion to Part 1.

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki, Reader gets a little bratty, little bit of a sir kink, cunnilingus, blow jobs, filth.

A/N: I know I usually choose a Loki GIF but Thomas Sharpe seemed…more appropriate. I’ve got a couple more one shots with these idiots, so if you want to see more, lemme know.

Mercifully, the hallway is empty.

You imagine that your exit from the elevator looks as scandalous as what happened inside it. You are draped in Loki’s arms, still out of breath and a little glassy eyed from the two earth shattering orgasms that he’d given you only minutes prior. In contrast, Loki looks relatively put together and intently focused, like there’s nothing more important on this earth than getting you both back to your suite as quickly as possible. That thought gives you a bit of a thrill—the idea of you wanting him is not necessarily new or unusual, but the idea that he might want you just as much is utterly thrilling.

It occurs to you that you’re in rather close proximity to his neck and it seems like a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. You press your lips against the pulse point in his throat and lazily make your way along his jaw. His breath hitches when you catch his earlobe between your teeth.

“Are you trying to ensure that I take you in the hallway, Mrs. Pine?” he says, his voice dropping deep.

“I won’t be able to scream for you in the hallway,” you breathe into his ear, “and I kinda think you want that.”

“Minx,” he growls, picking up his pace just slightly as you resume kissing his neck.

“I take it that means I’m right,” you say. “Or that I’m in for it when we get back to the room.”

He chuckles. “Oh, it’s both, darling.”

You shiver and nip at his earlobe once more.

Loki drops the glamor as soon as the door to your room shuts behind you and while you like the cropped blond hair of Jonathan Pine, there is something about his natural long, dark locks that drives you wild.

“Let’s me make two things clear, Agent,” he says as he carries you into the bedroom. “First: there are no covers in here; I want you screaming my name when you come. Second—” he sets you down at the foot of the bed. “—I want to taste your pretty cunt.”

Heat and tension coil in your hips. “I can agree to both of those things.”

“Good. Undress.”

He watches as you slowly strip off your swimsuit, his eyes greedy and hungry. Once you’re completely naked, he gives himself a moment to look you over in full, unconsciously licking his lips when his gaze falls on your breasts and hips, his eyes devouring every inch of you. Finally, he nods at the foot of the bed. “Sit.”

You sit down on the bed and he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time and you watch, enraptured by the slow reveal of his well-muscled chest and taut, flat stomach. The shirt is discarded on the floor with your swimsuit. He undoes his belt, then the button and zip on his shorts.

He’s wearing black boxer briefs, which surprises you—you had assumed that his preference was likely to go commando. But honestly, the boxer briefs are so fitted that the effect is essentially the same: they cling to every dip and swell and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material is taut across his thighs and his cock strains hard at the fabric. If pressed, you could probably create a reasonably accurate sketch based on this view alone.

You don’t have terribly long to contemplate this, though—he kneels in front of you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, his large hands cupping your breasts. His kiss is thorough and sensual, but the addition of his hands kneading your breasts and gently teasing and pinching the sensitive skin of your nipples may actually send you into the stratosphere.

And then he lowers his mouth to your breast and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. He strokes his tongue lazily on your nipple in slow circles, lightly teasing the hardened bud with his teeth and bringing another flood of slick arousal to your cunt. Your hips rock fruitlessly against nothing, seeking friction to ease the throbbing pulse of your clit.

You sigh, letting your eyes close and your head tip back, your fingers tangling in his hair. After a moment, you reach for his free hand and guide it between your legs. His fingers dip between your legs, collecting your slickness and gently rolling against your clit.

You moan and he draws back, eyes dark. “Lie back,” he says softly.

You recline on the bed and his focus shifts to you spread out before him. “Lovely,” he says. He is being sincere—and there’s a power in that that thrills you, that sends even more heat and slick to your aching cunt.

When he’s looked his fill, he brings both of your legs over his broad shoulders. He lowers his head to your cunt slowly, first dipping down to inhale your scent and then with one wicked grin, slipping the warm blade of his tongue between your folds.

Your exhale is shaky and turns into a soft whine in the back of your throat as he licks a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Loki.” His name falls from your lips unbidden. You prop yourself up on your elbows and drink in the sight of him between your legs, head bowed like he is worshiping at the most sacred and solemn altar.

In the elevator, he was determined to make you come as quickly as possible; now, though, in the privacy of your room, he seems intent on taking his time and building you up achingly slowly. His tongue laves over your clit at a leisurely pace, teasing and tasting and sucking until he finds the rhythm and movement that makes you try to press your quaking thighs together because it feels so incredible. He gently presses your legs back open, keeping you spread and fully at the mercy of the rolling waves of pleasure that his mouth is creating. One of his long and elegant fingers slides inside of you and curls, pressing against that sweet, soft spot that makes your hips buck and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

When a second finger joins the first a few minutes later, you know that it won’t be much longer. Loki looks up at you, lust-glazed eyes glittering like he knows that too.

You approach the edge slowly, your breath coming in rolling gasps, your hands gripping his hair. He watches you, his gaze both hungry and mischievous. You bite your lip, breath stuttering as you furrow your brow against that final ascent.

And then the tension finally snaps and your head tips back as you tumble off the edge and into your climax, your free fall as decadent and shiver-inducing as the beautifully slow buildup.

You don’t manage to gasp his name because the concept of words has fled you entirely and the only sound that escapes your lips is a sharp cry. From the glint in his eye and the low groan of approval offered against your clit, Loki doesn’t seem to mind at all.

The aftershocks roll through you in rippling waves that make your toes curl and it takes you a moment to catch your breath.

“I confess, I’m quite tempted to stay here all night,” says Loki, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. “You have the sweetest cunt.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you say, your words slurred with pleasure.

“Hardly.” He licks you very slowly from your entrance to your clit and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He repeats the same circuit twice more.

“In fact,” he murmurs, placing another kiss on your clit, “I think I may need another taste.” Another lingering kiss, his tongue teasing your entrance. You suck in a shuddering breath.

“One more.” Another long stroke of his tongue and you shiver again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry—” a quick kiss to your clit, “—but I think I’m going to have to make you come again. I'm simply famished.”

Your back arches and you moan as his mouth once again envelopes your clit and his fingers slide back inside you, curling into that soft, sweet spot. You’re a little sensitive, but he’s moving with such achingly perfect precision that you can already feel another orgasm starting to build in your hips.

The ascent is much quicker this time, and you soon find yourself whimpering and panting, your hands tangling again in his hair. He groans against you and you swear you feel the vibrations shimmer all along your aching core.

“Please,” you moan. “Please. I’m so close. Please.”

He lets you ride the edge for a little bit longer, despite your pleas and your iron grip on his hair. But after a minute or so, he seems to take pity on you and he increases his pace just slightly. Your orgasm blossoms in your hips, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you moan his name to the ceiling.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs a moment later, as his fingers coax you through the aftershocks. He looks you over, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” he says, eyes dragging greedily over your body. “Naked and utterly fucked out. Perfection.”

You shiver and slowly convince your loose muscles to allow you to sit up. “I don’t think you can say I’m fucked out if you haven’t actually fucked me.”

His eyebrow arches, “Is that so?”

You scoot to the edge of the bed so that you can run your hands over his firm chest. You press a kiss just above his belly button, tongue flicking out briefly against his skin. “Seems reasonable to me.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, Agent?” he says, his voice dropping low.

“I mean, that’s what I was hinting at, yes,” you say.

His eyes are hooded as he gives you a sly, calculating smile. “But do you deserve to be fucked, Agent?”

Feeling a little bold, you place your palm flat against the substantial bulge in his boxer briefs, running your hand along the hard, thick length of him. Fuck, he’s big. “Yes,” you say.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, his expression and voice deliciously stern despite your hand on his cock. “You’ve been quite pert. Disobedient. Mouthy.”

You think you have an idea where this is going. “So am I getting punished or begging for you to forgive me?” you ask with a coy smile.

The hunger and delight in his gaze makes you ache. “Let’s see what your smart mouth can do to my cock and maybe then I’ll consider fucking you.”

You lick your lips and trace your fingertips along the sharp lines of his Adonis belt, pausing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. You hook your fingertips under the elastic and pull them down.

His cock springs free as the fabric falls to the floor. Between sitting on his lap and the unsubtle nature of the boxer briefs, you knew he was long and thick, but you’re still not fully prepared to experience the full effect of seeing his cock be hard and ready for you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You take a moment to admire him, despite the fact that you know it’s likely only inflating his ego. 

“Do you want me, Agent?” he drawls with a lazy smile. “Do you want my cock?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you say. “In fact, I’m certain you do.”

“Perhaps I like hearing you say it,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

Impulsively, you get to your feet and pull him into a kiss. You can still taste yourself on him—salty and a little sweet.

“You like hearing me talk about how I want you?” you say, pressing your hips against his.

“Very much.” His voice is a low purr and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m aching for you to fill me,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m dripping just thinking about it.” You nip at his lower lip and he groans against your mouth. “But first, I want to get on my knees and worship your perfect cock with my mouth.”

There's a low, pleased rumble deep in his chest and you shiver as you draw away. “Sit down.”

He sits down on the foot of the bed and you position yourself in front of him, standing between his spread thighs and lowering yourself to your knees. You run your hands up his thighs, lightly dragging your fingernails along his skin, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath. You kiss the inside of his left knee and slowly make your way up the inside of his left thigh, dragging your tongue along his skin every so often. You continue this all the way up to the crease where his thigh meets his hip, close enough that he can feel the heat of your breath on his beautiful cock.

And then you lean back and begin the same process again on his right leg.

“What,” he says, his voice going deep and dark, “did I say about playing games, Agent?”

You tilt your head to look up at him. He’s staring down at you with a stern look that makes your cunt clench.

“You know, I came so hard earlier, I can’t quite recall,” you say, making your eyes as wide and innocent as you can.

“And if you want to come again tonight, you’ll find a way to remember,” he says. He’s stern and authoritative, and it’s ridiculously hot. “Now put that smart mouth to work on my cock,” he growls.

“Yes, sir.” The phrase just sort of slips out, but the way it makes your cunt ache and his eyes glitter is absolutely delicious.

“Oh, I like those manners, pet,” he purrs. “I want to hear more of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, pausing to lick your lips, “sir.”

“Good girl.”

His cock is flushed and so hard it presses up against his stomach. You wrap one hand around his shaft and you suck in a breath when your fingers don’t quite meet. He’s huge and the thought of having him inside of you makes you shiver and ache in anticipation.

You stroke him once and lower your mouth to the tip of his cock, placing gentle, closed mouth kisses on it.

He tolerates this for about thirty seconds.

“Agent.” His voice is laced with warning. “I won’t warn you again.”

Your lips curl into a slight smile and you flick your tongue against the tip of his cock, savoring the sharp tang of his pre-come. His eyes glitter down at you, still watching, waiting for you to disobey him.

“Am I not allowed to savor this experience?” you ask, intentionally licking your lips.

“I would urge you to consider that only good girls get to come on my cock, darling,” he says, his voice going dark and deliciously stern. “Choose your next moves wisely.”

The reality is that you desperately want to come on his cock and you wouldn’t put it past him to deny you. So, you offer him a sly smirk before you slowly begin to lick the tip of his cock, gradually opening your lips and bringing him into your mouth.

He groans softly. “You just need a firm hand, don’t you?” he says as you begin to move your head, stroking his shaft in a slow rhythm. His fingers card through your hair as he leans back on one hand, allowing himself to relax a little. “Or perhaps it’s that you want my cock more than you want to be a brat.”

You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He’s not wrong.

He laughs low in his throat. “Oh, I think I’m going to  have you taking my orders by the time the week is up.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You have such a needy little cunt and I rather think that will prove to be an advantage for me.”

Your instinct is to let out a low whine, but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You can’t fully stop yourself from reacting, though, and a soft whimper makes its way out of your lips.

He catches this and smirks. “You like being mouthy and talking back, but I think you also crave a little discipline. Being told what to do gets you off, doesn’t it?”

This time, you do whine and he smiles down at you, eyes hooded. “That works out rather nicely,” he says, his voice dropping deep, “because I quite enjoy giving orders.”

You shiver and he notices, running his fingers through your hair.

“Filthy girl,” he purrs. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” He watches you for a minute, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. “You’re gorgeous like this, too, you know,” he says. “On your knees with my cock in your mouth like a good girl. I could watch this for hours.” You glance up at him and catch his lazy smile. “Though,” he continues, “I suspect you’ll also look gorgeous riding my cock. Or perhaps spread out and tied to the bed.”

This image is too much for you: a high pitched whine makes its way out of your throat before you can think better of it.

“Oh, you like that idea?” he says, not sounding very surprised at all. “You like the thought of being bound and completely at my mercy?”

Another embarrassing whine escapes you before you can stop it.

“We’ll have to explore that some time this week,” he says. “Though I am starting to develop a rather lengthy list of things I want to do to you.”

Fuck. You are caught between wanting him to keep talking and wanting him to shut up so you stop making such embarrassing noises.

Admittedly, the idea of making him feel so good that you render him speechless is also incredibly appealing.

You suck just a little harder, cheeks hollowing as you start running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, swirling it on the tip as you come up.

His eyebrows draw together, his lips parting slightly. “Fuck. That’s it.”

You pick up your pace just a little and he groans, his hand going to grip your hair.

“Yes—just like that.” His grip tightens on your hair. “If your cunt is even half as good as your mouth—fuck, yes, right there—I’m going to have a hard time leaving this room this week.”

You hum against his cock and he groans, his hips starting to rock toward your mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, his voice husky. “Do you like being on your knees for me?”

You moan against his cock, sucking harder.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “Barely an hour and you’re already such a slut for my cock.”

You moan again, bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs. “A bit of a brat to start, but I think I’m going to have to reward you for this. Your mouth is too fucking good.”

Another moan slips past your lips. He groans and is quiet for a minute or two, his hips rocking toward you.

His breath is coming in shaky gasps now. “I’m close, love,” he says, his fingers flexing in your hair. “I’m going to spill myself in your pretty mouth and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

You can’t help but moan, which seems to spur him on. His lips part and you can almost feel how close he is.

He makes the most beautiful noise as he comes, a low groan that seems to reverberate in your cunt as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow his release greedily as you continue stroking him, your head moving up and down his length.

You pull off of him slowly, licking your lips and you look up at him, your mouth curling into a smirk. “So, was that a proper enough apology for you?” you ask.

He growls low in his chest, eyes opening to look down at you. “You are still far too pert for your own good,” he says. “I suspect I’m going to have to put you over my knee at some point this week. You need discipline.”

You suck in a deep breath as your cunt clenches at the possibility.

“But right now, I need to fuck you.” He gestures to the bed. “Get up here. Now.”

You don’t need any encouragement to follow this command, but the way that he delivers the order and the way his green eyes get all steely is enough for more slickness to collect between your legs. You clamber to your feet, but before you can even try getting on the bed, he’s pulling you to him and flipping you onto your back. He rolls on top of you, caging you in with his body, his impossibly hard cock throbbing against your stomach.

He kisses you, tongue pressing into your mouth, hungry and claiming. “Do you want me inside you?” he purrs against your lips. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you say, spreading your legs and tilting your pelvis up toward him. “I want you to claim me.”

His smile is sharp and he drags the tip of his cock along your cunt, coating himself in your slickness. “Still so fucking wet,” he growls.

“I told you I need you,” you murmur.

He lines himself up at your entrance and ever so slowly begins easing into you. He presses forward, inch by glorious inch, until his hips are flush against yours.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe. “You feel so good.”

He smiles and withdraws just an inch or two before pressing back in. You arch underneath him and let out a soft moan.

“How about that? Is that good?” he asks.

You moan and nod.

He repeats the action. “And this?”

You offer up another moan and he grins. He repeats the action again, clearly teasing you. “What about this one?”

“Loki, please—”

“What is it darling?”

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss or slap that smirk right off his face.

“Please don’t stop, please—”

“Oh, you want me to keep doing this?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock confusion. “You should have said something.”

“Loki, please—”

He chuckles quietly and begins rocking his hips against yours in slow, shallow thrusts. You sigh and wrap your legs around his waist, meeting his mouth as he kisses you. You can tell he’s holding back, though.

“I’m not going to break,” you finally say, tilting your hips to rock with his. “I want more. I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you hard and his thrusts lengthen and deepen, his pace increasing just a hair, and you cry out because he’s now hitting that soft, sweet spot and he feels even better.

“You’re taking me so well, darling,” he says. “This snug little cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you breathe, arching your back. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

He wraps those long fingers around your ankles and brings your legs up so that they are draped over his shoulders, your body folded in half. He thrusts again and his cock presses even deeper, rubbing against that tender spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Pressure is starting to build in your hips again.

“You’re getting close already, aren’t you?” he rasps, grinning at you like a devil. “I can feel you starting to tremble.”

You keen, your cunt clenching around his steadily thrusting cock.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?” he growls.

You nod, words somewhere beyond you.

“I want you to soak my cock,” he purrs. “Let it all out. Scream for me.”

You feel yourself poised on the edge. So close.

“Come for me, darling, that’s it, let go, come for me, let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry…”

You arch your back as your orgasm blossoms and unfurls. The sound that falls from your lips is a high pitched keening that would be Loki’s name, except there’s no space for anything besides this incredible feeling, his cock inside you, and the weight of him on top of you.

“Oh there you go, that’s it,” he murmurs. “You have the tightest, most exquisite cunt. I could fuck you for days.”

You moan, shuddering in the final throes, your cunt spasming around his thick cock. He withdraws for a moment and you moan at the loss, but he quickly flips you onto your stomach and slides right back inside you.

From this angle, his cock thrusts even deeper, pressing more directly against your G-spot. A few strokes in and it becomes glaringly apparent to you that you’re going to come again.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he pants, thrusting hard into you. “I can feel you starting to tremble already.”

You moan into the comforter, arching your back so he hits that spot again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest. “I want to hear every filthy little sound that you make. Every. Last. One.” He thrusts in time with those last three words and you moan.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growls, his hips thrusting hard. “You love me taking you from behind like a fucking animal.”

Your legs are shaking and you can feel your orgasm building. “Loki, I’m gonna come again,” you whimper.

“I know you are, sweet girl,” he growls. “I can feel your tight cunt trembling.” His free hand slides between your legs, fingers rolling over your clit in the same rhythm as his thrusting cock.

Your breath stutters and a low whine escapes your lips. You are deliciously close.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a gasp. You’re riding the very edge of that wave and it feels so good that you’re almost certain the oncoming climax couldn’t possibly feel better. Almost.

“Oh, you’re almost there, love, you can do it,” says Loki, his hand still moving with his hips. “You just need to let go.”

You whimper. You are almost there.

“Be my good girl and let go for me,” he rasps. “Come for me.”

It breaks quite suddenly, your whole body shuddering and your cunt clamping down hard on his cock as you come. The noise you make is animalistic, torn from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Fuck!” Loki is fucking you hard, hips pistoning against your ass. “So fucking tight, you’re like a vise when you come, fuck—” His speech gives way into either Asgardian or Old Norse—you’re not quite sure which, but the idea that you’ve made him feel good enough to abandon English is incredibly appealing.

You’re dreamily floating back down from your high when you hear him make that beautiful noise again, that low, deep groan that falls from his lips only when he comes. You feel his release flood your cunt, hot and thick, as his hips finally start to slow.

It’s another minute or two before he rolls off you, flopping down next to you on the bed. Before you even have a moment to miss him or the comforting weight of his body on yours, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You both lie there for a long moment, catching your breath.

You think back to your initial meeting with Fury, when you complained about being sent in with Loki. You’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in your entire life.

“So,” you say once you feel capable of speech, “you said you had some ideas for the rest of the week?”

If you thought his grin was devilish before, it’s nothing compared to what he looks like now as he pulls you on top of him.

“Darling,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[alastorss]

hii!, hope you have a nice day<3, could I request alastor with a VERY VERY ticklish reader? with like alastor giving a hug to reader and him figuring out they’re ticklish (and using it to his advantage, fluff too!♡︎)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has tried everything he could think of, but your mood still hasn't improved.

He's resorted to the most humiliating scenario imaginable: knocking on Charlie's door and asking for her help while grinding his teeth. For you, he's swallowing his pride.

There's no discernible reason for you to be upset, nor has the Radio Demon been successful in finding a way to make your terrible crying stop.

You might as well plunge your hand into his chest and squeeze his heart until it stills. At least then he wouldn't have to feel this horrible ache just looking at your tears.

"Did you offer them their favourite food?"

"Of course I did."

Charlie thinks for a moment, hand on her chin. The Princess of Hell has a whole whiteboard of ideas going on how to make you feel better.

"How about hot chocolate? Hot chocolate always makes me feel better!"

"I don't think that's quite—"

"Oh! I know! What about singing a song? That always makes us feel better!"

Alastor's head tilts. While that was true, he's not sure the sentiment would exactly carry over.

"I... don't think so, my dear."

Finally, after filling the board with countless ideas and subsequently crossing them off, Charlie sighs and flops onto the couch next to him. "I give up. If only they could be cured with your hugs or something."

"... Hugs?"

Deathly silence fills the air as the Princess stares at him blankly.

"You... did try that, right?"

Alastor's ears twitch in lieu of an answer.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You've decided to hole up in your room again.

For whatever reason, it annoys Alastor. He hasn't been able to see your face all day, and as ridiculous as it sounds, he's become quite attached to you.

He doesn't bother knocking, instead opting to slip through the crack of your door in shadows and materializing beside your bed with a dimming smile.

You don't seem to stir at his sudden appearance, apparently used to his shenanigans.

"What do you want?" You murmur miserably from under your blankets, which are coiled up around you while you wallow.

"Come now, darling. It's a beautiful day in Hell! Why don't you join me for a stroll?"

He perches himself on the edge of your bed as you groan and pull the sheets tighter to your body.

"Go away, Al."

"Why, you've been absolutely pitiful, my dear. What's gotten you so down?" Reaching over, he peels the blankets away from your face so he can finally look at you.

There's a familiar throbbing ache of his heart when he sees your tears. When you don't answer, he sighs.

"Would a hug help?" He asks, trying not to cringe. He holds his arms open with a shaky smile. You blink at him with wide eyes.

"... Really?"

He hesitates, but then your eyes sparkle with the tiniest bit of wonder and happiness, so he surrenders. "Hurry and come here before I change my mind."

You shuffle across the bed, abandoning all your blankets and pillows in the process. After you've shed the layers, you slot into his arms.

At first he's stiff as a board, awkwardly patting your back. But then you relax in his arms, melting against him. Smile softening, he pulls you closer into his chest and squeezes.

Giggle.

Alastor's eyes fly open. Jerking back, he looks at you in bewilderment.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No!" You exclaim, slithering away from him.

"Are you... ticklish?" He asks, amused by your flustered expression.

"I'm not!" You lie through your teeth, squirming to put some distance between your bodies.

"Really, now~?"

He suddenly lunges at you, enveloping you again in his hold and purposefully poking at you with his fingers. You burst out into a fit of giggles, writhing to get away from him.

"Al!" You shriek with laughter. Shoving him away, you finally have a moment to catch your breath while you wipe away the tears gathering in your eyes.

Alastor reaches out, gentle this time, thumbs pulling at your smile. He admires it softly. As much as he hates to admit it, just seeing your face lit up fills him with relief.

"That's more like it, darling. Show me your lovely smile."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda (send an ask to be added!)

[rainrot4me]

Show Me How

Summary: You’ve been conditioned to only seek perfection your entire life, but your crush on Mina Ashido is anything but perfect. So when she invites you to a party and gets a little too handsy, she has to show you what you’ve been missing.

Characters: Mina Ashido x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Internalized homophobia, doting, grinding, self sabotage, first time, scissoring, hair pulling, denial, eating out, crying, squirting, nipple piercings, mentions of alcohol

Words: 6.1k

You did not like Mina Ashido. Not at all.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you begged your eyes to look away from her. She was mid squat, barbell resting on her shoulders as she lifted the weight smoothly. The muscles in her legs rippled, contorting under the weight of the bar she was pressing up. And, oh God, her ass. Her shorts were way too short, tight elastic riding up her thighs and leaving little to the imagination, complimenting her curves beautifully. Only when she fully stood up and hooked the bar on the rack did you glance down to the floor, cursing yourself. 

You hated weight room days. As you pushed the dumbbells over your head, you forced your eyes to the ceiling, concentrating on controlling your breathing. But when Mina’s obnoxious laugh rang through the gym, your eyes peeled away and landed on her face, sweaty and flushed from lifting well over 150 pounds. Fuck. You forced your eyes back up, making yourself count the tiles to drown out whatever conversation she was having with Jiro. It didn’t work. You finally gave up, setting the dumbbells on the ground beside your bench and flipping your water open, chugging quickly. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Mina. It was that you weren’t supposed to. You knew you weren’t supposed to. Much like your classmate Todoroki, you were a child born solely for quirk usage, affection a rare thing. From this, your parents expected nothing but perfection. Every grade in junior high was an A or better, every extracurricular activity you participated in was to better your mind or your physical abilities. You even made it into UA on recommendation, skipping the entrance exam completely. Everything you accomplished was nothing short of perfection, but that’s the only way your parents would have it. This stunted your mental health severely. Every mistake was met with severe punishments, giving you no room to grow or flourish on your own. It was either you accepted what your parents planned for you, or you would never make it past a nine-to-five. 

And liking a girl was not in their plans. 

They wanted you to carry their name, bringing heroic children into the world to continue their legacy. You were to marry a hero on par with yourself or better, but never anything less. 

So when you caught your eyes lingering on Mina’s body, or smiling a little wider when she talked to you, or even thinking about her before you went to bed at night. That was a problem. For the first time in your life, you had a problem your parents couldn’t magically make disappear. And it drove you crazy. Now you lived every day of classes begging your eyes not to wander, pleading with your mind not to think of her on top of you, kissing you…

Slamming your water bottle down, you lifted the weights again, thrusting them over your head as you huffed. “[Y/N]?” Shit. You settled the weights on the tops of your thighs, glancing up to see a cute pink face smiling down at you. Mina’s face was darker than usual, but it usually was for a while after she got done working out. Sweat made her coiled hair stick to her forehead, but her bright smile was really what distracted you. “Hi, Mina.” You smiled back, breathing deeply and cursing yourself immediately when you smelled her signature sweet perfume. You were in a losing battle and you knew it.

“Listen. There’s this party that the upperclassmen are throwing to celebrate finals being over, and you’ve gottaaaa go.” She smiled, plopping down on the bench next to you, tapping her feet on the padded ground. “Most everyone from class is going, but I wanted to make sure you knew too.” Her being this close was electrifying. Her white sports bra cupped her tits perfectly, her leaning over to give you the perfect angle to see her cleavage. You quickly glanced between them and her face, begging she didn’t catch your wandering eyes. Your answering nod made her smile, gripping your arm tightly before she stood up. “Okay, okay, I’ll see you tonight.” She giggled, scurrying back across the gym to throw her arm around Jiro and laugh about something unheard. When you finally felt the blush on your cheeks settle, you went back to lifting the weights above your head, drowning out your excitement the best you could.

Before Mina was your crush, she was your friend. And nothing was going to let you ruin that connection you admired so much. No matter how badly you wanted to break the rules your parents set. Before all else, you were a hero. You had to act like it. You breathed deep, straining your muscles as your eyes followed Mina out the door. 

-

Tugging the small dress down around your thighs, you sighed in the mirror, contemplating if this dress looked good enough. Several others were sprawled on your dorm floor, a mess piling up that you were too lazy to clean. You had done your makeup earlier, wiping and reapplying in spots you thought didn’t look good enough. Usually, your appearance wasn’t that important. But tonight, Mina would be dressed out in some way too short dress with her makeup done, and for some reason, you suddenly cared a whole lot about how you looked.

The sun was creeping low outside, a thick wash of orange and pink lighting the sky. You had gotten the rest of the info about the party in a short text from Mina explaining where and when it was. It had started about an hour ago, but your procrastination kept you from being timely. Nejire and some of her older friends were hosting the party in their shared dorm building across campus, but their housing was much larger than your classes. It would be fun. Hopefully.

You slid your earrings into your lobes and took one final look at yourself. Your dress and heels matched nicely, and the small handbag you had mainly for carrying your phone and wallet, still looked cute. This was as good as it was going to get. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you left your room, climbed the steps down to the first floor and pressed through the large glass door to the campus outside. It was already getting dark, the sun just barely hanging above the horizon as stars began to speckle the sky. The night breeze was warm, which relieved you from getting goosebumps all over your freshly shaven legs. Before you could psych yourself out, you hurried on the sidewalk towards the large dorm building across the field. 

-

You could hear the loud music outside of the building before you ever even opened the doors. Small groups of students littered the yard, keeping to themselves in conversations as they threw back cheap beer and vodka shots. You didn’t know anyone yet, everyone was either an upperclassman or a part of some other support course that didn’t mix with the heroes. As you climbed the steps, pulling the large doors open, the chaos of the party slammed into you. 

The common room of the dorm was packed wall to wall with students you didn’t recognize. Third-years made up a big chunk of the crowd from what you could tell. As you stepped inside, more of the atmosphere revealed itself. Groups of students lounged on the communal couches, some in other’s laps or nearly passed out, but most of them were making out. In the kitchen, beer pong games were set up with guys yelling and hollering their excitement. However, most of the party was out in the open part of the floor, dancing and grinding on each other as the loud music thudded through several large speakers. It was wild and loud, with students yelling across the room to their friends or screaming along to the lyrics of whatever song was playing. Flashing colors and lights streamed across the walls and blinded you occasionally. It seemed to be coming from a student’s quirk, their fingers shooting out ribbons of rainbow light in the dark and completing the loud atmosphere. You were immediately overwhelmed, hugging the wall as you slid to the small kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water. 

If there was one thing third-years knew how to do, it was throw a party. You scanned the room, trying to recognize any faces in the dark but finding no luck. Nursing your water, you slowly moved back onto the floor. If you knew Mina, she would be in the middle of the crowd dancing. Exactly where you didn’t want to be. Reluctantly, you pressed deeper into the sea of people, nudging your shoulders in between way-too-close people and praying you’d find someone from your class. Finally, over the huddle, you saw a strike of yellow hair and immediately followed it.

Bouncing along with the loud music, Denki, sweaty and red-faced, was pressed up against some second-year you recognized to be from the foreign heroes department. The transfer student had her ass pressed firmly against him, grinding down with the beat of the song. Gross. Grabbing his arm, you peeled his hand from her hip and caught his attention. “Hey! Have you seen Ashido?!” You had to yell over the thudding music to be able to hear yourself, but Denki still couldn’t. “Huh??” He yelled back, pressing his head down closer to your mouth to hear you better. “Ashido! Have you seen her?!” He pulled back with a confused face, shaking his head and pointing to his ear signaling that he still couldn’t hear. Denki repositioned his hand on the girl’s hips, snugging her ass closer against his crotch and sporting a blissed-out smile. You rolled your eyes, moving to press further into the crowd before feeling Denki pull you back. “Wait! Mina was looking for you earlier! She’s up near the speaker booth!” He yelled, returning his focus to the second year as she giggled against him. Sighing heavily, you pressed towards the table at the front of the crowd with speakers blasting, searching for Mina. 

You heard her yelling before you saw her. Her cute voice squealed as she and Hagakure jumped together, singing loudly as the music blasted in front of them. When her face came into view, it stopped you in your tracks. Her dark eyes were beautifully contrasted with bright makeup, rainbow colors ombre over her eyelids and making her skin pop. Big hooped earrings, a small chain necklace, and… Fuck… That dress. It was black and sparkled against the colorful lights bouncing off the walls. Hugging her every curve, the tight fabric ended right below her ass and was riding up the more she danced, her tits nearly spilling out the same. You could feel the heat on your face the closer you stepped. Every time she jumped her tits bounced so lewdly. But, God, if she wasn’t beautiful.

When she finally caught you out of the corner of her eye, she smiled brightly, her goofy face stumbling over to you in her thin heels. “[Y/N]!” She yelled, throwing her arms around your neck and pressing her chest against yours. It was all you could do not to look down, forcing yourself to look solely into her eyes and she began to sway with the music again. You glanced behind her, Hagakure finding Jiro and making the shy girl her new dance partner. “I thought you weren’t gonna come!” This close, you could smell the vodka on her breath, her hooded eyes answering on how sober she was. “Sorry! Lost track of time!” Lies, you were just too nervous to actually get here on time. It didn’t seem like Mina cared as she was tugging your body with hers to the beat of the music, flushed cheeks bright under the glow of the lights. Other bodies pressed close around you, giving you little room to move besides pressing closer to the drunk alien. 

Suddenly, the song that was playing faded out and a loud rap song you didn’t recognize blasted, sending a few students hollering with excitement. Including Mina, whose eyes blew wide and smile grew wider as she gripped your shoulders tighter. “I love this song!” But before you could respond, she was turning around, pressing her back against your chest and pressing her plump ass against you. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes shot wide, hands stuck at your sides as Mina began to grind her hips back onto your crotch. You didn’t know what to do. Your body refused to move as you felt your stomach twist and knot with excitement. This was bad, this was really bad. But Mina, being the ever-intuitive, recognized your stiffness and leaned back, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Relaaaax! Dance with me!” She slurred loudly in your ear, reaching her hands back to grip your wrists and place them on her hips. She resumed her swaying hips, reaching up to tangle her hands in your hair as she pressed back rhythmically. You were stunned, hands gripping her hips absently as your face blew hot with embarrassment. The girl who invaded your thoughts constantly was grinding on you. The ass you constantly swore yourself for staring at was pressed against you. It felt like your brain was going to explode. Your breathing was shallow, and suddenly the music was too loud. Every time someone brushed against you it was overwhelming, the bright lights becoming blinding as Mina blissfully danced like she didn’t have a care in the world. 

This was wrong. This was all sorts of wrong. Friends weren’t supposed to blush thinking about each other. They weren’t supposed to flirt with each other. And they definitely were not supposed to get aroused when one of them ground on the other. 

Your body was betraying your thoughts. You felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your cunt throbbing, sweat building on your brow in the middle of all the body heat. It was becoming too much too fast, and it became impossible to keep up with the rhythm of Mina’s hips. Panic was rising in your body, your breath becoming sporadic and hard to keep your thoughts straight. You had to get out of here before you passed out. Or worse, gave in. 

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you pushed off of Mina, her instantly spinning around to question you. But you were already pushing through the crowd. You caught the stairs that led up to the dorms and quickly climbed them, cursing your heels as they pinched your feet. Your heavy breathing filled your ears, the loud music and lights slowly fading but your panic was still high. Gripping the first door knob you saw at the top of the stairs, you pushed it open, sliding in and slamming the door behind you. You pressed your back against the cold wood, eyes clenched shut and begging your lungs to steady. This was pathetic. If you couldn’t even handle a party how the hell were you going to handle being a pro hero? The tears streamed down your cheeks before you even knew they were there, fists clenching into your dress as you quietly sobbed. The music of the party was muffled, loud base still thumping the walls in rhythm with your pounding heart. 

Several minutes passed when you caught your breath, the tears on your cheeks drying up and staining your skin. You felt the knocking on the other side of the door, breath hitching as you pressed off the wood. “[Y/N]?” Shit. Mina knocked again, her sweet voice laced with concern. Maybe if you didn’t respond she’d leave. “[Y/N], open the door.” She pleaded, knocking again. Defeated, you gripped the knob and turned it slowly, staring at the ground as Mina’s face came into view. She immediately stepped in, closing the door behind her and closing off the rest of the party with it. Keeping her distance, she crossed her arms, face twisted with concern. “Are you okay? What happened?” She was still obviously tipsy, but the seriousness in her voice overrode any fear she might be teasing you. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly very self-aware of how stupid you must look with mascara running down your cheeks. But Mina didn’t care, you knew she wouldn’t. 

“I don’t know… I panicked, I guess.” You mumbled, rubbing your hands over your arms as you refused to make eye contact with her. She sighed, stepping forward and gripping your wrists to drag you to the bed. Sitting on the edge, she sat close to you, hand rubbing soothingly across your shoulders as she spoke. “Panicked about what, hun?” You shut your eyes, embarrassment gripping you at the nickname. She didn’t use it often, but when she did, it tore you up. Your hands fiddled with each other, your fingernails picking at your calluses and pulling the tight skin. “It’s stupid. I just got worked up.” Mina sighed, sliding her hands to grip yours and stop your fidgeting. She leaned close, making you face her as she smiled. “I promise you, whatever it is, it’s not stupid. Talk to me.” 

If this was going to be a battle of determination, Mina had already won. Even before you caught feelings for her, she was always so quick to force the truth out of you when you were upset. It was like her second quirk. She was just that trustworthy. Or manipulative. You weren’t sure which one.

You took a deep breath, her hands gripping yours tightly. “You dancing. It just got me worked up.” You cringed, staring down at your hands interlocked with hers and sighing. She immediately perked up, panic striking her. “Oh my God. I’m so so so so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfor-” Before she could freak out, you gripped her hands tighter, holding them close to your chest and cutting her off. “No! No, I promise it’s not you. It’s like, uh, the opposite, I guess.” You were jumbling your words, trying your best not to make a fool of yourself. “It just, like, got me too excited. I just freaked. You were just so pretty, and, uh- Like I said, it’s stupid.” You closed your eyes, wishing you could just disappear to your bed and never face her again. But she was way too quiet. Peeling your eyes open, you met her shocked expression, her eyes wide and staring you down. You said too much.

You let go of her hands, quickly standing up and apologizing. You went to grab your bag, gripping the door handle, but Mina was quick to stop you. She stood, grabbing your arm and forcing you to face her, her face even with yours. You both stared at each other, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you refused to move, but never looking anywhere else. She gripped both of your arms tightly at your sides, an anchor against the storm inside begging you to fight her. It was like just by staring into your eyes she could read your every thought. Her dark eyes made your breath shaky, the intensity of her stare making you flustered. 

“[Y/N].” She spoke softly but sternly, her glossy lips soft compared to her wild makeup. You closed your eyes, her voice breaking your trance as you shook your head. This couldn’t happen. She gripped your arms tighter, her sharp nails scraping against your skin. “Look at me.” She cooed, rubbing her thumb against your goosebumped arms. You shook your head harder, refusing. You couldn’t let this happen. You knew if you opened your eyes and saw her pretty face, it would be over. But you had worked too hard. You worked hard to get into UA, to get into the top class, and to perfect your quirk. You couldn’t throw away everything your parents had built up for stupid feelings. But as Mina’s fingers brushed up your arms, scratching against your skin, you couldn’t think of a reason why not. 

Every day, you struggled to resist her. You avoided staring at her for too long, forcing your eyes down to the ground anytime she was near. You made sure to punish yourself for every lewd thought you had of her, lifting extra weights in the gym to tire yourself out. But the one thing you couldn’t stop, no matter how hard you tried, was hearing her voice. Before you went to bed, when you got really desperate and slid your hands between your thighs, the only thing you could think of was Mina’s soft voice talking you through every move. It was like a curse. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t come to anything else. So you gave up on touching yourself entirely, but that did you worse than it did good. You were always on edge, always irritated at your slightest mistakes. But with her in front of you, voice cooing in that same tone you imagined she would use late at night, the butterflies in your stomach betrayed you. 

“[Y/N].” She cooed again, her voice closer this time. Giving in, you slowly opened your eyes. You were met with those big dark eyes, colorful makeup blinding your vision. You were way too hot, face burning as you knitted your brows. You flicked your eyes quickly between her eyes and lips, unsure of what you were supposed to do, but Mina was already guiding you.

Sliding your bag off your arm, she tossed it to the ground and slid her hands to your wrists. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders, she slid her hands down to your waist and rubbed gently, smiling softly. “It’s okay.” She sighed, gripping your waist tightly and forcing your hips to press against hers. But it wasn’t okay… right? Staring down at her glossed lips, you tried to think of some reason you couldn’t. But nothing came. Nothing but her face slowly pressing closer to yours and your thoughts screaming in your head. 

Until you felt her soft lips press against yours. And everything just went quiet.

Your eyes slowly fluttered shut, arms gripping tighter around her shoulders to support yourself. It was like you couldn’t control your body anymore. Your lips moved eagerly against hers, tasting the sweet gloss coating them and moaning at the taste. She rubbed your waist tightly, following your lips as they engulfed hers and moved with the rhythm you set. The negative thoughts didn’t come anymore. All you could think about was how good she tasted, how soft her skin was. She got rid of all the bad. 

Before you lost your breath, you pulled back, shallowly panting against her chest. Mina only gazed at you, a soft smile radiating against her flushed skin, reassuring you. “I… Uh-” You started but were interrupted with her lips pecking against yours. Pushing you back, your knees hit the edge of the bed and buckled, Mina quick to straddle your legs and wrap her arms around your neck. You immediately went stiff, but her soft strokes across your shoulders eased that familiar tension. “So… were you ever gonna tell me you liked me?” She smiled, littering your cheeks with kisses as she spoke. You rested your hands against her hips, her dress riding up as she spread her legs and gave you a sly view of her lacy thong. Tearing your eyes away, Mina brushed her fingers through your hair, peppering kisses down to your jaw and stopping on your neck. Chills ran down your spine, small whines escaping your lips as she slid your dress strap off your shoulder and began to suck on your skin. “Mina-” You groaned, gripping her hips tighter. Her curly hair brushed against your skin, tickling your chin before she let off of your neck and brought her face back to yours. 

“Unzip my dress.” She smiled, wrapping her hands around your wrists and sliding them behind her. Your face flushed dark, stomach twisting with excitement as you searched for the zipper and pulled it down, her straps falling off her shoulders. She hooked her hands under her dress and pulled it over her head, her matching set of lacy purple underwear and bra making your jaw drop. She giggled as you stared, her tits perched right in front of your face and spilling over the cups so beautifully. Mina tossed her dress to the floor, wrapping her hands around your back and unzipping your dress the same, helping you slide it off and tossing it. “So cute…” She giggled, fiddling with the straps of your bra as you gaped at her, face stunned against her body. Up close, her pink skin was so pretty. Dark sunspots littered her shoulders and chest, dark pink freckles complimenting nicely. She was so beautiful.

Mina resumed her place on your neck, kissing and sucking the skin as you groaned. With sudden bravery, you wrapped your hands around her hips and gripped her plump ass in your hands, kneading the flesh softly. She smiled against you as her hands tangled into your hair, tugging lightly the harder you gripped her ass. This was more than you could ever think to dream of. Farther than you ever thought you’d get. If Mina decided right now that she was done, you could die happy knowing you at least got to feel the ass you longed for every day. 

Sliding her arms around your back, she fiddled with your bra clasp and snapped it open, sliding your bra off your shoulders. She leaned back, admiring them as she giggled. You blushed deeply, suddenly very aware of yourself as her fingers began to pinch at your nipples. Your breath hitched, hands quick to unclip her bra and slide it off the same. What you didn’t expect were the two tiny silver barbels pierced through each nipple. It made your cunt throb. You gripped her wrists, pulling her wandering hands from your tits and leaning close to hers. You breathed deep, her sweet perfume thick on her chest as you mouthed over her right nipple, sliding your tongue over the cold metal and sucking gently. Her answering moan made your heart flutter. You gripped her other tit, kneading the mound in your hand as Mina gasped, little whines answering for every brush of your tongue. You realized that you really liked that sound. 

Tugging your head off her tits, Mina crashed her lips back against yours, pressing your back down against the bed. She trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, and soon to your abdomen. Goosebumps followed her lips, little gasps and whines answering for every kiss as she got closer to your panty line. Mina glanced up at you, sticking her tongue out and licking a long stripe across your belly button and giggling when your mouth fell open. She enjoyed teasing you as she hooked her fingers under your panties and pulled them down, your face flushing dark as Mina laid face to face with your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat as she pushed your thighs apart, kissing along the insides and stopping right before she reached your folds. She held eye contact with you, reaching her hand under your thigh and intertwining her fingers with yours, gripping reassuringly. “Relax. Just let me make you feel good.” She grinned, dipping her head down and spreading your folds open with her warm fingers. Slamming your head back on the bed, you deep a deep breath and close your eyes, excitement shooting wires all through your body.

When you felt Mina’s warm tongue lick a thick stripe through your folds, you could’ve came right there. You gripped her hand tight, her little squeezes keeping you from freaking out as she continued to press her tongue against your clit. Her fingers kept your lips spread apart, flicking her tongue on your throbbing clit and smiling every time you flinched. “Doing so good, hun.” She hummed, pulling back to rub her thumb over your soaked clit and making you squirm. She dove back down, wrapping her arm around you thigh and digging her nails into your skin, pulling your legs apart. You were soaked, cunt throbbing as Mina pressed her tongue against your entrance and pushed deeper, tongue sinking into you wonderfully. Gasping, you immediately spread your legs further, craving her tongue to press deeper. Her tongue curled against your walls, lapping up your ecstasy and making your arch your back. You slid your hand down, tangling your fingers in her coiled hair and brushing against her jagged horns. When her tongue pulled out of your cunt and her lips began to suck on your clit, your fist quickly wrapped around her horn and pulled her head closer, a loud moan following. Sliding her hand to your cunt, Mina ran her fingers through your wetness and pressed against your entrance, curling her fingers up immediately and sending you writhing. She pumped shallowly, warms fingers curling tightly against your walls in time with her lips against your clit. Your back was arched fully off the bed, fist gripping her horn tightly and fingers wrapped around hers assuringly. With the intensity of it all, Mina was also gentle, constantly looking up to gauge your reactions and holding your hand to keep you stable.

“I’m go- oh my god- Mina-” You gasped, teeth gritted and eyes shut tight as her fingers coiled against your walls, her fingers pulling you closer to your orgasm. Besides on your own fingers, you had never came to anything else. Orgasms were just a way to relieve your stress, helping you stay more focused and keep your mind of off useless horny things. But now, falling apart on Mina’s fingers, it felt different. There was this tension building up in your core, your cunt throbbing with every curl of her fingers and your breathing getting uncoordinated. But it felt so good. “Mina- Please-” You writhed against her, knees trying to press together. With one last deep curl of her fingers and her tongue flicking against your clit, your stomach tightened and your walls clenched down hard. Warm liquid squirted from your cunt, soaking Mina’s lips as she lapped up the odd feeling cum. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as you moaned loudly, fist gripping down tightly on Mina’s horn as she rubbed you through your orgasm. When she popped off your clit, her mouth was covered in your ecstasy, her blissed out expression lovely as she licked her lips clean. 

But before you could catch your breath, she was already sitting up and pulling down her panties, her own arousal evident from the stain between her legs. She kicked her heels off, pulling yours off as well and tossing them down before she pressed your legs back. She sat up, throwing a leg over yours and slotting herself down against your throbbing cunt, clits pressed firmly against each other. You whined, still sensitive from her tongue as she began to grind her hips down, her folds slotting against yours and quickly scissoring you. You had only ever seen this position in the porn videos you convinced yourself to watch, but experiencing it was far better than you could’ve imagined. Mina’s hips grinded down hard, clits nudging against each other and making you both moan loudly. She slotted her hand under your knee, holding you leg for support as she jerked against you, chasing her own ecstasy. 

Mina’s eyes were rolling, her soft lips hanging open as she arched her hips rhythmically. She was so gorgeous, her makeup slightly ruined and smudged across her eyes from her flustered state. She skin was glistening with sweat, her moans singing loudly with yours the faster she thrusted. You could already feel your orgasm coming, her clit rubbing yours and making you gasp loudly. Mina was close too, her moans becoming more high pitched the longer she went. You slid your hand up, cupping her tit in your hand and tugging at her nipple, playing with the barbell. She whined, biting her lip hard. “Yeah, fuck yeah. Just like that hun, shit.” She moaned, her nails gripping your leg tightly as you pinched her nipple in between your fingers. “Feels sooo good. Gonna come on your pussy. Gonna fuck you so good, hun.” She babbled, voice high and whiny as she ground shallow and fast against your cunt, clits throbbing and twitching. 

Your stomach tightened as you pulled her nipple, your cunt swollen and on the verge of orgasm as you stared into Mina’s flushed face. “Come for me. Come on-” You groaned, bucking your hips up and rubbing in time with her. That was all it took to make Mina’s eyes roll, her nails digging into your skin and her voice crying loudly as she came against you. You felt yourself coming apart as well, your hips stuttering as your warmth mixed with hers, moans echoing. Your legs clenched against each other, Mina flopping down on top of you and breathing quickly against your chest. You held her close, laying her beside you as you both came down from your intense highs, a fucked out smile on your face. 

Mina’s eyes fluttered, her forehead pressed against yours as she caught her breath, breathing deep before opening her eyes to yours. “Oh my God, [Y/N].” She smiled, wrapping her hand around your head and tangling her fingers in your hair once again. You both giggled, naked bodies flushed red and pressed close together while you just admired the other. Both of your makeup was ruined, hair messy, and brows sweaty by the time you settled down. “I’m glad you like me too…” Mina smiled shyly, pressing her lips against you cheek. You stared at her, in awe of just how beautiful she was. “Oh, you have no idea just how long I’ve dreamed of even getting to kiss you.” You laughed, hands wrapping around her waist and rubbing against her hips gently. Just laying there, breathing in each other’s scent, you finally felt content. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had made a decision that you wanted, not what your parents wanted. You were so afraid before, so afraid of messing up or disappointing them. But as Mina’s eyes fluttered shut against the muffled beat of the music downstairs, you knew you wouldn’t give her up no matter how many insults they threw your way. If loving her was wrong, fuck being right.

-

Days had passed since the party. You shuffled through the halls of UA in your uniform, heading towards the cafeteria for lunch, your stomach growling as you hauled your backpack over your shoulders. When you felt warm hands slip around your shoulders, you smiled widely, raching to interlock the fingers with yours as you continued to walk. Mina wrapped her arms around yours, pressing herself close as you smiled to eachother, discussing classes and what you hoped they had to eat. 

Since that night, Mina hadn’t left your side, her fingers always interlocked with yours and letting everyone know just how happy she was because of it. She was helping you break down your walls your parents had so carelessly built up, poking at the deepest parts of you and releasing emotions you never knew you needed to. Her bubbly personality matched your calmness perfectly, and anyone could see just how happy you made eachother. 

When you felt another arm wrap around you shoulder, you turned, startled as Neijire nestled herself between the two of you. “So. Who’s going to buy me new sheets? Heard yall had a little fun in my room.” She smiled teasingly, pulling you both close as you continued to walk. You eyes shot wide, cheeks flushing deep as Mina’s stunned expression met yours. She slapped her hand over her mouth, holding back her laugh as you cringed to Neijire, shrugging your shoulders coyly. Mina threw her head back, laughing loudly through the halls and catching attention from other students. Neijire burst out laughing as well, hugging you both close as the two girls laughed each other to tears. As you sighed, you glanced to Mina, her bright smile radiating against her pink skin, her cheeks rosy with giddiness.

God, you didn’t deserve her. But you damn sure would never be ashamed of her again.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[robilover]

Jane Doe (ZZZ) NSFW Headcanons !

pairing(s): jane doe x fem!reader

cw: fingering, gagging (fingers used), strap-on use, dom!jane doe, men and homophobes dni.

a/n: I can’t help it, she’s so UGHHH I CAN’TTT I FUCKING NEED EHR I need her to fuck me silly guys you don’t understand

is it just me, or does jane doe have such thick fingers.. NO BECAUSE LIKE I CAN’T HELP BUT NOTICE THEM PLS

for me, she’s a stone top. always in control no matter how much you try to dominate her. she wants you to be at her mercy and you absolutely have no room for arguments.

her fingers look thick and a bit long, so it’d fill you up so good that you’d become a moaning mess with just her fingers alone.

I feel like, with just two of her fingers, you’d feel so full already. she absolutely loves how your tight walls clamp onto her fingers that the feeling would make her moan.

she loves to pin you against the wall or bend you over a table just so she could fuck you with her fingers. she’s like, 5’7, and I feel like she has a size kink. so, if you’re shorter than her, she uses it to her advantage to press you up against the wall with her body while she fingers you so good. but if you’re taller than her, she does not care at all; she will still be pressing you up against the wall and bend you over.

oftentimes, she uses her fingers to gag you in order for you to keep your voice down while being knuckles deep into your pussy. she’d even whisper sweet, dirty things into your ear, telling you how much of a good girl you are for taking her fingers so well.

when she’s in a more mischievous mood, she brings a strap-on and looks for you so she could use it on you. and when she does find you, good luck, because she’s going to make you see stars.

I just really think that jane doe loves to fuck you up against the wall with your legs around her waist as she pounds into you with her strap. she’s a strong woman, so carrying you is not a problem for her.

she can be gentle, but most of the time, she’s rough. she just can’t get enough of you that she’d get feral over you.

oh right, her tail! there will never be a time that it won’t be coiled around your body. may it be around your leg or your waist, but her favorite body part of yours to have her tail wrapped around with is your leg while she’s inside you.

hearing you moan her name is like music to her ears that she can’t get enough of. it only turns her on so much that she becomes addicted to them and to the point that she won’t stop until she’s satisfied, even if you cum countless of times and beg her to stop because it’s getting too much for you. you can take it; you can take her, right? after all, you’re her good girl and she needs to have you <3

[pin-k-ink]

shadows // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ possessive!hoshina, strong sexual tension, semi public fingering, nipple play, biting, hair pulling, slight asphyxiation, dirty talking, making out

wc ⇢ 7.8k

a/n: this is for the lovely anon who loved my ruination fic <3

The acrid scent of smoke and kaiju blood hung thick in the air like a suffocating miasma. Hoshina's nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath, the familiar tang of ozone and charred flesh doing little to dull the thrill still thrumming through his veins. His body felt electrified, every nerve ending still fizzling in the aftermath of battle's adrenaline spike.

Lazily, almost meditatively, Hoshina's gaze traced the ravaged landscape - rubble and viscera as far as the eye could see. A hard-won victory once again, but one that came at a cost chalked up in the newly formed craters pockmarking the streets. His lips quirked faintly at the sight. Just another day's work.

Amidst the wreckage, a familiar figure stood out in sharp relief, their combat suit leaving little to Hoshina’s imagination. He knew the toned curves and compact power coiled beneath that sleek, form-fitting material all too well after countless sparring sessions. A slight hitch stalled his next inhalation as Hoshina’s mind forcibly recalled exactly how it felt to have that whipcord strength undulating against him, slick skin gliding along his, breath intermingling in harsh exhalations of exertion.

Shaking off the inappropriate reverie with a mental scoff, Hoshina returned his attention to studying you dispassionately. At least, that was the intent before his gaze snagged on the subtle sheen of perspiration beading along the elegant column of your throat, tracing a tantalizing path towards the shadowed hollows left temptingly exposed by your suit. He found himself unconsciously licking his dry lips as he drank in the tiny details - the way your chest rose and fell with each controlled inhalation, the part of your lips as you tersely relayed information, the furrow of intense concentration etched between your brows.

Completely and utterly focused on the task at hand, oblivious to your audience...or the heated direction his thoughts had abruptly detoured down. Again.

Shaking his head sharply, Hoshina wrenched his traitorous mind away from that particular path before it could wander any further. What was wrong with him today? This was his trusted squad mate - his friend, more like an annoying kid sister most days than anything else, if he was being honest. Continuing to blatantly ogle you like a piece of meat left a sour taste in his mouth, an unfamiliar itch of discomfort prickling at the back of his neck.

And yet, even as Hoshina pushed those inappropriate thoughts away, he found his feet carrying him inexorably nearer with that same lazy, rolling gait. Something underlying those reckless musings had taken hold, an ember burning with increasing intensity the closer he drew to your presence. By the time he sidled up beside you, an easy smirk was already curving his lips as he drank in the way your shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly before your spine straightened with rigid formality.

"Oi, [Y/N]-chan," Hoshina couldn't resist drawing out the affectionate lilt, purposefully exaggerating the syllables just to nettle you further. "Ya plannin' on documentatin' every grain o' rubble all night? Might wanna breathe between those reports."

True to form, you bristled at the half-mocking jab, eyes sparking in that fiery way Hoshina secretly reveled in provoking. Another tiny thrill licked down his spine at the brief lapse in your consummate professionalism as you sputtered with ill-concealed affront. The faint bloom of pink dusting your cheeks was an added dollop of sweet cream atop the taunting sundae.

A part of him knew he shouldn't bask in unravelling those tightly wound threads of control so gleefully. Not when years of tempering that internal furnace into an asset on the battlefield had clearly become an uphill struggle of late. Yet Hoshina found he couldn't quite muster any scrap of remorse for his relentless needling. Not when it provided such enticing glimpses beneath the rigidly professional veneer...

He felt his grin stretch wider, all cocksure bravado, entirely unprepared for the sudden flare of want—no, possession —that pulsed through his veins like a thermobaric detonation when your eyes finally lifted to meet his squarely.

You turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise as if you'd forgotten he was there. "Vice Captain," you acknowledged with a quick nod. "I'm just ensuring all the details are properly documented. It's crucial for future—"

"Future missions, data analysis, blah blah blah," Hoshina interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The unconscious gesture drew his gaze downwards, pupils dilating fractionally as they traced the elegant lines of your neck, the hollow between your collarbones where a bead of perspiration had collected. He could practically envision the path it would take down your cleavage, trickling tantalizingly along the sensitive dip before disappearing beneath the sleek material hugging your chest. Hoshina swallowed hard, abruptly hyper-focused on the subtle rise and fall of your breasts, the nearly imperceptible sheen of exertion still lingering on your flushed skin.

"Ya sound like a broken record, ya know that?" he managed to force out, gaze skating back up to your face as he ruthlessly clamped down on the sinful direction his thoughts had begun meandering. Except his eyes instantly fell back to your lips, that full pout left slightly parted as you drew breath to reply.

Hoshina’s mind unhelpfully supplied a vivid recollection of those very lips a hairsbreadth from his own after one particularly intense spar session. He'd had you pinned beneath him, chests heaving with the lingering thunders of exertion as your eyes met and held in the electric aftershocks of battle's intoxicating thrill. Your lips slightly parted as you gulped down air, face flushed, pupils blown wide and dark as a solar eclipse. All it would have taken was the slightest tilt of his head and...

The memory scattered like optics glare dispersing as you huffed out an exasperated breath. Hoshina physically wrenched his gaze upwards, anger and frustration warring with the steadily smoldering embers of pure, undiluted want rapidly reducing his higher functioning to tattered ruins.

Just what in the ever-loving fuck was happening here? This was you - solid, stalwart, ever-reliable and determined [L/N]. The rock steady foundation his division depended upon, certainly, but hardly someone who made a habit of hijacking his libido so thoroughly. At least, not until recently.

When had that shifted, exactly? When had the sight of you begun igniting this strange, magnetic pull low in his abdomen rather than mild exasperation? Or was this driving lust something new, catalyzed by the smoke and viscera of combat and simply fixating on the nearest convenient target as an outlet?

Whatever the reason, Hoshina recognized that this unexpected thread of complication between himself and his most trusted subordinate could easily unravel into a tangled disaster if left to unspool unchecked. Especially with you still obliviously lecturing about protocols and debriefing procedures as if the very air didn't hum and sing with unreleased sexual tension.

"-thorough documentation is essential for—"

"For keepin' ya from actually livin' a little, seems like," he cut across your next torrent of words, fighting to reassert his usual laidback aloofness even as his pulse thundered like rolling artillery bombardments. Unconsciously, Hoshina invaded your personal space, not consciously trying to crowd as much as resorting to tactics long engrained. Pressing an advantage, denying the enemy ground...

Except there was no enemy here besides the jarring, elemental drive that had inexplicably roused itself within the eye of the storm that was your undivided attention. Hoshina felt his nostrils flare as your familiar, intoxicating scent enveloped him in palpable, tactile waves. Earthy and green, tinged with a faint smokiness and the slightest undercurrent of something floral that he'd never managed to put a name to.

"When's the last time ya actually relaxed, [Y/N]-chan?" The endearment rolled off his tongue without thought, honeyed and thick like a physical caress ghosting across your sharpened senses.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by his probing question. "I... I relax," you defended weakly.

Even to Hoshina’s ears, the words rang hollow - a reflexive denial undermined by the taut lines of your shoulders, the minute twitches of muscle betraying your body's ingrained conditioning. He found his lips quirking upwards in a slow smirk, dark appreciation uncurling deep in his core at your admittedly pathetic attempt to deceive. As if either of you could be so easily misled after decades of coded language and subtle tells ingrained into your very bones.

"Oh yeah?" he purred, purposefully pitching his tone low to shave away any lingering aloofness. Letting you hear the silky undercurrent of challenge thrumming through each syllable as plainly as a physical strike. "Prove it. Come have a drink with me."

The flare of your eyes, dark pewter sparking to life behind those ridiculously long lashes, told Hoshina all he needed to know. He didn't bother suppressing his growing smirk, secure in the knowledge that he'd already landed a critical blow without raising so much as a fist. Your surprise was quickly subsumed by the familiar furrow of consternation overtaking your brow, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish as your mind instinctively scrambled for protocol, for procedure, for anything to deflect the utterly disarming idea he'd presented.

"Now?" You sputtered at last, sounding almost painfully young despite the steel undertones bred from years of combat conditioning. "But sir, the clean-up crew—"

"Can handle things without ya breathin' down their necks," Hoshina easily overrode your feeble attempt to reassert control over the situation.

Shooting you a pointed look from beneath lowered lashes, he reached out with studied nonchalance and plucked the commlink from your fingers. You flinched minutely at the contact, whether from surprise or simple tactile overwhelm he couldn't tell. But it was enough to make something predatory lurk at the edges of his smirk as he brushed aside your instinctive move to protest.

Rotating the slim device between his fingers, Hoshiro made a show of reestablishing the open channel with base, keeping his deep timbre a study in pure insouciance. "Okonogi, change of plans. [Y/N] and I won't be needin' that transport. We're makin' our own way back."

It was only after ending the transmission, effectively severing your official tether to duty and responsibility, that Hoshina allowed the molten heat banked in his depths to bleed overtly into his stare. His gaze raked over you slowly, deliberately, as if peeling away every layer of propriety with surgical precision until only the panting core remained exposed and quivering in the open air between your parallel stances.

"Now then, [Y/N]-chan," he murmured, dipping his voice into a low, gravelled octave carefully cultivated to shave away the last vestiges of resistance. Of self-control. Hoshina didn't miss the minute bob of your throat as you swallowed shakily, nor the way your widened eyes became transfixed by the sweep of his tongue wetting his lower lip.

Yes...that's it, doll. Let go.

The endearment hung unspoken yet palpably present as he took a calculated step closer, near enough to feel the erratic puffing of your breaths ghosting across his jawline. Close enough to drown himself in the delicious, rapidly building torrent of heat and want and sheer undisguised awareness he could sense thrumming through you in increasingly apparent waves.

Close enough for Hoshina to see the wild thundering of your pulse in the hollows of your neck, the dilated slivers of your pupils rapidly devouring irises that had long since been swallowed into the deepest onyx in thrall to his physicality alone.

He could end this now, finally. Could close that last infinitesimal distance separating your parted lips and swallow your shocked exhale with his own. Finally slake this brutal, wild thirst he could no longer deny or contain with anything less than total possession.

Instead, Hoshina forced his features to smooth into an expression of wry geniality, a faint mockery of good humor crinkling the corners of his eyes as his hand lifted to brush away some errant speck of debris from your shoulder. The innocent gestured belied by the deliberate, searing trail his fingers trailed in their wake, lingering with irrefutable intent along the line of your clavicle before dropping away completely.

"What do ya say we go find out if ya even remember how to have fun?" Each word was carefully measured, deceptively light yet daring you to discern the subtleties of challenge, of promise , that danced like shimmering heat waves through every syllable.

At your side, Hoshina’s hands had fallen slack, utterly unthreatening and open in contrast to the rigid control with which he kept the rest of his body angled minimally away from yours. An intentionally decentralized posture, leaving you an option to disengage without any hint of menace or physical coercion.

Just words. Simple, innocent words to confuse the raging bonfire of pure, undiluted want scorching through his veins with every shuddering inhale of your scent, your aura, your presence.

The ball, as they said, was in your court now. All Hoshina could do was hold that burning intensity burning in the depths of his gaze and wait for your inevitable deflection...

Or surrender.

The walk to the nearby bar passed in a heated silence, the air thickening with every measured stride. Though Hoshina strode slightly ahead, his legs setting an unhurried pace, he couldn't quite shake the blazing awareness of your presence trailing just behind.

It prickled along the back of his neck in a shivering tingle of hyper-sensitivity, the fine hairs dusting his nape seeming to rise in anticipatory alertness with each scuff of your boots against the pavement in his wake. Shallow inhalations parted his lips infinitesimally, persistent wisps of your subtle floral essence intermingling with the metallic tang of combat's aftershock already coating his senses.

The juxtaposition was jarring - the visceral reminder of hard-won victory at odds with the gradually encroaching softness teasing the edge of Hoshina’s consciousness. Without even realizing it, his body had already recalibrated to a new, heightened state of somatic priming. One that shifted his senses onto an entirely different theatre of operations altogether.

One distinctly centered around you.

But he mustn't get ahead of himself, not yet. Not when there were still miles left to trek in this strange new territory you'd found yourselves navigating. So instead, Hoshina reined in those scorching impulses with a reflexive inhale, focusing on meticulously maintaining his usual front of casual aloofness as you stepped up beside him.

"Figured you could use a break from keeping those grunts in line all the time," he tossed out, not glancing over as you fell into step just off his shoulder. "Maybe even cut loose a little for once. You know, as a reward for not getting any of them killed back there."

It was a poor attempt at deflection through needling, Hoshina knew. But he couldn't seem to resist sliding a sidelong look at you through the shellac of his lashes, gauging your reaction to the barbed remark. Not that he had any delusions of you rising to the bait, of course. If anything, he fully anticipated you straightening your shoulders in silent rebuke before mechanically rebutting with some impeccably by-the-book rundown of proper conduct and procedures.

Which made the tiny smirk that began tugging at the corner of your lips all the more disarming.

"That all depends on how you define 'cut loose,' Vice Captain," you murmured without even sparing him a glance, tone laced with an edge of playfulness Hoshina couldn't recall ever hearing from you before. "For all you know, I could be an utter wildcard behind closed doors."

The words hung in the air, dangled like ripe fruit begging to be plucked from the vine even as your strides carried you onward in sync. Hoshina felt his brows hiking upwards despite himself, the vivid flare of surprise and interest alike crackling to life in his veins. Since when did you engage in this sort of shameless baiting? More importantly, since when had you mastered that particularly lethal combination of coy indifference and blatant suggestion?

He was gaping, he realized abruptly - standing slackjawed in the middle of the street like a minnow gulping at air while you continued on unhurriedly. As if you were utterly unaware of the punishing right hook you'd just landed squarely on his sense of propriety, not to mention his composure.

Snapping his mouth closed with an audible click of teeth, Hoshina hurried a few steps to realign himself by your side, shooting you a sidelong look rife with newfound curiosity. Up close, the slight curve to your lips was even more inscrutable, your expression carefully neutral save for the glint of challenge flickering in your lowered lashes.

Well, two could play at that game. Hoshina refused to let you rattle him that easily, refused to betray any outward sign of the conflagration you'd abruptly stoked somewhere south of his ribs. Instead, he pressed forwards in a silence that stretched just shy of uncomfortable, trusting his body to communicate all the unspoken implications and undercurrents his words could never fully articulate.

At least, not without shattering the gossamer threads of tension enveloping you both in that shivery, electrically-charged stasis entirely.

The bar he led you to was a familiar haunt, if not necessarily one you'd expect. From the outside, it looked like any other nondescript watering hole - a hole-in-the-wall tucked away on a side street just far enough from the main drags to avoid an excess of foot traffic. Shadows, the place was called. Though whether as a nod to the infernian faction or merely the dim, cozy ambiance, not even Hoshina could recall.

As you stepped over the worn threshold, however, a far different atmosphere seemed to permeate the very air surrounding you in a tactile weight of obscurity. Of anonymity.

The lighting inside Shadows was kept deliberately dim and muted, all flickering candle arcana and soft ambers that sculpted the contours of every surface into hazy, indistinct planes. Every solid edge blurred subtly into peripheral smears of suggestion rather than sharply delineated shapes, even the small crowd of patrons scattered throughout appearing more like roiling plumes of vapor saturating the air.

Perfect for shedding the concerns of the outside world in exchange for an altogether different existence - one fueled solely by pursuit of the senses and catered pleasures of the flesh in all their myriad forms. Hoshina had indulged in his fair share during the infrequent stretches of downtime his duties afforded, though tonight marked the first time bringing a...guest, so to speak.

He shot you a sidelong look as your steps slowed infinitesimally, no doubt drinking in the smoky, incense-tinged atmosphere for the first time. An alluring flush clung to the high arches of your cheekbones already, whether from the abrupt shift in ambiance or something more inscrutable. The tiny darts of pink flame dancing across your skin mesmerized Hoshina, widening his pupils further with each passing second.

Catching himself, he cleared his throat softly, careful not to shatter the sanctity of hush draped over the room. "Suppose it goes without saying, we aren't exactly in polite company here at Shadows."

His murmur pitched low, thrumming against the shell of your ear like a heated caress. Close enough to make you shiver minutely in response as he trailed a hand along the small of your back, guiding your steps through the swirling currents of muted sound and motion.

Hoshina placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards a secluded booth in the corner. The simple touch seemed to burn straight through the thin material of your suit, raising goosebumps across your skin. You found yourself hyper-aware of the heat radiating from his palm, the slight calloused rasp catching on the fabric in a way that made your pulse kick up instinctively.

As you slid into the shadowed nook, the cushioned bench dipped beneath your weight, cradling you in a nest of dimly-lit intimacy. The flickering candles adorning the table seemed to cast Hoshina’s features into sharp reliefs and soft curves in turn, the constant shifting dance of light and shadow mesmerizing. One moment his jaw would be etched into harsh angles, only for the next breath to soften everything into a melted, honeyed mask of smoldering suggestion.

You swallowed hard, mouth abruptly dry as Hoshina settled himself across from you, movements radiating an unhurried sort of grace usually reserved for stalking predators. His gaze openly roamed across your form, hooded and lingering in a way that made you want to squirm under the weight of such unabashed appraisal.

"So, [Y/N]-chan," he rumbled after a protracted moment, the rough timbre bleeding straight through your sternum to resonate in hollow, thrumming echoes against your ribs. Hoshina cocked his head slightly, the simple motion shifting the play of shadows to cast his eyes into flickering hollows of smoky invitation. "What's your poison? And don't you dare say water or I might have to report you for insubordination."

The low purr of his voice curled through the air like a physical caress, silken promise roughened into wicked taunt by the rasp of his native Kansai burr. You couldn't quite stifle the shiver that traced down your spine in its wake, nor the way your lashes fluttered under the onslaught of such unabashed temptation cloaked by irreverent humor.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir," you managed to murmur by sheer force of will, proud of yourself for keeping your tone level despite the sudden reemergence of that damnable flush heating your cheeks. "Surprise me."

It was a risky move to issue such an open-ended challenge, one your tactical mind instantly began dissecting and mapping out potential vulnerabilities. But the way Hoshina’s full lips curved higher at the corners in a quicksilver flicker of unholy delight instantly made the risk feel more than worth any imagined cost.

He leaned back against the low bench, forearms bracketing his sides as he stretched those long limbs out in an exaggerated picture of casual ease. The subtle shift in position drew your gaze helplessly to his broad shoulders and chest straining against the thin fabric, every metabolic shift of his body suddenly thrown into stark, intimate relief.

When Hoshina spoke next, his voice seemed to radiate directly from the iron-hewn column of his throat, scraping like rumbling granite scored across granite. "Now where would be the fun in that, hmm?"

The simple question hung in the smoky air between you both, lingering like an opiate fog made solid and potent. Hoshina held your widening stare easily, a tiny spark of challenge flickering to life in the lavender depths as his tongue stole out to wet his lower lip in a move of unconscious, blatant provocation.

You couldn't look away, utterly transfixed and helplessly pinned by the heavy-lidded heat singeing through his stare. Brief flashes of half-formed fantasies sparked in the hazy recesses of your mind - images of straining, bare flesh and ragged gasps intermingled with the roaring of your pulse thundering in your inner ear.

Then, as quickly as it seized you, the moment passed with the appearance of your drink gliding across the table's battered surface. Blinking rapidly, you broke free of the thick, headily-charged tension with a sharp inhale, refocusing your gaze to the bartender's retreating form while sternly marshaling your composure.

"Let's see if we can't loosen you up a little, [Y/N]-chan," came the low rumble from across the table, his husky timbre dripping with layers of unspoken implications and promises.

Shooting Hoshina a sidelong look through your lashes, you lifted the glass and took your first sip...

You savored the smoky burn of the liquor as it trickled down your throat, letting the pleasant warmth bloom outwards from your core. Across the table, Hoshina’s eyes seemed to smolder even brighter as he watched you with undisguised appreciation, his own glass forgotten for the moment.

"Not bad, right?" he murmured after you'd drained the last swallow. With a subtle gesture, fresh drinks appeared as if by magic, the dim lighting casting flickering amber highlights across the broad plane of his chest.

You tried not to let your gaze linger, though the way Hoshina lazily stretched and resettled himself made it extremely difficult. There was an edge of blatant satisfaction in his expression, a silent challenge sparking in the glint of his eyes that made you wonder just how premeditated this little foray truly was.

Lifting the fresh glass, you took another slow sip to buy yourself a moment's reprieve from those piercing violet eyes. The taste was richer this time, more complex notes of oak and spice unraveling across your tongue. You couldn't resist darting out to capture an errant droplet that clung to your lower lip, despite the way Hoshina’s gaze seemed to blaze even hotter at the unconscious gesture.

"Now," he drawled after a beat of heated silence, "how about we just...talk?"

You blinked at the unexpectedly casual suggestion, straightening a bit in your seat. "Alright. What would you like to talk about, Vi—" You caught yourself before letting the formal title slip, mouth snapping shut as a flush crept up your neck. "...Soshiro."

His name on your lips without any honorifics felt startlingly intimate, sending a shiver skittering across your skin. The way his eyes hooded at the sound didn't help matters, that perpetual half-lidded bedroom stare dragging you down into unknown depths thick with tension and secrets.

"First off," Hoshina rumbled, deep voice rolling over you in a velvet caress. "How about something simple?" One broad shoulder rose and fell in a languid shrug that made your mouth abruptly dry. "What d'ya like to do for fun, [Y/N]-chan?"

The innocent question caught you completely off guard, both from its disarming simplicity and suggestive undercurrent as he held your gaze steadily. Your first instinct was to rattle off details about your usual training regimens or combat preparatory routines. But something in the heated air surrounding you both made you reconsider revealing the full extent of your dedication to the Defense Force, at least for the moment.

So instead, you opened your mouth to offer some benign response about reading or meditating...only for the words to die unspoken as Hoshina’s tongue stole out to wet his lips again, slow and deliberate. Your attention zeroed in helplessly on the tiny gesture, watching the way his mouth glistened in the dim candlelight.

"Well?" His voice dragged your eyes back up with a start, the lids now heavy and hooded in a way that liquefied your thoughts. "I'm waiting for you to tell me exactly what gets ya excited, [Y/N]-chan."

You sucked in a sharp breath at the blatant innuendo laced through his words, the husky purr curling deliciously low in your belly. Hoshina cocked one eyebrow in a wordless challenge, his lips curved in the faintest of smirks as he leisurely swirled the contents of his glass.

The thickening silence stretched as you struggled to formulate a response through the heated fog rapidly clouding your mind. Just what exactly was his game here? And more importantly - did you even want to indulge this escalating provocation, consequences be damned?

One look into those blazing indigo depths, now glittering with naked hunger and keen intelligence, told you the answer even before your mind could catch up.

Your tongue stole out to moisten your dry lips, watching in satisfaction as Hoshina’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You know," you began carefully, each word seeming to wrap around the both of you like layers of finest silk. "For all your talk earlier about loosening up...I'm not convinced you truly grasp what that means for me, Soshiro."

His name emerged rich and savored, a purring taunt of challenge issued beneath lowered lashes. You allowed the implication to hang heavily between you for a stretched breath before continuing in a lower, throatier tone, "—Unless, of course, you'd like me to show you?"

The muscles in Hoshina’s throat bobbed convulsively as he swallowed, hard. His free hand drifted up to rub along the stubbled line of his jaw, eyes burning straight through you with smoldering intensity. For a suspended heartbeat, he made no further movement, no affirmation of your thinly veiled offer save to simply drink in the sight of you with undiluted focus.

Then the hand dropped away, and Hoshina was leaning forward with leonine grace, braced on both forearms as he closed the distance between your bodies.

"By all means," he growled, lips curling in a slash of wicked invitation. "Enlighten me, [Y/N]-chan."

The challenge hung searing between you in the smoky dimness. You could practically taste the heated tension sparking in the scant space separating your bodies, a heady blend of whiskey and simmering desire. Hoshina’s eyes bored into yours with an intensity that stoked molten tendrils of want coiling low in your core.

"Well?" His graveled rumble sliced through the silence like a whipcrack, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. "I'm waiting for this supposed enlightenment, [Y/N]-chan."

You fought back a reflexive smirk at the undercurrent of impatience bleeding into Hoshina’s tone. So the great Vice Captain wasn't as unflappable as he pretended to be. Good...that just made this little game all the more intriguing to play.

Keeping your expression carefully neutral, you drew the moment out with a slow blink and even slower inhalation. You caught the way Hoshina’s nostrils flared infinitesimally as your subtle movements, dragging in the thickening clouds of arousal and sin swirling around your hushed alcove.

"Patience was never your forte, was it?" you murmured at last, letting your lips curve in the faintest of smiles.

You didn't miss the way Hoshina’s jaw tightened fractionally, another hairline fracture splintering across that impeccable veneer of nonchalance. Holding his heated stare, you brought your glass up in an affected sip, letting the smoky liquid trickle decadently over your tongue before swallowing with delicate care.

When you finally spoke again, your voice had dropped into a lower, throatier register thrumming with unspoken promises. "If you want me to...enlighten you, Soshiro, you're going to have to earn it."

His sharp inhalation was quiet yet clearly audible in the smothering intimacy of your nook. You watched in satisfaction as Hoshiro's pupils blew wide at your blatant provocation, feeling a lick of triumph at finally rattling him. Shifting slightly, you allowed one knee to brush against his beneath the table in a featherlight caress calculated for maximum impact.

Sure enough, Hoshina’s body reacted in a reflexive tightening, every tendon and sinewy muscle coiled like tripwires under his tawny skin. His eyes, however, remained locked on yours in a heated battle of wills, the irises now eclipsed into blazing amethyst embers ringed by inky black.

"Is that so?" he rumbled after a strained moment, the words seeming to shave against his clenched jaw. The hand braced on the table flexed minutely, fingers splaying in the barest aborted twitch before curling into a tight fist. "And just what did you have in mind, [Y/N]-chan? Some kind of...test?"

He somehow managed to imbue the final word with equal parts challenge and smug certainty of victory. As if you were nothing more than another combat scenario mapped out in his mind, every potential obstacle and pivot point already neatly dissected. As if there was no chance of you emerging the victor through sheer tenacity and underestimated resolve alone.

You arched a single brow at Hoshina’s boldness, feeling a frisson of mingled indignation and undeniable arousal sizzle through your veins. Always so confident, so unflappable in the face of adversity...until you thoroughly demolished those smug assumptions time and again.

Well, if the great Vice Captain felt so assured of besting you at your own game, you'd simply have to dial up the intensity. Push past the flirtatious banter and thinly veiled wordplay to a threshold Hoshina had yet to truly encounter.

"A test of sorts, I suppose," you acceded, letting your shoulders roll in an exaggerated shrug of nonchalance. "Though I'd ask that you refrain from treating this as just another playacted scenario, Soshiro. After all..."

Here you leaned forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, near enough to feel the erratic gusts of his quickening breaths across your mouth. When you spoke again, your words emerged in a throaty purr that vibrated straight down to his very core.

"...I don't plan on playing by any rulebook's constraints tonight."

With that, you abruptly sat back, leaving Hoshina frozen and body taut as a live wire in the wake of your retreat. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw, the only visible sign of how deeply those last words had scored. You didn't try to suppress your triumphant smirk this time as you reached for your glass once more, allowing a flash of devilish delight to dance across your features.

"So?" you prodded after a beat, thoroughly reveling in having the upper hand for once. At least for the moment. "Are you willing to put that ego on the line, Vice Captain? Or will you forfeit before we even begin?"

The molten challenge sparked and smoldered in the heavy air between you, undulating in tempo with the flickering candlelight. For one suspended heartbeat, everything hung in tantalizing suspension as the gauntlet was thrown down with audacious finality.

Then Hoshina blinked, tension shattering like glass scored straight through his formidable self-composure. His lips peeled back in a ferocious slash of a grin, eyes burning like banked amethyst fire.

"I'm going to make you beg before this night is over, [Y/N]-chan," he promised in a low, sandpaper growl. "And not for mercy."

A tremor of undisguised anticipation rippled through you at Hoshina’s low, graveled promise. You felt heat bloom across your skin, a delicious frisson of combined exhilaration and challenge sparking bright in your veins.

This was quickly evolving past the bounds of casual banter and suggestive badinage. No, you could both sense the unmistakable undercurrent of tension ratcheting up another notch entirely - a wildly spiraling game of provocations and reactions with no clear path or endgame in sight.

Just pure, unadulterated want slowly stripping away all remaining propriety and inhibition until only the raw, primal need remained.

You held Hoshina’s burning stare for a protracted moment, letting the heat shimmer and intensify between your locked gazes. Then, purposefully, you dropped your eyes in a slow perusal down the powerful column of his throat. Over the broad, heaving expanse of his chest just barely concealed by thin fabric. All the way to the junctures of his hips barely visible above the table's edge.

It was your turn to lick your lips, letting your tongue sweep out slow and deliberate while holding Hoshina’s focused attention. You felt a lick of satisfaction at his sharp inhalation, the subtle tightening along his jaw as his eyes followed the path of your mouth with undisguised hunger.

Yes, let him stew in the rapidly simmering heat for a while longer. Let him chase that high of anticipation, of wanting something badly enough to burn from the inside out. He'd had the upper hand for far too long with his usual nonchalant arrogance and deflective taunts.

Now, it was your turn to dangle the prize of satisfaction just out of reach, keeping Hoshina teetering on that razor-edge of control through every torturous moment.

Sliding one hand across the sticky surface of the table towards you, you tilted your chin down as if suddenly shy beneath the weight of that smoldering violet stare. You waited a beat, letting the heavy atmosphere condense further before darting your tongue out again to wet your lower lip.

Then, with exaggerated nonchalance, you started toying with the zipper pull at the hollow of your throat, giving the smallest of tugs.

The effect was instantaneous. Hoshina sucked in a sharp breath, the tendons in his throat jumping convulsively as the hand splayed on the table clenched into a tight fist once more. You caught the abortive shift of his hips beneath the concealing tabletop, the instinctive forward lean that his torso quickly aborted back to a slouch of feigned ease.

Still, you didn't lift your eyes to his, keeping your focus solely on your hand as you toyed with the zipper's metal tab. One infinitesimal tug at a time, incrementally revealing the barest tantalizing strip of flushed skin glistening with perspiration. You let out a tiny, breathy sigh of fake overstimulation, merely to ratchet the torment.

That seemed to be the final straw for Hoshina’s rapidly faltering restraint. With a low, visceral growl that sent skittering tremors racing across your hyper-aware nerves, he was abruptly kicking the table aside with enough force to rattle the flickering candles. In the next blink, Hoshina had maneuvered himself from across the table to directly at your side, one iron-banded arm snaking around your hips to haul you bodily against him.

You didn't even have a chance to so much as squeak in surprise before Hoshina’s free hand was clamped around your wrist, stilling the tortuous descent of the zipper with ease. He leaned in so close, surrounding and enveloping you with the scorching heat of his body and heady, earthy scent of combat sweat and man. When he spoke, his lips grazed the feverish hollow of your pulse in a blatant possession.

"I wasn't aware we'd reached that stage of the evening already, [Y/N]-chan," Hoshina growled, low and dark and dripping with unholy promises. His next words seemed to shred directly against your convulsing throat. "Unless you're simply making this too easy..."

With a twist of his wrist, Hoshina applied the barest amount of pressure on the trapped zipper pull. Just enough to ease it down another tantalizing fraction, revealing another sliver of feverish skin and the hint of lace lying just beneath. His touch was featherlight, yet it scorched a blazing path from your wrist straight down to your rapidly contracting core all the same.

A soft whine slipped free before you could stop it, a plea and demand all twisted into one soundless vibration. Hoshina’s only response was a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating against your cheek as he nuzzled closer still, thoroughly invading every single one of your precious personal spaces.

"Easy there," he rasped against the swell of your jaw, tongue lashing out to taste your thundering pulse in a blatant spark of possession. "Can't go havin' your pretty suit disintegratin' before the real fun's even started, now can we?"

Hoshina’s broad frame curved around you possessively as his fingers toyed with the zipper tab at your throat. You held your breath, trembling finely, as he deliberately inched it downwards with agonizing slowness.

"Look at you," he rumbled in a low rasp against the heated skin of your neck. "Already coming undone just from this..."

You let out a shuddering exhale as another tantalizing inch of feverish skin was gradually bared to Hoshina’s smoldering gaze. The metal teeth parted with a rasping whisper, allowing the barest glimpse of the lace-edged swell of your breasts peeking into view.

Hoshina growled something wordless and approving against your thundering pulse. You could feel the vibrations skittering across your hypersensitized nerves like tiny sparks, stoking the banked coals of arousal glowing brighter with each passing moment.

"Do you have any idea," he murmured darkly, "how long I've wanted to unwrap you just...like...this?"

Punctuating each word with another fractional descent of the zipper's path, Hoshina nuzzled his stubbled jaw over the exposed juncture of your neck and shoulder. His tongue swept out in a scorching, openmouthed caress that had your fingers spasming against his immovable frame.

"Soshiro..." His name emerged as a breathy whimper despite your efforts at control. You felt more than heard the low, thrumming chuckle vibrating against your stripped skin in response.

"That's it, [Y/N]-chan," he growled, the roughened timbre seeming to shave against your senses with delicious friction. "Let me hear how much you need this..."

Another scant inch of zipper parted with a whisper, baring the tops of your breasts in their lavender-scented swell. Your head lolled back against the solid support of Hoshina’s shoulder, eyes squeezing shut in a haze of white-hot sensation as his lips traced searing paths across your collarbones.

Desperate, needy keens were tumbling from your lips in a constant stream now as Hoshina’s wicked mouth blazed lower inch...by...scorching...inch. Soon you were trembling like a livewire amid the cradle of his corded arms, entire world contracting to each indolent sweep of his tongue and graze of blunted teeth.

Coherent thought was rapidly becoming nothing but ash and ember swirling in the bonfire engulfing your senses from within. You burned, burned with a wildfire of molten need unslaked no matter how Hoshina stoked the flames ever higher with each agonizingly slow pass of his hands, his mouth—

Just when you thought you would surely disintegrate into cinders, Hoshina wrenched his mouth away with a low growl that seemed to vibrate straight through to your core. You cried out at the loss, eyes flying open in a desperate, panting daze, only to be pinned by the endless depths of hunger blazing in his onyx-drowned gaze.

"Easy there, [Y/N]-chan," he rumbled after a steadying breath, the words seeming to drip like molten sin against your sweat-dampened skin. One hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb tracing your swollen, parted lips in a claiming caress you could feel throughout your entire body.

"We've got all night to relearn what makes you come undone..." Hoshina’s grin slashed across his features, dark and full of wicked promise. "...and beg for more."

You could only keen helplessly as Hoshina pressed his thumb past your slackened lips, sinking deep in a blatant parody of the things you both craved. The rough pad grazed the softness of your inner cheek, pressing down against your fluttering tongue in a silent command.

His eyes were utterly blown now, twin pools of midnight edged by the faintest ring of burning indigo. Your lips closed around the intruding digit, sucking and swirling with a moan of undisguised eagerness. Hoshina growled, low and primal, as his hand flexed in the cradle of your jaw.

"Gods, I'm gonna wreck you for any other man," he snarled against your fevered skin. You shuddered in a ripple of goosebumps at the dark promise, the sheer force of desire radiating from his every pore.

Then his thumb slipped free with a lewd, wet pop, only to be replaced a split second later by the scorching press of his mouth. You whined into the searing kiss, opening to the insistent sweep of his tongue. Your own curled around the hot muscle, suckling and twining in a filthy dance of lust and greed.

Hoshina swallowed your gasps, devouring them along with every ounce of resistance left in your trembling body. His hand shifted from cradling your jaw, sliding down to wrap around the column of your throat instead. He squeezed gently, applying just the slightest bit of pressure that made your head swim with renewed want.

When you finally managed to drag yourself up for air, you were trembling from head to toe, the zipper of your suit now pulled completely free of its metal tracks. The top half of your suit was gaping open, baring your breasts and torso in their entirety.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to find Hoshina already watching you, his chest heaving visibly with exertion. His pupils were blown wide, a mere ring of smoldering amethyst eclipsed around bottomless black. The hand cupping your jaw slid lower, curling around the exposed curve of one breast.

He gave a gentle squeeze, drawing a keening whine from your throat as his thumb traced over your peaked nipple. His gaze never wavered from yours as his head dipped lower, until the rasp of his stubble scraped against your sensitive skin in an open-mouthed, possessive claim.

You moaned, loud and shameless, as Hoshina's teeth latched onto your nipple, tugging lightly as his tongue laved over the hardened peak. Your entire body trembled with the force of your arousal, the raw need throbbing low in your belly.

Hoshina growled against your breast, the sound reverberating straight through your sternum, as his free hand slipped down the gaping vee of the uniform. It danced over your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Then lower still, teasing over the top band of your panties.

You arched into his touch, desperately seeking more. But Hoshina refused to be rushed, his lips and tongue continuing their assault on your other nipple. When his fingertips brushed ever-so-lightly against the aching bud of your clit, you cried out, only to be immediately silenced by the bruising crush of his mouth on yours.

His tongue invaded with a savage growl, the fingers teasing at your folds increasing their pressure until you were writhing uncontrollably against his grip. Then, without warning, Hoshina's mouth ripped away from yours, the hand tangled in your hair yanking back sharply to expose the vulnerable curve of your throat.

"Be fuckin' quiet," he hissed in your ear, the words barely more than a ragged whisper. "Unless ya want to have an audience..."

Your breath hitched, a jolt of pure heat searing through your core at the suggestion. Hoshina growled again, the sound reverberating straight down your spine as his fingers finally sank home. You bit down on your lip to stifle a whimper, eyes squeezing shut as his thick digits stretched you mercilessly.

"Fuck, you tightened right up at the idea," he murmured, low and filthy. "What, you want the rest of the bar to watch while I fuck ya into oblivion, hmm? Wanna show them just how good I make ya feel?"

A fresh surge of liquid heat spilled over his fingers, prompting another low chuckle. "Oh, I see..." Hoshina leaned in close, his stubbled jaw rasping against the flushed curve of your cheek. "So, if I told ya to get on yer knees and suck my cock, right here, you'd do it, wouldn't you? You'd let everyone watch ya take me down that pretty little throat."

His words sent a wave of molten want spiraling through your veins, the mental image of being used, claimed, in front of an audience setting every nerve ablaze. Your inner walls fluttered around his thick digits, hips grinding against his palm as the coil of pressure building within tightened another notch.

"Maybe next time, then," Hoshina promised, low and husky. "For now, I want ya nice and quiet while I ruin this pretty little cunt."

His lips crashed into yours, swallowing your cry as he curled his fingers and sent you careening straight into white-hot oblivion. You trembled, writhing, as your release ripped through you, every single neuron set alight with the force of it.

Hoshina growled his approval into your mouth, working you through the shattering climax with unhurried strokes and nipping kisses. As the aftershocks subsided, he gently eased his fingers free with a lewd, wet squelch. He broke the kiss then, holding you steady against the broad wall of his chest as you sucked in greedy gulps of air.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before Hoshina was hauling you back against his body, fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back into a straining curve.

"I'm not done with ya yet," he growled against the curve of your exposed throat, stubble rasping deliciously against the oversensitized skin. You felt his cock twitch, heavy and thick, as it pressed against the cleft of your ass. "Not even fuckin' close."

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ:

DAILY CLICK • BOYCOTT TLOU • DONATE

please do not skip over this! continuing to support palestine in any way possible is much more important than reading any piece of fanfiction.

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊: 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏

knight!abby x princess!reader

summary: your plans to usurp your despotic brother are halted when he assigns one of his strongest knights to keep an eye on you. what will wither and what will blossom in her presence?

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, political elements, fem afab reader, princess reader is manipulative, extensive descriptions of blood and violence, graphic depiction of murder, subtle enemies to lovers (more so in next chapter), degrading terms used in a non-sexual manner, insults, profanity, probably ooc?, not edited, reader discretion advised

a/n: this is HEAVILY inspired by The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri. this song is the atmosphere i was going for if you wanted to listen while reading!! dedicating this to @catfern, love you <3

wc: 4.7k

The corpse-quiet hours before dawn settled over the world with the languidness of dripping wax. There was a tenseness to it, beneath the silence, the twinings of a tautly strung instrument. You could smell it on the breeze too, a lick of disturbance carried sharply on the air alongside the fragrance of jasmine and rose. This night was a thing too tender for imminence, you thought, as you watched off-white petals scatter across pristine marble.

You felt it in your bones first, as it reverberated through the night. It felt like rolling thunder across the mountainside, but it was far too regimented to be birthed from mother nature. No, you knew this sound as intimately as your own heartbeat. 

Hoofbeats. Steadfast, almost urgent, as they ascended towards the palace. Through your balcony, you could see a sea of them, clad in the pure white of moonlight and the gold of dawn. At the very front jostled a garish carriage swathed in the same colours, flying your nation’s flags. You stepped further out onto the balcony. A retinue, a homecoming. Your brother has returned.

Of course, ease slid through your veins at the fact that it was not a darker reality encroaching, but it curdled instantaneously, soured by the notion that you would merely be a marionette tugged upon and prettied up in order to appease him. A dutiful princess, you would play the part of orator, musician, perhaps finally bride to a stranger if the King and all his attendants had his way. What were you but a flower with an endless array of malleable petals to be arranged this way and that? 

You drank in the perfumed scents that swirled around you, a sigh passing your parted lips. The silk curtains of your suite lifted like a breath, the solid colour broken apart by somebody familiar, whose chest rattled for the solace of fresh air.

Your features did not falter as your eyes remained fixed upon the retinue fast approaching. The girl, one of your many pairs of watchful eyes,  strode towards you, sweat upon her brow, a worrisome crease at the youthful corner of her lips. You remained fixed as you felt the brush of rough parchment against your smooth palm.

Politics was a game played by degrees, after all. It demanded quiet, the slithering of a black-belllied snake in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to coil around its prey and squeeze. You let the paper unfurl against the wind, let it flap in the air as you read word upon word scrawled onto the page with an unsteady hand.

You knew what you hungered for, the prey that dangled just out of reach above your open maw. It glistened deepest oceanic blue cast in gold, and it sat safely atop of your tyrannical brother’s head.

Like all noble daughters, you knew that patience was a virtue. Things did not fall easily into your lap, so you would have to work for it, a dog searching ceaselessly for a single scrap of bone. You would let the meat of the empire simmer, wait until it was your turn to have your fill.

The parchment began to crinkle under the ferocity of your grip as your brother flashed through your mind. His smile, all canines. The cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface of that untarnished exterior.

With a fiery savagery singing in your veins, you silently declared that his crown would be yours.

        𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The day’s last light was beginning to wither away, its last breath sweeping across the courtyard below and setting it ablaze. The air that seemed like an extension of your own lungs the night before was cloying now, pollen stuck in the crevice of your throat and tightening it with fist-strength.

There were certain things you expected of your brother, but this…

Your eyes flitted from the balustrade to the woman who stood just behind the gauzy silk draped across the doorway. She had a straight spine to match the strength in her features. Slight aquiline nose, plump lips, and those eyes, crystalline blue but honed from years of slinking, silent observation.  There was no denying the touch of regality woven throughout her being. If somebody had said she were an empress from some distant land, you would have believed them.

It wasn’t such an extravagance that granted you with her presence, though. A white cape threaded with gold was draped around her armour-laden shoulders. There was a sword at her hip, but the breadth of her body alone was enough to make anybody hesitate.

This woman, whose body was carved for the gruesomeness of the battle, was to be your watchful knight, under oath to quash any harm that may arise. 

A bitterness rose from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. Sworn protector. The words thrummed in your skull like jailer. It was clear from her unbroken gaze alone where her loyalties were placed, at the feet of your brother and your brother alone.

You were the first to break your eyes away, demurely, subtle but unerringly feminine, and more importantly, inferior. Your spine was straight, but you hung your head slightly, letting your eyes wander along the outline of lush greenery below. Your hands skimmed along the finery that swathed your body. You appeared reticent and meagre, but every minute movement was deliberate on your part, a dance in which you knew all the steps.

Her shadow of a presence was a setback, certainly, something to keep you at bay, but if you wove the right tale, spun an intricacy of honeyed words and laid syrupy sweetness upon her… this one, like any other, could be used, moulded and rolled like clay with the right pressure. All you had to do was locate a chink in her armour. 

You gave a hesitant pause, counted to three, until you walked the expanse of the balcony, back into your quarters, the tinkling of weighty jewellery sounding with each step you took. Even closer, she appeared much more powerful, the jagged lines of her face schooled into sternness. The refusal to drop her gaze in the presence of her new lady sent a shiver down your spine.

“Abigail.” Your voice was gentle, the lulling of a flute. “I am grateful for your service. To my dear brother, of course, but especially to me.” You stepped closer to her, but remained at a polite distance, a benevolent smile gracing your lips.

Her face remained the same, but there was a slight quirk to her thick brows. She was used to doing bloody work for the King, but you could tell that she was unused to interacting with royalty.  “My loyalty is to the crown. I would do anything His Majesty asked of me, princess.” Ah, what a well trained response. As expected of one of the most renowned weapons in your brother’s arsenal.

“Yes, and it warms my heart.” You ensured your smile widened, your eyebrows softening in tandem with the lovely upward curve of your mouth. “I have heard stories of your bravery. To have such a hero protect myself alone… well, it feels rather a waste of talent, does it not?”

Her lips parted for a moment at the steer in conversation. You could see the hardness melting from her face like butter, replaced by an expression unreadable. It was too early to tell whether there was now a weakness to strike at, but it was better than talking to the righteous facade of her. “My talents can be just as useful in the Royal Palace as they would be on the battlefield.” Her words were as certain as solid stone, unmoving in their conviction.

“Such a noble heart you have.” You let the distance close between the two of you, then, your body just a few mere inches away from steel. Your hand met the one at her side, soft fingers grazing across leather, the cool hilt of her sword brushing against your knuckles. “But you do not need to protect me. Guards swarm this palace, after all.”

You expected abashment, the averting of that steady, unbreakable gaze, but not so much as a twitch of her fingers was drawn out of her. Still, you pressed on, as a thumb circled a spot on her gloved hand. “You would be better suited to attacking any threats at the root, dear knight. I could arrange you to be back where you once were. Not here, not with me.”

These lies, this faux flattery, left your tongue with the ease of second nature. You had none of the power you wished to possess, and you could not fulfil any such promise to her, but a few sweetened words could at least put you in her good favour, string her along for at least for a few moments outside of her obstructive gaze.

Something flashed across her features, but it was not the distant yearning for battle, not even the consideration of your hefty offer. You felt her thick fingers slip, gently, out of your grasp. Shock burst in your chest when her lips curled into a smile. Not completely unkind, but belittling all the same.

“The way we view honour differs greatly, princess.” Her mouth shaped the words slowly, deliberately and they hung in the air like an accusation. The last of the sun filtered through the balcony, causing the stray hairs framing her face to shine gold, the dust of freckles on her cheeks to appear like a smattering of starlight. You were once again struck by the wondrous beauty of her, a blow to the ribs. 

You urged the swell in your guts down hastily.

“Is it so dishonourable,” you started, choosing to focus instead on that same jagged ambition that ate away at you, “to desire glory for oneself?”

The eyes that you thought resembled a pristine shoreline now darkened with the implications of your question. You watched as the storm passed across her face, as the act of noble knight swallowed her whole once more. 

“Glory means nothing if it is not for the sake of serving the King.” She finally averted her gaze to the rolling gardens below. 

“Our King.”

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

Thunder rippled across the charred night sky, the rain beating against the earth with the ferocity of a thousand rapid heartbeats. Your quarters burst white and fizzled with each lightning strike, and you could see the dozing face of Abigail each time. She laid, with one arm cradling the back of her head, in a cot at the foot of your bed, her golden-brown lashes long enough to cast wispy shadows on the apples of her cheeks under the inconsistent light. Even in her sleep, she seemed to be withholding herself from you, despite the stretch of days you had spent together thus far.

Beneath the writhing rage that clawed at your insides, you felt a soft pang, something faint and unfamiliar, for this woman. She was forced to live her days, in utter numbness, waiting for an attack on your life that would never come. She was here to intimidate you into compliance, at your brother’s whims, and she was completely unaware of it. To be a pawn in such a twisted game unwittingly… It was cruel. But weren’t you attempting to do the exact same? The hypocrisy was completely not lost on you.

You watched her sleeping figure for a few more moments until you were certain she was asleep. Then, soundlessly, you slipped out of the embrace of your bed. The air was cool but heavy with humidity as you walked on the balls of your bare feet, your nightgown brushing your ankles and sending an anxious tremble up your body. You tried to move as swiftly as you could. Your spies and confidants were loyal enough, but even they would not wait out the entire night for you when there was other work to be done at dawn.

 An electric thrill jolted your being when you clasped the door handle. Was evading her watchful eye really so easy? Was all you had to do is slink around in the deep hours of dark?  You bit down a smile as the heavy door gave way . Freedom, for a few mere minutes at least, was just beyond the door…

“My Lady?” Something glacial hardened in your veins. The voice was hoarse with the remnants of slumber, but there was no doubting the razor-edge awareness of it. 

For a beat, you were too stunned to face her. When you didn’t turn, she spoke again. “Princess, what are you doing out of bed?”

What was the safest way to avoid her suspicion? The crashing of thunder sliced through your thoughts like a knife, offering you an escape route on a silver platter.

You whorled around, your eyebrows high-strung. Abigail was sitting upright, her head tilted and her unbound blonde hair dripping over one shoulder. There was no armour covering the wide expanse of her chest, a rare exposure of bare collarbone and surprisingly soft skin. You would perhaps never get used to the sight.

You clutched the fabric of your nightgown and widened your eyes, fawn-frightened. “Abigail, I…” you let your voice taper off into a quiver.

She was up in an instant and striding towards you, brows knitted together. Despite the urgency vibrating every cell in her body, her large hands cupped your shoulders with a gentleness you thought so disjointed for a woman of her size and profession. You doubted she would have touched you if it weren’t for the haze of confusion that overpowered her usual meticulousness. 

“What is the matter? Speak to me, princess.”

“I-it’s absurd, I…” You trembled ever so slightly and could only pray that you were convincing. “The storm… well, it frightened me. I apologise. You mustn't be used to such frivolity.”

The tautness of her bow-strung body seemed to drift away all at once. Her shoulders drooped and she smiled, this time a thing of pure relief. “Is that all that this is?”

You nodded once, pulling yourself inward more and silently thanking whichever god had just granted you quick wits. She tsked softly and brought you closer to her. The warmth of her body was comforting, as alive as the spark upon a coal. 

“You can wake me when you’re frightened, my lady,” she breathed out, her breath rustling the hair at your ear. 

“I thought– I didn’t wish to burden you.” For once, there was a distasteful speck of truth in your words. She was a thing too gentle and straightforward for the ugliness of court politics. How could you ask her to help you usurp a throne she adamantly kneeled at the foot of?

“Princess,” she sighed, her hands trailing from shoulder to elbow. “Your brother has tasked me to protect you.” A lie, and yet she believed it so wholeheartedly. A loyalty as steady as a heartbeat.

“You cannot salve for every little thing that ails me.”

“There’s a sort of protection in comfort, is there not?” Such naive words, ones a child could have spoken, but they rang throughout your entire being.

She was diluted ink in the dark of the storm, but the whites of her eyes and teeth shone with the sheen of pearl. Your lips parted, drinking in a shaky inhale. You should have kept playing the delicate flower  in distress, but you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and curious, a hunger that gnawed at the very marrow of your bones. A hunger that you had no choice but to satiate.

“And how do you intend to comfort me, dear knight?”

A moment of something heady passed, and you could practically see the churning of her mind, the weight of precariousness at her throat like a glinting blade. You knew then that the same starvation engulfed her own being, your hands slithering down to her wrists and clutching them. 

“I would do whatever you ask of me, My Lady–”

“No,” you cut her off, tracing a sliver of puckered flesh that outlined her bare wrist. A quaint shiver wracked her shoulders at the abrupt stone of your voice, unbidden. “No, Abigail. How do you wish to comfort me? Speak plainly.”

“I want…” Her voice was strained, the word leaden and fumbling on her tongue, her own will now foreign to her. Her hands tightened around your elbows. “What I want… what I desire, is not so easily spoken, princess.” 

Even in the dark, her eyes were the bottomless wells of a carefully guarded vulnerability. You wanted to chip away at that wall she had between you and her, between anyone but her fiery devotion and her own self.

You cupped her cheeks with the soft, uncalloused palms of your hands, watched as her reluctance dissolved with the touch. 

“Then show me.” 

Perhaps all that was needed was an uttered confirmation that you felt the same infuriating emotions. You had torn through the neat little bow of restraint that kept her being together, and now it was uncontainable, this ever-swelling.

There was a moment of hesitation, shared breath mingling sweetly, before she pressed her lips to yours. She cradled your waist as if you were porcelain, but her kiss was a beast of want, all teeth and tongue. Your back melded with the carvings of the door as she nudged you back, wooden jasmine blossoms and orchids keeping you tethered to the moment. You kissed back with just as much viciousness, astonished by your own affections welling up like crimson from a finger pricked.

It was with the ebb and flow of ocean waves that she let you go just as promptly as she had kissed you, her face a hazy mass of surprise in the semi-dark, leaving only the remnant of her warmth against your skin, the phantom of soft lips and tongue.

Her fingers scraped her blonde locks away from her face, chest heaving. 

“Princess,” she spoke through the ragged edge of her breath. There was a singed quality to her voice, raw and crisp. “Princess, it would be improper to continue.”

Disappointment, to your dismay, pooled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head to the side and gave a feeble nod, swallowing at the thick knot lodged in your throat. Letting her warm your bed would be unwise, you reminded yourself now. It would serve no purpose to your goals, and a lovesick knight trailing you around was the last thing you needed. And yet... 

“We cannot cross that line,” she whispered. You felt the gentle snaking of arms around yours as you were pulled close to her chest, your ear snug against it. “But I am still here.” Her heartbeat was hummingbird-rapid, a reflection of your own.

She led you back to the bed and watched intently as you laid down beneath the smooth blanket. You stared in return. How was a person sharpened for such luridness able to wield tenderness the way she did a weapon? It was more frightening, you silently mused, than any tale of her violence could offer. It did little to divert the ache that seeped to your very bones, the craving for it.

Lightning still ruptured the heavens, followed dismally by a cacophony of thunder.

“Abigail.” Your hand drifted into the air, toward her. She held it gently in both of hers.

“Are you still frightened?”

Your plan for the night had been uprooted, and you had no choice but to remain here in this room. You traced each feature of hers with your eyes, lingering on the worrisome crease of her brow. Perhaps… “Yes, a little.”

Perhaps, this once, sweet selfishness was justified. Perhaps you could let this sordid business of trickery and usurpation float from your mind. This once…

“Will you lay beside me?” You sat up, peeling the blanket aside. “It would help me a great deal.”

“My lady…”

“Innocently, of course,” you reassured. “To know someone is beside me, to share that warmth… it would ease my nerves greatly.”

A beat passed, then another. “I think… It's something I also need. For tonight.”

“For tonight,” you echoed, patting the empty space of the bed next you. 

She clambered in beside you without another word, a slow exhale escaping her when her head softly hit the pillow. You could feel her breath fan over your face gently, followed by a soothing, steady hand on your arm.

“Will you hold me?” There was a waver in your cadence, something unbearably soft puckering to the surface. “Is that okay?”

 You were encircled by her arms, so gently that you felt, something swirl inside of you, just to then sink. 

Consciousness left her almost instantly at the feel of your body against hers. The comfort of someone to hold in the eternal stretch of night elleviated the quiet ache that thrummed and tugged at her own being. 

You listened as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, until the sky stopped its tears and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of her heart at your ear.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The marble was icy beneath the soles of your feet, each footfall echoing softly through the desolate, cavernous halls. The lanterns flickered low, the walls cast in leaping, ravenous shadows. 

Wait for me at the entrance to the orchard, you had told your spy, an inconspicuous place for business made in the night, but as you reached the intricately designed archway, you were met with the absence of the living. The sharp smell of damp earth and overripe fruit wafted through the open space, yet it did little to calm the eerie feeling in your blood. 

Perhaps you were too late, or perhaps she had appeared conspicuous. A fist of disappointment twisted at your gut, but relief flooded your veins with it. There was silence, at least. Stagnance was a better ordeal than disruption. You turned away from the trees, feet almost silent without the usual finery adorning your ankles.

A whisper against the precious stone. Something scratching and picoting, until you felt the brush of it at your leg. Frozen, you peered at what had touched you. A piece of flimsy paper, the uncertain handwriting that you had come to know so well. Between the looping letters of secret after secret unfurled, vermillion stained the thin sheet. Vibrant. Fresh.

A man at the very first tree, the shimmer of the whites of his eyes furious and expansive. You knew this face, these pompous clothes, the cruel, all-knowing scowl on his lips. Your brother’s confidant and his closest advisor. If this man could stretch himself as thin as a carpet to soften your brother’s steps, he would have.

His movements were rigid, yet quick as he lunged in your direction, teeth bared and motivated by his sweltering rage alone. His cheek was streaked with the same shade of red.

“You treasonous whore!” He swiped his hands at you, but you scrambled away at the very last moment. “Traitor!”

“My Lord–” Your heart thrusted against your ribcage, your breath coming out in uneven, shattering breaths. There was no cajoling such a blind beast. His voice was much too loud, his body propelled by something untethered to reason.

You were going to be found out. He had the evidence and his screams were enough to alert any guards patrolling the slumbering palace. You had to do something, you had to–

He lunged forward again, forceful yet sloppy. Your body began to react on its own accord.

The blade was an ugly little thing, stolen from beneath Abigail’s pillow weeks ago and fastened in a makeshift sheath of torn silk and ribbon, held steadily enough by a bangle at your wrist. It was in your hand, slipping from the snugness of the material and clanging against the jewellery with the same delicate ring of anklet bells chiming in the midst of dance and song. A song of retribution, thrumming, awake and unabated, in your veins.

The moment was a blur, the contact of iron to skin one you could not even comprehend until a surprised, wet sound bubbled forth from the nobleman’s lips. He slumped forward against the blade, his eyes glassy. Lifeblood trickled down the hilt of the blade and down your fingers. The warmth of it made your stomach churn. 

Before you could pull the blade out, he swayed to the side, toppling to the ground with a sickening thump. Crimson bled across the stark white of the floor, pooling beneath his now motionless body.

The bile of pure panic rose to your throat, face leached of warmth. What have I done? What have I done? What have I–

“Princess?” A voice of honeycomb, even when it wavered with such uncertainty.

No.

You stared ahead, the bulky outline of her blurring only to refocus as she got closer. There was a look that had never graced her face before, one of confusion mixed with something akin to horror. Had she known this man? Taken orders from him?

But she did not look down at the grim image at her feet, but rather at you. Your stained fingers, the way your face had grown ashen and fear-stricken.

Her fingers ghosted over your cheek, but stopped short of making contact. “What…” You could hear the thoughts that knotted in her mind. How could such a sweet thing – you – do this?

A shout sounded down the hall, and you flinched, eyes darting in the direction as a new wave of bone-rattling fear crashed down upon you. There was a clamour, the sound of swords against urgently moving legs. 

Abigail pulled her hand away from you as if seared. Hardness seeped into the cracks where her moment of bare emotion shone. A moment ticked by, voices growing closer.

With a flash of movement, she yanked the blade out of the lifeless body beside her, a sickening squelch that did not seem to rattle her, and turned her back on you. Surely she had to be more selfish than this?

“Abigail–”

“Be silent and stay behind me.”

Your voice sank down into an urgent whisper. “Your recklessness is going to get you killed.”

Her head turned toward you then, her gaze meeting yours. Blue flame, a flicker of pure torment. 

“You have already made me your accomplice.” They should have been sweet, simple words, but they held the acrid tang of rotting fruit, bitter and wilting despite their saccharine nature.

They were encircling you in an instant, guards wearing the colours of the sun and the moon. Their swords were raised, but they waited for something…

The guards parted, roiling ocean waves. You watched as your brother stepped his way to the front, head held high.

Without a single word, Abigail dropped to her knees, the blade clanging against the floor and skidding away from her to rest at his feet.

Your brother did not spare her a glance. His eyes pinned you in place, cold and measured. He did not ask about the commotion or point grieving eyes towards his closest advisor. No, he already decided on what truth in this he would spin and alter in order to squash you beneath his bejewelled hand. 

As he stared you down, you gazed at the back of Abigail’s neck, peach-toned skin peaking beneath the cascade of blonde waves over her shoulders. You wanted to reach out, to touch her one last time if only to bid farewell.

Such a rotten heart you had. You felt it thump mournfully, greed winning out in the end. 

Your lips remained tightly locked as she took the fall for your turpitude, an act of the foulest betrayal.

As you watched them drag her away, you may as well have been clapping the chains around her wrists yourself. 

Who knew that even a blade of the soul could be double-edged?

[pretentious-blonde]

patched up

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you help remus clean up after the full moon, reminding him once again how much he is loved, even if he thinks he is underserving

warnings: cuts, wounds, physical pain

a/n: all i write is hurt/comfort, and I'm not even mad

Remus sat on the old leather couch, a book in his hand that just couldn’t seem to grasp his attention. His free fingers traced small circles on your legs, which you had ungracefully thrown over his own as you lounged together in the living room. It was still early, just coming up for noon, you both were aware of the time. Even if the knowledge was unspoken. 

It was the full moon tonight, and despite the routine that you both had become familiar with, the boy couldn’t shake the nerves that coiled and twisted inside of him. 

You pretended not to notice what he was doing, glancing at the door every couple of minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock. James and Sirius would arrive any moment now, take him away, far away for yet another transformation. You were used to it by now. 

One thing that was always constant was that they had always been there for him, he appreciated that, but he hated leaving you. Especially when you gave him that soft, reassuring smile. Like everything would be fine. Like everything was fine.

“Rem,” you spoke softly, catching those big, brown eyes. His body was tense beneath you. 

“I’m alright, dove,” he gave you a weak smile, his fingers stopping their patterns to give your calf a light squeeze. “Just… you know.”

And you did know. Painfully so.

You nodded, understanding him completely. You were about to speak more, but were interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. He stiffened even more at the sound. Hand stilling.

He sighed and closed the book, setting it aside. His gaze moved to the hand on your leg, not wanting to move it, wanting to keep the inevitable away for just a second longer. 

“It’s time,” he tells you quietly, like he does every month. His voice carried a sadness that he couldn’t hide completely. 

You place your hand on top of his own, your smile gentle but knowing. “I’ll be right here. Waiting for you to get back, okay?”

He stood up, pulling you with him, tall body towering over your own. He let his hand linger on the small of your back as you both headed to the front door. When he opened it, James and Sirius stood waiting outside, both smiling softly as they knew what was to come. The car behind them was still running, headlights cutting through the fog, casting a warm glow behind them. 

“Hey, mate,” James begins, smiling up at Remus. “You ready?”

Sirius leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, his usual smirk missing from his face. “We’re ready when you are,” he said. His voice light in an attempt to ease your boyfriend’s nerves. “If you need a breather before we go, just say the word.”

Remus shook his head, he would rather just get this over and done with, no more stalling. You could feel the stress in his body increase as the hand on your waist held on a little tighter. 

Sirius, sensing the clear tension that settled heavily in the air, finally cracked a smile. “Don’t worry,” he waved his hand in front of him. “You’ll be back here with your girl before you know it.” He said, winking in your direction.

James also turns his attention to you, giving you a mock salute, “He is in safe hands, don’t you fret.”

“And we won’t allow him to get too grumpy when we return him,” Sirius added, side-eyeing the man standing next to you. Remus runs a hand over his face at their teasing.

You rolled your eyes and gave them a half-glare, happy that they were trying to keep things light. 

“I trust you both,” you say, tone teasing but nonetheless truthful. “Bring him back in one piece.”

James nods. “You have our word.”

Remus lets out a small, grateful smile before turning his attention back to you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger on your cheek for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, darling. I promise,” he tells you, his gaze was intense. The act of leaving you now was painful. 

You leaned forward and hugged him tightly, his own long arms wrapping around you immediately. Secure and firm, he never wanted to let go. 

“I know you will,” you whispered into his chest, voice muffled by his worn jumper. “I’ll be here.”

Remus reluctantly loosened his embrace, kissing your forehead gently as he allowed himself to linger. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he held your chin. Warm, tired eyes burrowing into your own. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say quickly. He already knew that but—god—did it feel good to hear you say it back. He turned towards the car behind him, giving you a small wave before climbing in. 

Remus settled into the back seat as the other two slid into the front. He watched you as the car sped away, trying to push down the knots his stomach was tying. Sirius leaned back, tossing him a lighthearted grin from the passenger seat.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to help him relax. “It’s just another moon. We have done this hundreds of times now.”

"Another moon, another miserable night,” Remus grumbled, no longer having the will to fake a smile. You weren’t there anymore. 

James glanced back from the driver’s seat, a sympathetic look now in his eyes. “You’ll be alright, mate. Besides, from the way you’re moping, I’d say you’re just lovesick.”

“Definitely lovesick,” Sirius said, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus sighed, staring out the trees flying past the window. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am. I’m damn lucky to be.”

James and Sirius exchanged a quick, knowing look, but didn’t tease him further. Remus just wanted to get through this—so he could go back to the one person who made everything else worth it.

Remus tried his hardest to be silent when he entered, opening the door gently to lessen the loud creak, his movements were slow and heavy as he stepped inside. It was late—much later than he intended to be—every inch of his tired body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his ribcage, having to reach out and steady himself against the wall, closing the door behind him. 

It had been bad this time. Really bad. James and Sirius had confirmed it, as if the fresh wounds couldn’t tell him that already. Their concerned faces still clear in his memory. 

The cuts on his body were deep—deeper than usual—one stretching across his chest, another on his arm, and a particularly nasty one that covered the side of his face. He had no recollection of how he acquired them, but they offered a fresh reminder of what he was. What he could become. 

He trudged up the stairs, each step more painful than the last, eventually making his way to the bathroom. He avoided the mirror, the last thing he wanted to see was his reflection—the scars, the bandages, the tired eyes that always seemed more hollow after the events of a full moon. He quickly redressed the lacerations on his torso, delaying touching the one on his cheek. 

He didn’t want to see what it looked like, but he had no choice. He needed to change it. He would just have to do it fast. 

Glancing up quickly, he caught a brief glimpse of himself. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Immediately he looked away, biting down another wave of familiar self-loathing that flowed through him. 

He hated this—hated how he looked, how his body was always going to be a physical reminder of how cursed he was. How much of a monster he was. 

With shaky hands, he removed a bandage from its plastic casing, placing it on his face as swiftly as he could. He pulled out a loose set of pyjamas and quickly slipped them on his aching body, just wanting to crawl into bed and pretend the previous night never happened.

He opened the door to your shared bedroom and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of your sleeping figure. You were lying peacefully on your side of the bed, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your breathing drew him closer to you. 

He paused before he got in, just standing there for a moment, taking you in, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He loved you. God, he loved you. The one thing in his life he would never get near his tribulation. The one thing that kept him going. 

Carefully, he slipped in next to you, taking extra care not to rouse you. The ache in his arms flared up as he pulled back the heavy duvet, but he forced himself to ignore it. After all, what was a little discomfort when he could be close to you?

He shuffled closer, wincing at the pain that shot through his muscles, but it appeared to melt into the background as he felt your warmth permeate his skin. 

For a moment, he was content just laying there next to you, watching you sleep. If you were awake you would probably call him a creep. He stifled a chuckle at the image that formed in his mind. 

His heart ached—not from the wounds or exhaustion he had sustained, but from the overwhelming combination of emotions he felt for you. He hoped you were sleeping well, lord knows he wouldn’t be. Not with the soreness that was coursing through his drained body, but his own well-being didn’t concern him right now. What mattered was that he was here, with you. 

With a soft sigh, he gently pulled your sleeping form closer to him, his arms trembling slightly with the strain. The throbbing in his chest flared up again, but he ignored it. Instead, he buried his face in your hair and let the steady sound of your breathing soothe him. He kissed the top of your head, whispering into the silent room. 

“I’m home, love,” he murmured, voice almost inaudible as sleep began to pull him under. “Promised I would be.”

The first thing you felt when you stirred was a familiar warmth, strong arms wrapped around you, and for a brief moment, your heart swelled with relief. He was back. He always came back to you. But every time he managed to crawl back home you couldn’t help but worry if it would be worse than the last time. You shifted slightly, turning in his embrace in order to get a better look at him—that’s when you noticed. 

The fresh bandages, hastily applied, peeked out from his long sleeve, another covering the side of his face. You ached for him at the sight of them. You pulled your arms from beneath the duvet, reaching out to touch the dressing. Your fingers hovered just above it, pausing mid-air as you stopped yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him more. You didn’t know what lay beneath them. 

You wriggled out of his hold, taking additional time and care so as to not wake the man sleeping soundly next to you. He needed the rest. You were certain he would be in pain as soon as he rose, and as much as the idea of staying in his arms sounded heavenly, you decided to make yourself useful. 

Padding quietly to the kitchen, odd socks on your feet, you grab two cups from the cupboard above your head. You had to go on your tiptoes to reach them. Usually, Remus would insist on getting them for you—he had once seen you clamber up onto the counter and it nearly gave him a heart attack—but he was preoccupied today. 

The kettle bubbled softly as you pulled out the jar of tea, along with the packet of biscuits—chocolate, of course, his preferred choice. You prepared it in the way he taught you, letting it brew for a good couple of minutes before removing the teabag, pouring in a healthy glug of milk. You returned to the bedroom, steaming mugs in hand and the packet of biscuits under your arm. 

The brunette began to stir at the soft crackle of plastic as you placed the treats on the bedside table, holding your own mug close to your chest as you sat on the floor beside the bed. You watched his eyes as they fluttered open. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to look at him horizontally. “How are you feeling?”

He winced as he shifted over, his body still unbearably sore. His tired eyes met yours, and despite everything, he managed to give you a faint smile. It was hard not to when you looked at him like that. 

“I’ve been better,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep. 

You shook your head at his attempts to downplay his clear discomfort, trying to mask the worry in your eyes that was surely present. 

“I made you tea,” you gesture to the cup next to you, pale wisps dancing around the top of it. He liked it hot, straight from the kettle. It amazed you how he could handle drinking it so fast. “And your favourite.”

“I’m a lucky man,” he said as he sat up, voice slightly strained as he finished his sentence. He reached out and dipped the biscuit in his mug, making a sound of relief as he popped it into his mouth, allowing the rich flavour to melt over his tongue. 

He took a sip of his tea, sleeve rolling up slightly as he leant over, bandage visible. You didn’t want to mention how poorly they had been applied, you didn’t want to remind him. But it had to be done, for his sake. 

“Rem,” you began gently, not wanting to upset him. “You need to change those.”

Immediately, he stiffened, his body pausing mid-sip. He loathed this part—being looked after and the vulnerability that came with it. 

“Do I?” He muttered, voice lacking the spark it had when he woke up, clearly embarrassed at your statement. 

You nodded solemnly, cringing at the discomfort in his eyes. “It might get infected,” you tell him. “You’re tired. Let me help you, please?”

He hesitated for a moment, an internal battle occurring in his head, before giving you one of his kind smiles. “Alright,” he responded, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. “Can I finish my tea first?”

You giggled, worry easing just a little. “Of course,” you say, nodding your head. “We’ll do it after.”

He placed his soon-empty cup on the side next to him, sighing heavily as he nodded to you. “Alright, love,” he said reluctantly. “I’m ready.”

You stand up slowly, reaching out to take his hesitant hand, leading him towards the bathroom. He traced your knuckles with his thumb as you both continued down the hallway. When you opened the door, he immediately hopped up on the counter silently. Ignoring the mirror and instead choosing to look down at his lap.

The first aid kit was under the sink, a pack that you always kept fully stocked. You quickly grabbed it before returning to your place in front of him, standing in between his spread legs. Your heart felt heavy at how exhausted he looked. How broken. But you refused to let him see that. He didn’t need to worry about you being worried about him. He had enough to deal with as it is. 

“Can I take your jumper off?” You ask him softly, afraid of raising your voice. You needed to take care of him, and from the looks of it, he wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible. 

His eyes left his lap and locked with yours. For a second, he looked as though he might say something, but instead, he just nodded. Words seemingly too hard to form right now. 

You tried to keep your hands steady as you reached out, gently pulling the fabric over his head, keeping the material as far away from his body as you removed it. You folded up the material and placed it to the side, allowing him to get more comfortable with his bare skin showing before you gave him your attention again. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

Bandages—there were so many of them, scattered haphazardly across his torso and arms. Each one was a significant reminder of what he had been through the previous night. You swallowed hard, putting on a brave face as you knew he was watching your every movement. 

“You ready?” You asked, needing verbal confirmation as you knew this was going to hurt. Not just him, but yourself as well. 

His lips twitched up into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he quipped, trying to take the edge off, but the pain was clear in his low voice. 

You peeled off the dressings, not earning a large reaction from the boy sitting in front of you. Most of them had become unstuck as he slept, making your job easier. You reached for the cloth and antiseptic, deciding to start with the easier gashes first. Your touch was diligent and gentle as you cleaned him, dabbing carefully at the blood and dirt that clung to his skin. 

He must have been shattered last night to skip this. That fact made you even more determined to fix this. To fix him. You couldn’t offer much, but you would do whatever you thought would help. Every few minutes, you’d glance up, wordlessly checking on him. Waiting for the swift bob of his head as he urges you to keep going. 

“Am I hurting you?” You knew the answer already, but you needed to know how much. 

“Only a little,” he lied, a faint smirk appearing on his face. “I’ve been though worse, dove.”

You roll your eyes at his ill attempt of humour, but at least he was able to crack a joke. That was a good sign. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you murmered as you pressed down on a particularly nasty cut, earning a small hiss from him. You hurried up when you heard the noise, not wanting to be the one behind his torture. 

Finally, you turned your attention to the injury on his face, the angry red line that ran from his collarbone all the way up to his cheek. The sight of it yanked at your heartstrings and you knew you failed to mask your reaction, his body stiffened. Eyes darting away from yours as he attempted to look away. You caught his chin before he could withdraw into himself, forcing him to look at you. 

Big, doe eyes filled with guilt, shame even, and it devastated you. He cleared his throat with a sharp cough, his voice gravely. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he muttered, gaze dropping again despite the grip on his chin. “You shouldn’t—have to take care of me like this.”

You removed your hold on him, allowing both of your hands to continue working, dabbing gently as his mouth curled at the stinging sensation. “Remus,” you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. “I want to take care of you. I love taking care of you.”

He shook his head slightly, the conversation paining him more than your actions. “You’re too good to me,” he tells you, his voice monotone as if he was just speaking a fact. “Look at me, darling. I’m—I’m a mess.”

You smiled at the angelic boy in front of you and placed a kiss on his cheekbone, just above the cut. He really couldn’t see what you saw. What his friends saw in him. How he treated you all. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, going above and beyond for each and every person he cared for. 

It wasn’t a skill that could be taught. It was innate. It was Remus. Always had been. 

“You’re not a mess,” you say firmly. “You are mine. I love you—every scar, every mark, every part of you.”

You saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes slightly glassy as he stared at you. He always struggled to allow people to give him affection, not believing he deserved it. He didn’t know where to put all the love you gave him. He always felt unworthy of it. 

But in that moment, just the two of you in the cramped bathroom, illuminated by the small ceiling bulb. It felt right. Your fingers brushing over his scars, some fresher, some older, he thought maybe…just maybe. It would all be alright. 

You finish the last dressing, smoothing it over his skin with the same tenderness you treated all the others. “All done,” you tell him, feeling proud of your handiwork. 

Remus lets out a relieved chuckle at your pride. “I’d say you’ve missed your calling, love. Should’ve been a nurse.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh, feeling the tension leave the room. “Maybe I’ll change careers.”

“I take it back,” he says quickly, eyes softening with affection. “I want you all to myself. I’m selfish.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have the whole of today off,” you say, throwing the used bandages and their wrappers into the bin by the door. “We can do whatever you want.”

He raised an eyebrow, your words tempting him. “Anything?”

“Yep, anything at all,” you nod at him. “Within your...physical capabilities,” you quickly add. There is no way that would be happening in his condition. 

“Well you’re no fun,” Remus frowns playfully, mischief still swimming in his eyes. “But I’m sure I can come up with something riveting for the both of us.”

You put your hands on your hips, assuming a determined stance. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”

He hums, pleased with your statement, lowering himself down from the counter and pulling his jumper back on. Grimacing as it brushes his skin. He motions for you to follow him into the living room, watching as he winces as he sits down on the couch, his face briefly tightening in pain. But then, true to form, he opens his wide arms and looks at you expectantly. “Come on then.”

You go to take a step forward but hesitate. You would love nothing more than to drape yourself over him, but the sight of his bandages stops you. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

A look of warmth crossed his face, shaking his head with a tender smile. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t let me hold you, darling. Come on.”

You can’t help but melt at his kind words, you gently ease yourself onto the couch, mindful of his injuries and not putting your full weight on him. His arms encase you instantly, pulling you impossibly closer despite the clear discomfort it caused him. 

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” You scold him, your cheek resting on his chest, mindful of the dressing on the opposite side. 

“Stubborn? No.” He quips, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hopelessly in love? Maybe.”

You giggle, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you in a steady rhythm. “A bit of both, I think.”

It’s his turn now to chuckle, his tired bones relaxing further into the soft cushions. “You might be right.”

You both just lie there in a comfortable silence, the sound of the world beginning to wake up outside only added to the ambience. He was at peace with you In his embrace, glancing down at you as you gazed at him softly. Fingers tracing gentle circles on an unharmed piece of his chest. 

“So…” you begin, continuing your motions. “Any grand ideas for today?”

He shakes his head, stopping to meet your eyes, lips curling into a lazy smile. “Honestly? Just this. Just you.” His voice is playful but his words have never been more true. “Don’t need anything else.”

“Smooth,” you say sarcastically, suppressing a smirk of your own. 

“I’m serious, love,” he chuckles. “I can’t think of a better way to spend today.”

Your heart soared at his words, you carefully shifted to cup his face. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pushes himself further into your palm, eyes closing for the briefest of moments, his hand coming up to cover your own. “Have I mentioned that you’re too good for me?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the familiar self-doubt can still be heard in his voice. 

“Unfortunately, far too much,” you playfully glare. “You stubborn man.”

He reopens his eyes, now filled with an overwhelming amount of affection. It almost takes your breath away. 

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard me say how lucky I am as well,” he teases, his expression never faltering. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you grin cheekily, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “My boyfriend makes an excellent cup of tea.”

“Is that all I’m here for?” He asks in mock offence, pulling you flush against him, despite the twinge of pain it caused. “Keeping me around for my tea-making skills?”

“Exactly,” you nestle your head against him. 

At that moment, everything felt right to him. Just the two of you, safe, together. Nothing else mattered to him apart from the girl in his arms. He knows the pain will linger—the scars, the transformations, all of it. But with you—his anchor—it feels just about bearable. And for the first time in a long time. He allows himself to feel hope. The hope of your future together. 

[pressureplus]

Chronically ill fan here! I’m currently having a costochondritis flare up because I overworked myself. (My sternum cartilage is inflamed and uncomfortable) All I want is cuddles and kisses and to be taken care of while I try to sleep it off. Could I possibly get romantic Sebastian and fem chronically ill reader where Sebastian cares for her during a costochondritis flare if that’s okay?

You don’t have to do any research on costochondritis either. At surface level it’s just inflammation and pain mainly in the sternum/rib area that can be aggravated by heavy lifting

Chronically ill representation in readers is rare and I’ve never seen costochondritis rep.

I hope this is okay! Thank you so much!

As someone who is also chronically ill, I felt this in my bones. I got you

Sensitive, Sensitive

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Chronically ill!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Pet Names (Sunshine, Love)

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

“Please- watch your hands.” You whine as Sebastian goes to pick you up. The additional pushing from his palms making your bones feel like they’re going to crack under all that pressure. You already felt like you weren’t intaking enough air, though you’re sure you are. That and the pain that you’d once almost worried could’ve been a heart attack waiting to happen? Yeah you didn’t need any more pain. You knew about your flare ups, knew you shouldn’t push yourself too hard, and you’d gone and done it anyway. Was it a bad idea? Yes but you’ve got to survive down here somehow, you’re not gonna eat if you lay around all day.

Your boyfriend, Sebastian, on the other hand already looked concerned. His hands taking the heavy box you were carrying right out from your grasp. His gaze flicking around the multitude of snacks you’d ripped out from vending machines in your desperation. You must’ve brought in at least several boxes of the stuff and while he hadn’t been too worried at first, the pained breaths you made sure changed his mind now. Your hand came up to almost attempt to soothe the ache with gentle rubbing, and maybe it helped a little but not nearly enough. Still you turned, getting ready to go back out with a new box when Sebastian coiled his tail around your legs and hips.

“Not so fast.” He hums, placing the box to the side and leaning down to your height.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going back out? I’m not done emptying the-”

“You’re done now.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re done now. Come on, Sunshine, we’re laying down.” He’s careful to lift you up. This time avoiding the area causing you the most pain. He’s gentle, lifting you up by the hips and gently pressing you against his oddly comfortable body. His snake-like form slithering into the backroom and right up to your makeshift bed. Although it certainly wasn’t as comfortable as the ones at home, it would do. It always did. He was gentle when he laid you atop the mattress and tugged a thicker, comfortable blanket over top of you. His body sliding up against you, wrapping himself as close to you as possible. You attempt to wiggle out only the once before giving in, in far too much pain to wrestle yourself free this time.

“We’re going to lay in bed until you feel better.”

“It’s probably not going to go away for a while, and the pain isn’t going to fully subside anyway. You have to work- it’s all you do. You don’t have to lay here with me just because I’m hurting.”

“Y/N, I don’t mind laying with you at all. Why would I?” He softens and tilts your head to him. His lips pressing against yours as gently as he can, soft and sweet before pulling back from you. The fins on the sides of his head doing that cute little wiggle you’d grown so accustomed to seeing.

“I’m supposed to keep you safe, that includes from yourself. You’re not going to overwork yourself any further than you already have. What you are going to do though is rest.” An arm wraps around your waist, another combs through your hair and the third functions as a comfortable pillow for you.

“You’re sure I can just lay down here for a while?”

“You’re being an idiot, why would I be upset at you for resting?” He hits you with immediate sass and playfully nips at your jaw. His hand that lays over your hip rubs slow little circle against it.

“You don’t have to be a dick.”

“I’m not, I just know you aren’t always the brightest crayon in the box. I don’t want you hurting, Love. Now quiet down a bit and get some rest, hm? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[shibaraki]

EXCERPT FROM EDEN ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: the further you delve into the forest the farther you find yourself from your village's good graces—subsequently pushed into the arms of a creature you were warned to stay away from.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, fantasy au, naga aizawa, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, mention of violence (reader has bruises), reader is an outcast, bathing together, nesting, monsterfucking, mating bites (not A/B/O), aphrodisiac venom (so no prep needed), dubcon (for the venom) but v enthusiastic consent, non human genitalia (hemipenes), grinding, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasm, creampie, aizawa carries reader (he is big n strong)

wc: 7.3K

There are monsters in the night.

Adults would spin tales about them when you were young. You were warned not to go near the forest. To never stray from the path. If a voice calls to you, do not answer. Look at your feet and cover your ears. Thoughts filled with blood-steeped, ugly stories of such creatures: half man half serpent taller than an ogre swallowing impious people up whole. Naga, the true tempter, the harbinger of misfortune.

Children spent idle time feigning courage and taunting the so-called beasts in spite of it; playing at the treeline, skittering over the border and rushing back with a surge of adrenaline, as if the creature had been right there awaiting a meal. But above all they liked to frighten you, the runt of the litter. Snakes like to eat mice, they would jeer. Little mouse they would call you. Perfect bait.

It had been dewy that fateful afternoon. You were chased deep into the unknown. Petichor hung thick around the trees after a sun shower. Summer was drawing to a close. Shorter days, darker mornings. Your elders would call the weather ‘temperamental’ and you liked that. As though the Gods were children clinging onto those last dregs of heat, unwilling to let go.

Grass flattened wet under your bare feet, you ran from sharp stones and sharper words. Ran until the only voice left in your head was your own. Lungs tight and spasming for oxygen. You felt eyes on you the moment foliage snapped under another tentative step—but the figure before you did not move. He remained on his stomach, arms folded beneath his head, body stretched long and bare across the narrow clearing to bathe in the sunspot. Lower, right at the base of his spine, pale skin faded seamlessly into black scales that made up the thick, sinuous tail of a snake.

Your knees stung where small open wounds touched the air. A gentle breeze flowed in through the underbrush, took your slight apprehension and whisked it into the thinning redwood canopy. As a child you simply couldn’t connect something so non threatening and lazy to the monsters of old.

You approached the naga with slow, telegraphed movements. Thin pupils drenched in vermillion glow observed behind a half lidded stare. Closer then, trembling hands tugged and stretched the hem of your shirt, popping the old stitching. “Hello,” you said, voice small even to your own ears. “I—I’m not a mouse. Just so you know”.

Something flickered in his expression; a stifled inhale, a brief shift, the naga sighed. It rolled through his body, belly turning toward the sky. Sunlight reflected on the exposed underside and shimmered iridescent, stealing your breath. “That much is obvious,” he replied tiredly.

“Then, you won’t eat me?” before he had the chance to answer, you’d already been emboldened. You tottered toward him with a surge of energy and sureness. “Thank you. Can we be friends?”

“No,” he muttered, retreating into his coils.

A familiar sensation stung behind your eyes and your bottom lip trembled fiercely. It built up in your body and collapsed. Loneliness, shame, the incessant, throbbing ache in your limbs after sprinting so far. You tried again, a quiet warble. “Please?”

But a stern voice rumbled from the layers of muscle, uninterested in your swelling emotions. “Go away kid,” the naga demanded. “It’s not safe out here”.

“M’not a kid,” then you kicked the dirt in a burst of wounded anger. While bigger than you, this naga wasn’t even close to towering an oni, so you bluffed petulantly, “You’re a kid too”.

“While that may be true I am still older than you,” came the disgruntled remark. Then, faster than you could register, an arm shot out from between the dark coils and took you by the throat.

Reflexively, you gripped the naga’s wrist with both hands. But you didn’t flinch. Rather than fight his hold you waited, rabbit-footed heart beating in your chest. Violence was nothing new to a runt like you. The hand slid up to your chin and forced you to keep his gaze. His eyes flickered strangely there in the darkness. Red like fresh blood. The ire in them faltered at your spiritless reaction.

“Annoying human. Your lack of instinct will get you killed,” the creature stated. You said nothing. He continued, “You’re far from home. Follow the river to your settlement. Do not come back here”.

You recall how abruptly your senses sharpened at his mention and latched onto the distant sound of running water. He freed you from his grip, pale limb slinking back into the recesses of his twisted tail. He reminded you of a snail receding into its shell. Boring, lazy and slow moving. Naga were not so frightening, you concluded.

You returned with reluctance, following the riverbank until the end of your new world where it broke into a wishbone shape and wound around the village. Adults frowned at the dry mud caking your feet, ankles and calves. Their calloused fingers squeezed roughly around your wrists and dragged you to the springs to scrub you raw.

“Where on earth have you been?” one asked, mouth set in a frown. Another held you by the shoulders, thumbs pressed into your collarbone with intention to bruise. “Your stupidity is going to curse us all,” they shook you in place and their strength only grew the more you fought. “Do not provoke the naga. Understand?”

Faces twisted in disappointment haunted you all through the night. Eyes sore and puffy. Tears soaked into your shirt; you could taste them in the back of your throat. Oval-shaped bruises adorned your collar yet your throat and your jaw remained unblemished, if not a little tender. You were hurt, but not by the one you were warned against.

Your second excursion into the forest to see the naga was of your own volition. He was not where you first met him but nearby, curled up beneath an ancient tree, right where her bole has spread and warped to create a small depression in the trunk. The wind billowed. Branches swayed and bent their spindly fingers, pointed at you, almost accusingly.

He appeared to be sleeping. Again. Arms folded atop his tail, chin rested on the cradle it made. Perhaps there was something wrong with you—as the elders often stated—but you were not entirely stupid. You kept your hands to yourself, letting only your eyes wander as you crept close enough to see the soft curve of his jaw, the sloped nose, the youthful cheeks.

Long dark hair draped loosely over pale shoulders, expression serene while he rested. You thought he was lovely. Not at all beastly. Right down to the dip of his stomach, where skin vanished into bony hips and an obsidian tail.

A guttural hum startled you where you stood. Unmoving, the naga murmured, “Do you have a death wish?”

That voice untied every knot in your body. “N—no,” you held strong. “I told you, I want to be friends”.

“And I told you that’s not happening”.

When he peeked at you through dark curtains into those dim eyes there came a softness, as though atoning for his harsh words. Under that gaze your stomach started to rumble. “You’re hungry,” you shrunk, palms pressed flat as though to snuff out the sound. “Humans need to eat multiple times a day, do they not?”

“…Sometimes,” your agreement was barely a mumble. “If there is enough for me”.

The naga scrutinised you and your answer, displeased by it. After a long silence he unravelled and asked, “Do you want food?”

Hope filled you from root to stem. You bloomed. Stretched for the open sky like a flower seeking sun, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “Food?” you echoed excitedly. You trailed after him and nearly tripped in your haste. He caught you with the end of his tail and sighed. It coiled tightly around your middle and inched you along with him.

Having glanced surreptitiously in his direction, your warm human hand swept across the cool dark scales. They were glossy and smooth, unlike anything you’d ever felt. As he moved you sensed the power in his limb.

“What do naga eat?”

“Anything. Fish, birds, insects,” he told you. The coil around your waist flexed as if to check you were there. Hearing your trepidation his tone lilted as he added, “But what you’re really asking is if I eat humans, aren’t you?”

You rubbed where you thought his belly might be and pondered aloud, “Would you, if they deserved it?”

He scowled over his shoulder and came to an abrupt stop. “What kind of a question is that, kid?”

You wilted at the sharp verbiage, feeling scolded, though unable to understand his offense. After all, that is exactly what the villagers would say of you if ever he decided to.

That only seemed to fuel his frustration. You worried in the face of it, for a weak moment. Warnings you’ve clamoured in your conscience, soon chased by immediate guilt. Your new friend had offered kindness and there you were, assuming the worst of him.

Sensing your turmoil the naga cautiously brought his hand to your head. Front to back, pausing at a vulnerable, unmarked nape. He attempted to pet you. Wide eyed, you stared ahead until every leaf in the grove coalesced into a green blur. His touch had been deliberate, soft and soothing despite the tension set in his face.

Laid in the palm of his other hand was a pile of plum red berries. The coils relaxed to recline you into a comfortable position and wordlessly, you shared the small treat together. Teeth glinted sharp in the daylight, made to rend flesh from bone. They sank tender into thin skin until it burst and he hummed at the flavour enjoying a simple pleasure like any human boy would.

Their fruity tang clung to your tongue. You took your fill and more. “Thank you…” your voice lost strength, no name to fill the blanks.

“Aizawa,” he muttered. A rough swipe of his thumb across your lips wiped away the citrus. “It’s Aizawa Shouta. And don’t speak with your mouth full”.

The sky darkened on the eventide. Aizawa bid you a flippant farewell, your name at home in his mouth, and you erred on caution, changing course to wash the dirt and foliage from your body. Loud was the pounding of your heart against your ribs, a frantic beat. But nobody batted an eye at your presence, nor the absence of it.

Those short excursions continued for some time. Be it a stroke of boredom, or loneliness, you would find yourself treading back through the banks, to Aizawa’s territory. There was never a discernible path leading to him. Your legs would simply take you there, heart magnetised like the arrow of a compass. Whilst the village raised you with harsh, inattentive hands, he became your North. Years passed together and eyes turned as your insatiable curiosity grew, along with your carelessness.

And with that carelessness came consequences.

Fate is a funny thing. You are sprinting through the forest, feet pounding against the dirt alongside the ghost of your childhood self. The enraged shouts have long since tapered into silence yet you can’t allow yourself to slow. Your limbs ache, a bone deep permafrost, fatigued muscles clenching.

They’d followed you yesterday. Unexpected, given how deliberately people avoided the village border. Everything collapsed in one fell swoop. A single misstep and your life was upturned. You heard their plans to confine you in the shrine and knew—you’d never be able to see Shouta again.

Lost in your muddied stream of consciousness your foot is caught in a bundle of jagged roots. Mossy fingers coil around your ankle. You stumble, taking impact to the knees. The sting is muted as it knocks the air from your burning lungs.

You gasp, a wet and raspy breath; an apocalyptic spring fills your chest. The trees are in bloom. High above the blossoms are pale pink, like branches covered in snow. Ash flowers fell slowly to coat the ground. They get in your hair, your clothes and your eyes.

Shouta finds you there. He has always had the uncanny ability to sense you in his territory, as though the forest were an extension of himself. Your neck strains to lift your head, looking through lashes to see his silhouette. Red eyes flash in the distance, and in a mere blink he is at your side.

“Shouta—”

A low, guttural sound reverberates in the back of his throat. You’re scooped into his embrace. He is gentle with you, always aware of the difference in size and strength, and your heart beats harder for it. “You’re early,” he says. “What happened?”

You exhale through the fresh tenderness searing, “They know”.

Shadows shift above you. A curtain of hair hangs in your periphery. Shouta sinks until your eyes are level. Big. He hit a frightening growth spurt after his juvenile shed. A broad chest, shoulders corded with muscle, his long tail heavy enough to disturb the natural topography of the forest floor. Uneven scars littered across his skin from territorial disputes that you were not privy to. The most recent curves along his right cheekbone, fresh and pink.

Your gaze lingered as you took in his expression. Mouth downturned in obvious discontent but eyes dark, pensive. Beautiful even when he is doing nothing at all.

Shouta’s irises flickered in the softening light of the afternoon sun. Fingers drumming on lacquer scales. “They know?” he repeats. Irritation coated the words, as it often did when speaking of your village. “They should have realised years ago”.

Like him, you had shed your own urgent adolescence. The world became smaller and you preferred it that way. It spun around Shouta as if he were your own axis. When you were with him there was something much bigger than childlike wonder.

“That’s different. I wasn’t anything important. But now I’ve… been slacking on my duties to see you,” embarrassed, you tear up the thinning grass, seated at the foot of his coils. “I’m old enough to be of use, so my absence is noticeable,”

“You were a child. Running off God knows where. You’re lucky an orc didn’t decide to pick his teeth with you,” the snap in his voice almost hurt, but there was no bite nor true anger aimed at you. You’ve had these arguments before.

“I’m lucky because I had you to protect me,” you amended gently, a small smile curled at the corner of your mouth. It took a while for you to realise that he tailed you home each time you visited, just to be sure. His scales shift at your back, carrying the praise through his body. “I know it bothers you, Shouta, but this is just how things are. Don’t worry, I’ll be more careful from now on”.

“This is not about you being careful,” Shouta mutters, though you get the sense he has no energy to truly argue. You hesitate in the brief silence. He takes you by the wrist, not the hand, and you pout about it.

He encourages you to come. You tread through the thick, clammy air as the sun beats down on your shoulders. Shouta takes you up the valley. Where the treeline ends the mouth of the river funnels south, surface glittering softly as the currents part around a large rock in the centre; top smoothed down flat for sunning. You watched while he sunk into the water, tail disappearing behind him as it submerged and disturbed the silt.

“Come on,” he coaxes begrudgingly. You dither by the edge, picking at your sleeve.

“I can’t get my clothes wet”.

Shouta reaches the rock, bracing an arm against it. Draped in open sunlight he turns to level you with a flat look. “Then take them off. Don’t bother giving excuses. I already know you’re wounded, I can smell it”.

Shit. You wince, resting a hand over the marks across your ribs and hip. You were so sure he hadn’t noticed anything.

Anticipation churned in your stomach. You’ve never been nude in front of him before—though not for lack of wanting, and you suppose he himself has always been naked in human terms. You swallow down trepidation and lift your shirt over your head, gaze resolutely pointed away from the river, which rippled with every minute shift Shouta’s tail.

The currents are a cool caress against your body as you step into the river, soothing the bruises. Tentative, you wade further, arms folded over your breasts for some semblance of modesty. Once you’re standing in waist high water something hard, smooth—Shouta’s tail wraps around you and pulls you close.

“Deep water,” he mutters softly. You’re pressed skin to skin. His throat bobs and he looks away. “Can’t have you drowning”.

“Right,” you say, left breathless by the proximity. You can feel his chest rise and fall. Sinew and muscle expands. Rigid scales dotted along his navel press against your abdomen as he sprawled around the sunning rock. “Thank you”.

He hums in lieu of a response. Small waves lap up your spine as he adjusts his grip, holding you with one arm around your lower back. Shouta traces his thumb over the large mark on your pelvis, the claw tip catching. “You said they found out. So this is the result?”

You grimace weakly at the subject. It was naïve to hope he would let it go. “It’s my fault. I was careless,” you tried, slumped in his embrace as though filled with wet sand. “They’re just afraid of what they don’t understand. I should’ve tried to explain years ago—”

“You and your misplaced guilt,” Shouta’s jaw ticks. He inhales deeply, his next words quieter on a long exhale. “Stop rationalising their mistreatment. They’re stuck in their ways”.

“Maybe. But I…”

The truth was that an ugly part of you had never wanted them to change for the better. You wanted Shouta to yourself for as long as he’s willing and their ignorance made it so. Fear kept them away. But it also stoked their anger.

“I can’t help but wonder why they're so against it,” you tuck your chin and smile despite the lump lodged in your throat, suddenly feeling naked in all manner of ways. “They treat me like a curse. And I know it’s natural to fear what you don’t understand, but if they just knew you—!”

“Humans should fear my kind,” Shouta interrupts, a bite to his tone. Your eyes dipped low, and you traced your fingers over the intricate mosaic of scales across his clavicle to avoid his sharp gaze. A short moment passes. “Your association with me doesn’t make you a harbinger of ill omen,” he murmurs, sweeping his hand along the planes of your back in silent apology. “If anything you’ve been protecting them from one”.

You lift your head. His pupils dilate, soften. “I have?”

A broad palm wraps around the nape of your neck, the other resting over your bruised hip. Shouta’s thumb brushes over your pulse. “If not for your insistence and naïve altruism I would have killed them for neglecting you,” Shouta admitted, bringing you tighter to his front. You’re taken deeper, until your feet no longer reach the riverbed and the cold no longer bites.

“When will you prioritise yourself?” he continues. “I’m starting to think you would pull out your own teeth if it could guarantee you’d never hurt anyone”.

You smile, a little dazed by how favourably he regarded you. His skin is cool under your fingertips. “That’s not quite true,” you trace the scar beneath his eye and he slows, turning into your palm. The pad of your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. There you find those monstrous teeth, large and sharp behind his lips. The touch feels momentous, like something only lovers do. “And either way, I’d still have yours to protect me”.

Shouta rumbles at that. The vibrations loosen up the tension in your chest and satisfaction gathers warm in your belly. “Lean back,” he murmurs. Anticipation swoops through your belly as you recline in his arms, cradling you above the ripples to wash your body with his own hands.

“This water has healing properties. Further down the mountain the river splits and forms a hot spring,” Shouta’s claw-tipped fingers brush your nipple, pert under his attention. Your breath hitches. He pays it no mind, palm sliding over each breast and along your shoulders, wiping down the sweat and dirt. The pressure remains delicate around your waist, careful not to agitate the bruises.

Shouta kneads the soft parts of your body even after the filth is gone. You hum, allowing yourself to enjoy his attention. Everything feels heavier. Gravity bears hard on your arms as they lift to brush the wet hair back from his face and you marvel at how his eyelids flutter closed, one after the other. You comb through his roots, scratching lightly over his scalp before working loose the knots at the ends.

Something is beginning to swell beneath you but a quiet contentment overwhelms the reciprocal arousal stirring in your gut. Watching the tension in his face trickle away, eyes falling closed so dark lashes fan over pale cheeks. Your fingertips trace along the smattering of scales by his temple and notice a new vivid sheen to them.

“You look brighter,” you murmur, curious.

Awareness flies over his features. You almost miss it given how swiftly he buries it, taking on that familiar monotonous air. After years spent detailing the subtleties in every fleeting expression and spoken word you’ve become quite accustomed to Shouta concealing his embarrassment.

Turning away from your prying eyes, the line of his jaw becomes sharper as he swallows. “It’ll soon be my seasonal rut,” he tells you, feigning indifference. “My scales are more vibrant for the purpose of attracting a mate”.

“A mate?” you echo uselessly. Dread churns in the pit of your stomach. You knew well what having a ‘mate’ entailed. A white hot sensation prickles at your nape that not even the cool water can quell. In your naivety—and perhaps, selfishness—you’d never considered that he might find somebody else. Somebody suitable. “That’s… really great, Shouta. But who? I thought you chased off the last bed of naga that passed through?”

At this, a frown etched into Shouta’s brow. “You’re making a few unnecessary leaps in that head of yours,” he mutters. “At what point did I say my mate needed to be a naga?”

There’s something in his voice that gives weight to what he’s doing. It echoes an unspoken proposition. Unbidden from the recesses of your mind rose the wishful thoughts you’d imagined so often they were practically dogeared. A shiver trickled down your spine, caught in a gauzy yet comfortable silence as Shouta continued to clean your body.

The tip of his tongue peeks out to taste the air once he’s done. You fruitlessly will your body to temper its desire, to feign some semblance of control as you lift your head, no longer denying him the answer written plainly on your face.

“…I want that,” you confess, picking up the thread he left. You rub across his shoulders and bring your palms together in the middle of his chest, folded over his heart. “I can't go back. Take me home with you. Keep me”.

Shouta looks surprised—a microexpression, if anything; imperceptible to anyone but you—as though he hadn't expected you to accept. You’re warmed by the idea that he might’ve been hoping for more without expectation.

That’s all you’ve ever known, failed expectations.

A beat passes. You think he might be giving you a grace period—allowing time for a regret that never comes. When he realises you’ve no intention to take it back he sucks a hiss through his teeth, and you’re close enough to see his thin pupils spill into his irises until they’re inky black.

The river breaks around you, water foaming at the surface as Shouta unwittingly guides your knotted bodies to the shore. “I see you’re still as reckless as you were when we were children,” he says, sounding hoarse. “You have no idea what you’re agreeing to”.

“I’m saying yes to you, Shouta,” your voice strains, desperation creeping in when you feel his arms loosen and your feet brush the wet bank. “Teach me what I don’t know because I hate leaving. I hate missing you”.

The rough sensation of Shouta’s scales against your inner thighs rippled through your body, core tightening as he retained his grip around your waist. “This is not a conversation we’re having in the open,” he takes you both out of the water and you shy away from the cool air.

He bends over to collect your clothes and drapes them in your naked lap. You clutch the fabric close, “Where are we going?”

“To my den. No questions until then”.

The journey to Shouta’s den is long, deliberately so. Caught in his coils you go, without trepidation—like a willing little mouse, your mind whispers. Only on the third cycle do you realise that he is purposefully traveling in circles to cover his tracks. Aside from the occasional birdsong and cicada you don’t hear anything for miles. It’s so peaceful that you forget that a world exists outside of this vast, sprawling forest.

In time he reaches the den. The sky has darkened to an early dawn, the gloaming orange light casting shadows over Shouta’s face as he leans over you to shield you from the overgrowth to get to the entrance.

Arched tall and gaping, the bumpy outer walls of the cave are fissured with fingerlings of old tree roots. Shrouded in darkness, Shouta slithers around the stalagmites protruding from the floor with ease. Inside the air is thick, humid as he carries you deeper, metres further down, refusing to release you from his coils.

Meandering into a broader section, Shouta spreads out easily in the cavern. You blink around as your vision adjusts and notice narrow streams of light threading through the stalactites hung on the ceiling. Twinkling are various trinkets, tied around and dangling from the spikes. Jewels, chainmail, rusted daggers, cutlery.

When you were a young you’d spend sleepless nights imagining where Shouta lived, conjuring possibilities only a child could. Despite that curiosity you never asked to see his home—you knew, innately, as an avid observer of creatures big and small, that it would be an invasion of his privacy. But of everything you imagined it had been nothing like this.

There’s a wide alcove at the back of the cavern, housing what appears to be a nest near an extinguished fire pit, still carrying the faint scent of smoke. Shouta lowers you into it and slinks away for a moment to discard your clothes. Warmth engulfs you, insulated in the structure. There are branches both large and small intricately woven and padded with an assortment of pelts, lichen and moss. Most notable is the snakeskin used to hold together the joints of the nest.

You pinch a piece delicately between your thumb and forefinger. It’s thick, smoother than expected. “Is this yours?”

Though far off his voice reaches your ears, “Is that your first question?”

Shouta returns holding what looks to be a blanket. His tail drags behind him. The sound ripples around the space. When shaken out and draped over your bare lower half you discover that the blanket is actually the rest of his shed. It’s beautiful, inexplicably silky while being heavy and tough.

You tug the snakeskin higher up your body and note how fervently he tracks the movement. “Yes, it’s mine. It strengthens the nest,” Shouta explains, beginning a languorous dance circling the nest as though he were adding himself to it. Your attention does not stray as his tail coils upon itself, lap after lap until you’re entirely surrounded.

“You’ve been planning this,” you comment. How long had it taken for him to craft it? Did he imagine what you’d think? “It’s beautiful”.

Pleased with the height, Shouta’s upper body slinks down into the centre where you wait. Home. Not simply a place but an extension of his body, like the forest. You’re directly in the heart. A place that you alone have been allowed to see.

Your mind drifts to the feckless creatures and travelers who’ve wandered this way only to be killed. But rather than fear, or sorrow, a distinctive emotion welled up inside you. You felt special.

“It’s mainly instinct. Not much planning,” he says.

You reach to cup his cold face in your hands. Cheeks flush, like all the blood in him had rushed to the surface to greet you. He rumbles as your thumb traces an arc along his newest scar, tucking his chin to nuzzle into your palm. It’s cute, though you wouldn’t dare say that.

A content hum vibrates behind his ribs, “You’re so warm”. Then you feel the tentative press of lips and of fangs underneath. He kisses your heartline. You falter at the uncharacteristic show of affection, clutching his snakeskin tighter. His dark gaze falls to your partially covered chest. Low and supple he asks, “Do you know what it means to wear a naga skin?”

You slowly shake your head.

“Naga gift their sheds to be used in nests or as armour for their mates,” propped onto his arm Shouta presses closer, forcing your thighs to bracket the thick of his tail. “It’s viewed as a public claim,” he stops short a hair's breadth from your wanting mouth, sharing a shallow inhale.

Filled with intrepid awe, your fingertips walk the slope of his throat, hands laying flat to his chest. A hummingbird’s wing, a pulse belying his nerves. You reach for your voice, “Does this make me yours?”

Shouta blinks, pupils dilating. The distant trickle of water dripping from the stalactites echoes throughout the cavern. You feel his stomach clench where your touch slips lower, “Are you sure you want to be?”

“Since you fed me those berries in the east valley”.

“You were a child,” Shouta huffs, doing a poor job at appearing unaffected.

“Children sometimes imagine falling in love, you know,” a small, sad smile comes unbidden to your lips. “I never had anyone to play pretend with,” you tell him softly, meeting his eyes. “You always took care of me. Back then I wondered if that’s what it’d be like to have a husband when I came of age”.

With a furrow in his brow, Shouta cradles your jaw. He tucks his thumb against the corner of your downturned mouth, “A husband?”

“The human equivalent of a mate. A husband or wife,” you say. “Marriage is a promise to be together for the rest of your lives”.

“And you want that. The rest of your life,” Shouta’s words are hoarse, they sound thick in his throat. He brings your foreheads together, almost reverential, and dark tendrils of hair fall around you. “With me?”

You swallow. “Yes. I want…”

Your wandering hand stills at his navel, right in the bend where skin turned to scale. You’re reminded that he isn’t a human man. What you’ve been taught about sex and the parts that go along with the act—that knowledge is mostly worthless here.

Curious, you palm the growing bump where a cock would be, index finger tracing the thin slit along the middle, teasing him as you would tease yourself. Shouta grabs your wrist, arm braced above your head to rock into the touch, a frisson of iridescence rippling through his scales.

The airy groan in his throat quells your anxiety and feeds your longing. Chin tilted, your mouths aligned, a petal-soft brush that shakes him from his reverie and draws him back. You complain and curl your arms around his neck, missing him. He huffs a short laugh but doesn’t retreat any further.

“Careful,” he lifts his upper lip and pushes the tip of his tongue to his left fang. A pinprick of his blood wells there. “You’ll catch yourself”.

“Are you venomous?” and you pout, noticing the mirth flickering across his face. “What?”

“Not in the way you’re imagining. Pay attention,” he answers, and bends to tuck his nose into the hollow of your throat. His jaw unhinges, tasting you with a deep inhale. Oh. Your pulse rockets when he drags his fangs there in suggestion of a bite—breath held as they barely break skin and an abrupt heat tingles around the scratch.

“Wh—what does it do?” you gasp in wonder, poking the blooming mark as Shouta hums, descending to drag his lips over the peaks of your breasts.

“Humans call it a lot of things. An aphrodisiac, drug, relaxant,” he says. Each word is a kiss left everywhere but the one place you need it. Blood rushes to your ears. “A mating bite eases the burden. Makes sure your body ready for me,” you watch on with bated breath while he reaches lower, and jolt, ensnared in his half lidded gaze as he lightly drags his knuckles through your wet folds. His thumb finds your clit, massaging a few light circles around the swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips twitch, and Shouta grins at your soft whine, “Though you’re already doing that beautifully on your own”.

Desperate, you grapple at his shoulders. He rises with an indulgent smile and you lean to kiss him. A clumsy thing, open mouthed and needy, receding enough to make room for protest before kissing him again, and again, nipping the seam of his lips. Hair stands on end as the world suddenly tips on its axis and your positions are reversed.

You’ve no chance to mourn the loss. Shouta lay on his back. He sinks into the nest and draws your knee over his hip. A shiver licks up your spine as you sit low on his navel, entirely bare and wet; with him being so sensitive to his surroundings there’s no doubt he can feel the beat of desire between your thighs.

The flesh spills between his fingers as Shouta squeezes your waist. “I can feel you throbbing,” he murmurs. His own heat is swelling between you. Sticky arousal smeared on your inner thighs. Shouta’s vent pulses in time with his heart—and yours. You exhale a shaky breath, relieved and exhilarated that he wants you too. The growing pressure pushes against your clit and your hips twitch, a fleeting stutter to relieve the ache.

Shouta groans. Large hands find purchase at your hips, appreciating how your body yields to his touch, and encourages you to move. “Oh,” comes a soft gasp, feeling his swollen slit flower open beneath your cunt, leaking arousal. The friction, or lack thereof, is incredible, and you repeat the motion, seeking it again.

It’s slick where your bodies meet. The obscene wet sound of you rocking together leaves you dazed. Shouta’s lower half shifts as arousal zips through him and the nest creaks. “Fuck, feels good. More,” you demand breathlessly. Something else nudges against your clit with every pass, two heads budding from the vent, and your eyes screw shut—

Two?

A groan falls from Shouta’s mouth and your frantic realisation dissolves. You can hardly think. He licks the curve of your throat, nuzzling the barely-there-mark he’d left. Infinitesimal and yet it hasn’t stopped throbbing. An ache spreads through your hips, his hands rutting you against the swell with a desperate rhythm.

“Shouta,” you say, overwhelmed. “Do it. Bite me, fuck me, please. Please. I want—I want to—!”

The sharp pain is dulled so quickly you’re not sure it was ever there. Shouta sank his fangs into the juncture of your neck, a hand firm at your nape to keep you still. Vision blurred, your mouth drops open around a silent scream as your orgasm rips through you—the venom close behind, forcing your seized muscles pliant and stoking your arousal until it’s burning from the inside out.

Shouta releases your neck and trails his fingertips along the length of your back. You whine, a helpless and confused little sound, when the heat allays under his affections. Your thighs are trembling, slipping down his hips as you use the last of your inertia to curl into his chest.

He cradles your limp form amongst his coils, creating a protective barrier around you in such a vulnerable state. “I have you,” he says, the shaky baritone of his voice coaxing your eyes open. Half-cognisant, not quite in and not quite outside of yourself.

“…It’s too much,” you pant.

“I know,” Shouta kisses your temple, paving his way to the corner of your mouth, “You’re doing so well”.

You turn lazily into the kiss. Your thighs have fallen open further, and you subconsciously raise yourself up to better the angle. The blunt tip of one of his cocks nudges through your folds and a white hot sensation prickles over your skull. Shouta lowers you onto his cock with care, muscles corded tight in obvious restraint, wanting to ease you into the stretch. He’s thicker than a human, subtle soft ridges lining the sides, caressing you in places your fingers could never reach.

You begin to tremble and the air is pushed from your lungs with a gasping sob as he splits you open. The sensation is hard to decipher through the haze. Your ears ring, the sound high and metallic. It isn’t numbing—no, you can feel everything, every minute shift, pulse and ridge. It’s an intrusive, satisfying ache, an insurmountable pressure. There’s no part of you he isn’t touching. You consider, the thought vague and half-formed, that when Shouta bit you something in your brain must’ve rewired itself. Synapses crossed, addled by venom, convincing you of pleasure where there would otherwise be pain.

Your small world grows ever smaller. Shouta is all encompassing. His dark hair is tickling your face, smooth scales rippling under your cheek. He’s saying something—he must be, because his mouth is moving above you, murmuring what sounds like sweet incantations of your name.

An immaculate red glow pools into his irises as they roll skyward, brow furrowed in concentration. His second cock drools across his belly, where it lay trapped by your bodies. The slick underside of his cock wet and pulsing against your clit, fully sheathed.

“Do you have any idea how you feel—fuck,” Shouta’s jaw clenched as his cock recedes, leaving only the tip kissing your folds, before he fucks into you again. A shudder quakes through his coils. They constrict around the nest and Shouta pins you to his chest, thick arms held firm around your shoulders and back, tightening with every squirm. “Mine. Knew it had to be you,” came his hushed babbles, composure finally fraying at the seams.

With the surety that you’re not in pain, his pace grows, his rhythm earnest. Laved in shared arousal, you’re so wet every ingress is indelibly easy. To call yourself helpless would be to imply that you wanted to escape. You surrender to the unending, overbearing rapture, sprawled over your Shouta’s lap like a pile of loose skeins with a drunken smile. Chest heaving in exertion despite doing so little. The atmosphere is so oppressively humid that it’s hard to catch your breath.

It feels like he’s carving out something irreplaceable inside of you. A space that only he can fill, a craving only he can sate. Your hips stutter uselessly, grinding your clit against his other cock. Rather than building to a climax it feels as if you’ve toppled into one that never ends, only ebbs and flows without ever ceasing.

Shouta pulls you impossibly closer, so close your could feel the long stretch of his torso, every raised scar and curve. He nudges your temple until your head lolls back against his shoulder, and you’re looking at him. “Soft. You’re so—shit. You’re so soft. Human,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to your forehead. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow, short tendrils of hair sticking to skin. You flutter around the flared head of his cock as it pulls out, “Look. I can feel you sucking me back in. Made for me, weren’t you?”

You follow his gaze, watching the dark, inhuman length of his cock disappear into your folds again and again, strings of moisture stretching between you. “Shouta,” his name feels thick in your mouth. You blink, air cool against your wet cheeks. “I need—I need you to—”

Nodding deliriously, his bruising grasp on you shifts. Shouta fucks into you feverishly, with an intensity that you fear might engulf you.“Fuck—!” a tremor quakes through his coils. Something audibly snaps in the nest. Shouta’s hips stutter, a long, breathy moan pulled loose deep in his chest, drawn out as a wet, sticky heat fills you—so much that it leaks between your thighs—and the immediate relief of his release has you clawing crescent moons into his shoulders.

Tipping over the crest, a final wave crashes over you. The convulsions force your eyes shut, so tight that pinpricks of light pierce the solid darkness, transforming into a kaleidoscope of vivid colour. The world falls away for a fleeting moment and you only feel yourself clamping around his cock, soaking his lap.

You resurface slowly, as does the sensation returning to your limbs. Venom remedied, easing in your system. You inhale, wince at the tenderness making space beside the contentment in your body, and Shouta runs a smoothing hand down your spine. It sweeps back up to your nape to gently trace the bite on your neck. “How’re you feeling?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”

You press a kiss to his collar, another under his jaw, “I’m sore and sticky. I’ve never orgasmed that hard in my life. But you didn’t hurt me”. Shouta purrs at that. It’s a noise you’ve only ever heard in the golden hour, when he’s sunning himself. Pure contentment.

You cup his cheek and gently turn him to face you. You kiss him, mouth bruised, fangs peeking through parted lips. Dark eyes soften. He’s no longer inside of you, noted with a weak clench, and his second cock remains half hard between your stomachs. Free to move, you wiggle in his embrace until it lines up, the suggestion kindling to the now twinging emptiness.

Shouta huffs, a loving admonishment, and carefully guides his second cock inside you. You hiss at the sensitivity but it isn’t unpleasant. Satisfaction balloons in your chest and you curl up against him with a pleased hum; no urgency, together for the sake of closeness.

“I’ll feed you and help you wash after I’ve calmed down,” he says. There’s no sign of discomfort or regret in his voice as he stares toward the mouth of the cave. Just a primal need to be alert, to stay vigilant for his mate. “I’ll be a little overbearing for the rest of the night. Be patient with me”.

Your gaze too lingers at the maw, recalling those blood-steeped, ugly stories of monstrous creatures. Indeed there are monsters in the night. But none of them are here.

A wide smile pulls at your lips, “We’ve got all the time in the world”.

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚" (Aemond x Reader)

A/N: I want to first say. I STRUGGLE with writing dialogue in different periods. So if I make this into a fic it is going to take me so long because I will have to read other people's stories and rewatch the show so the dialogue can be somewhat realistic. Hopefully, I do well...If not. Don't tell me shit. I don't wanna hear it. // Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: You return with your family to King's Landing to defend Lucerys against your uncle Vaemond but he is not the uncle you worry about. Your mind is filled with the man you were once betrothed to what he will say when he sees you, and how he will act. You worry about how your Uncle Aemond will treat you after all this time.

Next Chapter →

Tw: Oral Sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 5.4k (an absolute fucking monstrosity written in a couple hours)

"Would say it's nice to be home but I scarcely recognize it." Daemon hums slightly before walking around looking at every bit of the wall in disgust. Rhaenyra turns to you and your brothers. "I trust you three will stay out of trouble while we go visit your grandsire?"

Your brothers nod their heads as you all take your turn to look over what was once your home. It feels...darker than it did when you lived here, almost abandoned. If it was not for the servants walking around you would think it was.

Rhaenyra and Daemon walk away leaving you and your brothers.

"Come on. I want to see if that hole is still in the wall in the training yard." Luke rolls his eyes at the stupid memory which makes you smile. You follow after them as they try to recall the way there.

You don't listen to their conversation as Jace points out the hole that still remains. You can barely pay attention to anything anyone is saying. Your brain has been in panic mode since the moment you were told you would be returning here.

Scared to face your previous betrothed. You feel someone's hands wrap around yours and snap you out of your thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Luke says softly and looks at you worriedly. You nod and ruffle his hair with a smile.

"Im fine. Just...feels weird being back." He doesn't let go of your hand. You notice as he looks around at all the people staring at him and Jace. It had always been like this, people often compared you to your brothers in how different you looked. How you carried Targaryen features while they resembled Harwin Strong.

Unknown to you or your brothers at the time Rhaenyra and Laenor did truly try to conceive at least one trueborn child. But in the end, it was all too uncomfortable for them. It was only on their second try did they attempt it in another way. Laenor at first stayed in the room alone getting himself just before his peak so that when Rhaenyra came in all he had to do was empty himself inside of her. That one time resulted in you. The only child related to Laenor in both blood and name.

Jace comes and pulls Luke away to watch a fight you couldn't care less about. You walked around the yard looking at the various weapons laid out. You knew that you could fight far better than most of the men here, having been trained by Daemon himself.

Bored by the dusty swords and daggers you turn to watch the fight from the other side. Your heart dropped into your ass as you see the man before you.

He was tall...you always thought he would be. His hair sadly no longer carried those curls that once coiled around your fingers as he read to you. An eyepatch sat over his eye breaking your heart as you recalled the night.

"Get off of him!" "Stop it, Jace!" "Don't hurt him!"

You clamped your eyes closed wanting to fight off the painful memory. You were weak then, unable to help. You couldn't protect him in any way that mattered.

The claps of everyone around you had you opening your eyes once more. You watched as Aemond bested Criston in a duel.

"Well done, my prince, You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys. Nephews...have you come to train?" You see the look on Luke's face and you feel bad for him. He and Jace had spent most of their time trying to learn High Valyrian and barely picked up a sword unless forced to. Aemond had clearly spent all his time training since the accident.

"Open the gates!" Everyone turns to watch as the guards open the gates and men carrying the banners of Velaryon walk in. You walk over to your brothers and hold onto Luke's hands as Vaemond passes by staring Luke down. Vamond's expression only softens as he looks at you and he offers you a warm smile.

The same smile he had given you at Laena's funeral as he took the opportunity to call your brother's bastards in such a sad time. You hear Luke audibly gulp and you try to soothe him by running your fingers over his knuckles.

"Let's go inside." You place a hand on Jace's back to calm him down as you notice the look of anger on his face at the sight of Vaemond.

As you turn to enter the Red Keep your eyes automatically land on Aemond who now wears an expression you can't quite place. His eyes are only on you and for a moment it feels like there's only you two but Jace is quick to step in front of your view and to give Aemond a look you can't see. Whatever it is has him turning around in anger and returning to sparring with Criston.

You walk with Rhaenyra and Rhaena towards Rhaenys.

"Grandmother" Rhaena calls out and basically runs over to her. You follow behind her.

"Rhaena..." Rhaena stands before her as Rhaenys holds her hand. You step beside her and Rhaenys looks over to you. She steps forward and places a hand on your cheek. "You two have grown beautifully." She kisses both of your cheeks.

"Baela said you might be here." Your mother comes closer, each step wary. "She's done well as your ward. You've um... raised her admirably." Rhaenys doesn't look over and keeps her eyes trained on both you and Rhaena.

"You honour me, Princess." Rhaenys smiles softly at Rhaenyra.

"Might I speak to the Princess alone, girls?" Rhaena looks to your grandmother almost for permission. She nods and lets go of both of you.

"Princess." Rhaena begins to walk away. You give your grandmother another kiss on the cheek before leaving.

Rhaenyra smiles at you as you walk away to join Rhaena.

"What do you think they're talking about?" You both look back once more before heading inside.

"I have no idea." You look at your mother who steps closer to your grandmother. Rhaene takes your arm and you turn to her. "Come. Let us go find the boys."

That night it rained and the sound of thunder filled your old chambers. His face filled your memories. His voice echoed in your ears.

"Can I kiss you Aemond?" Your fingertips ran over the dip of his lips as you imagined what they would feel like on yours."You never have to ask Princess."

You touch your lips at the memory of your first kiss. The only kiss you ever got to share with him. How soft his kiss was, how gentle he was. Your lips yearned for another kiss. Your body begs for his warmth and your heart breaks. It breaks at the memory of when your betrothal was cancelled when you knew the future you both talked about would never happen.

"How many children will we have?" Your head lay in his lap as he read a book, his fingers twirling your hair as you pick the petals of a flower. "As many as you are willing to bear me, Princess." You blush brightly which only brings a smile to his face. But your brain always knows how to ruin the moment as a new thought plagues your mind."Would you be angry at me if I had a girl first?" Aemond closes his book and looks down at you. "I could never be angry at you."

You sat up in your bed to the sound of a knock at the door. Your hands roughly smooth over your head pushing your hair back as if it wipes away the memories and dreams.

How can one live like this? How can one continue on in life like this? He is in every breath you take, every time you close your eyes his face decorates the darkness that you simply wish would consume you. You are reminded of him in every waking moment of your life.

Another knock comes to your chamber doors and you know you have no choice but to start your day. You sweat at the thought of seeing him again.

Will he keep to his words? Will he not be angry with you for being gone for so long? For not sending any letters? You did not want to find out. In truth you just want to stay in your chambers all day and sleep, but for the sake of Luke you would attend the hearing.

"The crown will now hear the petitions." Otto sits on the throne as his voice echoes throughout the hall. "Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Vaemond steps forward as everyone looks towards him. Everyone but Aemond. You can see him in the corner of your eye his gaze is focused on you. Never looking away, never taking a break.

You stand next to Daemon looking forward. Knowing that if you even willed your eyes to move it would land on him. And you couldn't bear to look at him.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand." Vaemond then goes on to talk about the history and the days of Old Valyria. You can't hear him, you can't hear anything once more over the beating of your heart.

"Iksis bisa iā qogror iā elekor?" [Is this a class or a hearing?] Daemon whispers to you. He notices your rigid stance and how you're taking in shallow breaths. He places a hand on your elbow and you look over to him. He gives you a look of "Are you ok?" to which you nod.

He returns back to staring Vaemond down hoping he will eventually burn holes into the side of his head and will fall dead where he stands but not everyone is that lucky. It is only then that he notices a one-eye fucker staring in his direction. He shifts his gaze and notices Aemond staring at you. Aemond can feel someone looking at him and looking towards Daemon before pressing his lips in a thin line and giving Vaemond his attention.

"As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." You are snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your mother's voice. You look over to her. "If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful hair." Vaemond holds a look of anger towards her. "No, you only speak for yourself. and for your own ambition."

"You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenyra." You look towards Alicent. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Next to her, you see the smirks of both Aegon and Aemond. You know they enjoy this, seeing Luke be openly called a bastard.

Why are your brothers blamed and dragged through the mud for what your mother has done? Are they not innocent in their own conceivement?

Vaemond gives Alicent a slight nod before turning towards your family.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" He speaks to your mother in a condescending tone. "I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it."

Your heart twinges for your mother. You feel conflicted all the time. On one hand, your brothers are indeed not blood-related to your father. But he had accepted them as his sons publicly no doubt. What could he have done for people to recognize them as his children? On the other hand, Vaemond proves a point in matters of blood. But is it not the last names people remember?

They both ride dragons, and they learn the tongue of the dragon. They are everything Targaryen but in matters of looks and blood. But that is more than enough for people to shun them. You want to side with them with your full heart, but how can you when you understand the opposition's points?

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

You look up in awe as you watch your grandsire slowly walk into the room. The only sound was the tapping of his cane against the floor. You had not seen him in so long, he looked so old and different. Hunched over and in pain.

You watch as he makes his way up to the throne and Daemon aids him. Otto moves over to stand next to Alicent and you can see the confusion and anger on his face. His plans are ruined and whatever chance he had at getting the Velaryons on their side is squandered.

"I must...admit...my confusion." Your grandsire breathes quickly as he tries to regain his strength. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." You listen as he calls for your grandmother to speak.

You feel hot. This room feels hot. You pull repeatedly at the band on your wrist. A coping mechanism you developed when you felt so far away from everything. You snap the band against your wrist as you listen to your grandmother who only further pushes for Corly's wishes for Lucerys to be the next Lord of the Tides. You miss her announcing the marriage between your brothers and cousins.

You can't focus. He is still staring at you. You make the mistake of closing your eyes cause when you open them they are on him. You take in a sharp breath and stare back at him. Your heart feels as though someone is squeezing it, your chest heavy as if a dragon sits atop it. You want nothing more than to go over there but you keep your feet planted.

"That is no true Velaryon." You jump slightly looking towards your uncle as he angrily points at Luke. "and certainly no nephew of mine." Your mother tells your brothers to head to their chambers before attempting to silence Vaemond.

"You can not all be blind surely? To look upon both my grandniece and her sons and think they share the same father?" Everyone looks at you and for a moment you wish you could shrink into the walls, fade into the people behind you. "She even skips her daughter so that her son could inherit Driftmark when it belongs to my niece. She wishes to cover her tracks and erase my niece's future." You've never felt that way. You were never upset at your mother's decisions. Maybe you always assumed you'd end up with Aemond. "Gods be damned...I will not see it ended on the account of this-" Your eyes widen as you realize what he wishes to say.

You feel a heat radiate beside you and notice the body language of Daemon has changed. A hand rests on his sword as his head is cocked to the side.

"Say it." He whispers softly. Vaemond gives Daemon a smug look.

"Her sons...are BASTARDS! And she...is...a whore." Everyone gasps and you notice the heat beside you is missing. You watch as King Viserys unsheaths his dagger and calls for your uncle's tongue.

You then hear a thud and turn and see Vaemond's body hit the floor. His head was cut off at the mouth, his tongue still attached. Much happens in those moments but your eyes stay on Vaemond's body. It is only when your mother places a hand on your cheek you look away.

"Go with your grandmother. She might need comfort."

You stand next to Rhaenys, holding her hand as the silent sisters work on your uncle.

"Did you ever feel that way, little ocean?" You look over to her as her eyes are trained upon his seperated head. "As if your mother was trying to erase you?"

"No, grandmother. To be honest. I had always imagined myself living here, in the Red Keep." You looked around the room watching the sisters move slowly and carefully.

"Married to Aemond." Your quick to look back towards her she offers you a faint smile before turning to you. "Come back with me, to Driftmark. Your grandsire would love to see you and I have missed your presence." You nod, not caring to say that you should ask the permission of your mother and father.

The Grand Maester walks over and speaks. You stare at the body of your uncle once more. Is this justice? He called your mother a whore and your brother bastards...but was he wrong?

"The Stranger has visited me more times than I can count, Grand Maester." You feel her squeeze your hand. "I assure you, he cares little whether my eyes are open or closed." You watch as he leaves. "You should go, little ocean. Your grandsire wishes for you to eat with your family."

"Will you not dine with us?" You brush your fingers against her hand.

"I fear I have lost my appetite." She kisses your head. "We will take our leave on the morrow." You nod before leaving the room with a final look towards your uncle.

As you enter the dining hall your family is already there. The table already has its sides. On the right sit your mother and your family and on the left sit the Queen and hers. The separation hurts you and you wish you could do something about it. Mend it in whatever way possible. You would give your own life if it meant uniting your family.

Jacerys offers his seat so you can sit next to Baela and he moves to her other side. The switch puts you next to Aegon but you do not mind. He has never been one to bother you before, and only ever makes small jokes, which you would never admit to his face, can be funny.

"Mother?" Rhaenyra turns in her chair towards you.

"Yes, my heart?" She places a hand on your arm you smile at the name. Each one of you had one, Jace was often referred to as her love, Luke as her sweet boy, and you her heart.

"Grandmother has requested I return with her to Driftmark... I'd like to. To see grandsire, if that is all right with you." She smiles softly and brings your hand to her lips as she kisses it.

"Of course." You hear the doors open and see your grandsire being carried in. "We will talk more later. Go sit." You walk over to your chair and stand until he is placed in his spot.

As you walk over you look up and see his eyes on you once more. He stands at the head of the table watching you. You sit only when you notice everyone else does and clasp your hands together when Alicent calls for prayer. You've read about the Seven and know only as much as books taught you. You hear Alicent's prayer but you pray your own. You ask The Warrior and The Smith to give you strength, you beg for forgiveness from The Maiden for your thoughts and acknowledge The Stranger, for you both feel like outcasts in this world.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena." It is only then that you feel the weight of his gaze lift, as he looks at your brother on the other end of the table. Your grandsire calls for a toast to your brothers. He calls for another toast for Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides.

"I also want to say. How beautifully my granddaughter has grown." You feel the eyes of everyone turn to you, and your mother smiles. Even Alicent gives you a genuine gentle smile. "Im sure by your next nameday we will have found a suitable match for your hand. Let us toast in hopes you will find someone deserving of you." Everyone raises their glass.

But it is only Aemond who does not. You watch as Aegon leans over you towards Baela.

"He does know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

"Let it be cousin," Baela responds clearly annoyed. Jace responds but you don't hear it whatever he says has Aegon sitting back down fully in his seat.

You stare forward as King Viserys makes a speech. You return to snapping the band against your wrist as you again feel the heat of his stare. Words are shared between the Queen and your mother before Aegon gets up and sets himself in between Baela and Jace.

"I, um I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask-" Jace bangs his hands on the table before standing up which leads to Aemond standing up as well ready to protect his brother if need be.

Aegon sits down quickly next to you. More speeches go on, too many speeches. You wish everyone would just shut up so we can all be done with this dinner. Either that or let us remove our masks and speak the truth. You have grown tired of this tension and fake genuineness.

You remain next to Aegon as food is brought out and Jace takes Helaena to dance. You can see the look on his face. He looks over your family with a sort of longing. Everything he has ever wanted on display in front of him.

"Would you care to dance uncle?" He looks over to you with a surprised look on his face. He puts down his cup and is about to put out his hand when someone clears their throat. You look over to the noise and see Aemond staring at the two of you.

"Not if I wish to lose my head." He picks his cup back up and returns to watching everyone. You look over to Aemond who only stares at you with no emotion.

You watch as guards walk over to your grandsire and take him away. You make a plan in your head to go visit him tonight to speak to him.

The mood is only spoiled as a pig is placed in front of Aemond. You hear the light chuckles of Luke and curse him in your head. You flinch as Aemond's hand bangs the table and he stands up picking up his cup.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke...and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise..." And in that pause alone you feel that separation between families grow. "...strong. Come...let us drain our cups to these three strong boys."

"I dare you say that again." You tense as Jace speaks already being able to tell where this is going.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond lowers his cups and walks over to Jace. "Do you not think yourself strong?" Jace punches Aemond...or...attempts to. Aemond still stands unwavering and not a drop spilt from his cup.

Aegon grabs Luke who tries to walk over to help Jace and slams his head on the table. You stand up and walk over to Aegon and pull his hair, yanking his head back. He releases Luke and only smiles up at you. You put him in the same position he had your brother in, slamming his head against the table and holding him down until guards come and step in between you two.

You remain standing at the chairs as the sides are made once more. You stand somewhat in the middle. Jace attempts to run back over to Aemond but Daemon steps in front of him.

"Go to your quarters. All of you go now." Your siblings and cousins leave but you remain still standing in your spot. You watch as Aemond and Daemon stare at each other silently. Aemond then turns to you and so does everyone else, he looks at you and then hums to himself as he walks out of the room.

"Come little rogue." Daemon puts his arm out for you. You take his arm, your mother pats your cheek and you follow him out of the room.

You sit in your mother and Daemon's chambers caring for young Aegon and Viserys along with a couple of maids.

Your mother walks in and takes a seat next to Daemon.

"I will see the boys home. Then I will return on dragonback." She holds Daemon's hand.

"Just the boys?" He asks looking over at you.

"Grandmother has asked me to return with her and Baela to Driftmark." He nods.

"Head to bed rogue." You nod and stand up walking over to your parents. You kiss your mother's cheek and place a hand on her stomach before walking past Daemon and pulling on the small ponytail in his hair softly and leaving the room.

Daemon watches as you leave with a smirk on his face and waits until the door is closed to speak.

"Did you see the way he looked at her?" Rhaenyra is taken aback by Daemon's tone. He stands up and paces.

"Who, my love?" She rubs her belly as she watches her children play.

"Aemond." He scowls. "He's been looking at her since we arrived as if he wants to take her where she stands. Which is impressive since the fucker only has one eye." he sits back down.

"They were once betrothed Daemon. Before that, they were closer than any of the kids. They spent all their free time together." She smirks at her husbands's protectiveness. It didn't take long for him to see you as one of his own daughters.

"We should discuss her future marriage. Maybe it's time we start looking for a husband for her." Rhaenyra nods.

"We will speak to her about it when she returns from Driftmark. Vaemond was right about one thing...she is being erased...I had not realized I was doing that." Daemon took her hand and placed the other on her bump.

"That fucker didn't know what he was talking about. You are a great mother to her, and she has had no complaints about her inheritance." She knows he's right.

"Nonetheless. If there is one thing I can give her is a choice. She will decide who she marries. I would feel better knowing it's a man of her own choosing."

Your handmaids leave the room once you're finished being dressed for bed. You sit in front of your vanity staring at yourself.

When had you become someone you didn't recognize? When did you begin just walking the earth instead of living on it? When had you become so...lonely.

You walk over to the balcony and step outside. Pulling your robe tighter to your body against the cold air. You close your eyes and though you aren't sure who it is you are speaking to you beg them to help you. To bring you happiness and peace.

"Mandianna" You hear him from behind you. You turn around slowly and see him standing inside your room. You slowly walk in and close the balcony doors behind you, locking them.

"...Aemond..." You move to take another step to him but he raises a hand.

"For as long as I can remember you...Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you." You take a deep breath as he speaks. "And now that you're here...I'm in agony." He takes a step towards you. "The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you...I can't breathe." He stops in front of you a hand on your cheek. "I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar." He lowers his head so he hovers just above your lips. "You are in my very soul, tormenting me...what can I do? I will do anything you ask."

You stare up into his eyes and feel drawn into them. You drown in them putting up no fight. Wanting to feel that darkness that has followed you all these years surround you.

"Kiss me." And he does and it is everything you've imagined. You give him full reign and kisses you with the same intensity that a drowning man comes up for air.

When he finally pulls away he admires your bruised lips and brushes the tears from your eyes.

"Aemond...I have grieved for what we could have been...so much time has passed. And our families have only grown farther apart." He kisses the side of your cheek.

"But what is grief if not love persevering?" He wraps his arms around your waist pulling you right against him as his eyes meet yours. "I have yet to meet another soul who is fluent in my language..but you? You are fluent in me." You place your hands on his chest. "Marry me. In the tradition of our ancestors. Let my blood become yours, and yours mine." You see the hope in his eyes.

"And what of our families?" They would never accept this." You try to pull away but he holds you tight against him.

"I refuse to sacrifice the one person who sees me for who I am for a family who barely sees me for the mask I wear." He leads you towards your bed and sits you down at the edge of it before sitting before you on his knees. "You are mine. You were always meant to be mine."

His hands trail up your legs as a smirk spreads over his face.

"Aemond. We can't." He pushes up your nightgown while kissing his way up your legs.

"I will not spoil you. I will only wish for a preview of what will be mine." He pushes your dress up all the way and pulls down your small clothes. He pulls your legs over his shoulder as he lowers himself in between your thighs.

He wastes no time drinking you up. His tongue tastes whatever he can, his nose brushing against your bud softly. His tongue stiffens inside of you as he finds that place his brother had told him about. It has you lying down covering your mouth.

"Ae-Aemond..." He moans against your cunt in pleasure at your moans of his name. "Please..." you're unsure of what it is you are begging for but whatever it is you know you need it.

He brings a finger to better rub your bud as he fucks you with his tongue. He can feel you clenching and watches as you're soon arching off of the bed holding on to his hair.

The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced. A large opposite from how dark you have been feeling. You feel lighter as if pent-up energy has been released.

He gives your bud one last kiss before walking away and returning with a wet cloth. He wipes his face first before gently cleaning you. When he's done you sit up and he sits next to you pulling you into his lap.

You feel how hard he is below you and move so your legs are wrapped around his torso. You grind down on him and he looks up at you holding on to your hips. The friction against your bud only builds back up that feeling in your stomach. You kiss Aemond as he continues to guide you so you're grinding down on him. He picks up speed his mouth agape.

Without saying anything you reach and pull the eye patch off of him. Aemond stops and looks away hiding his face. You place a hand on his cheek and turn him back to you.

"Gevie." You kiss his scar gently and admire the sapphire that replaces his eye. He returns to grinding you down on him lewd thoughts fuelling his actions. His breaths become louder and you even hear a gentle moan from him.

"Fuck~" you feel him stiffen beneath you. He presses his forehead against your chest pulling you flush against him.

"I will speak to my mother and even my father. If they say no. I will come for you and only then will I fuck you and mark my name into your wet cunt so that they will have no choice but to marry us."

He kisses you again. You taste yourself on his tongue.

"You say that as if the breaking of Princess' maidenheads has not been hidden before. They could easily give me to someone who would not care."

"To that...mandianna. I tell you that idiots are highly flammable...and we ride dragons..." He kisses your exposed chest.

"I say...let them burn."

A/N: This was for the girls who dream of marrying a prince and end up falling for the misunderstood villain.

I have thought of doing another part or turning this into a mini-series at least. But for now, this is just a one-shot.

Shoutout to the Star Wars Anakin monologue that fueled me to write this anyway.

Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics @dixie-elocin

[hannieween]

city lights series joshua makes my heart go BRRR... anyways imagine joshua taking care and spoiling their S/O a little extra on their birthday 😌👉👈

hiiiiii nonniee!! (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

...

is... is this a request? omg nonnie is it your bday? 🥺

i've never received a request, so i'm going to assume that this is a req!

here i go ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: fluff, smut (18+) ✮ aus: boyfriend joshua ✮ word count: 4.1k

✮ a/n: this is connected to the city lights series (i'm not a 100% sure if you wanted this to be linked to city lights joshua or not, nonnie, sorry) — reading the series is necessary imo before reading this

i really got carried away with this

i hope you like this nonnie! ᨐฅ♡

› smut tags under the cut

✮ warnings: foul language, joshua is in love, dom joshua, pussy drunk joshua, tooth rotting fluff, body worshipping, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, after care. pet names: baby, bunny (hers) › this is not proofread

✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers only. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

3:14 AM

In the middle of the night, you stirred under the covers and turned over.

It was deadly silent, except for the soft breaths that your boyfriend exhaled while he slept beside you. It had been some hours since you both called it a night after your dinner party and went to bed, obviously not before he spoiled you before sleep.

Your hair was still humid from the mandatory shower you always took after sex, the reason why you woke up, because it was making you shiver.

You slowly sat up, coiling from the brutal change from the warmth beneath the covers, mostly emanating from your sleeping boyfriend and rose from your bed.

Rummaging your drawers silently, you looked for your favorite fuzzy socks without making too much noise and climbed back to bed to put them on with a content sigh.

You slid carefully back beneath the covers and upon lying back on your pillows, a warm hand snaked on top of your tummy, drawing a small gasp in surprise along with a shiver that rushed down your spine.

"Are you cold, baby?" Joshua asked in a low murmur.

"Yeah, a bit," you replied in the same manner.

"C'mere," he whispered, using the hand on your tummy to scoot your body closer by wrapping it around your waist.

He cuddled your body perfectly, enveloping it with his warmth and as soon as your body was pressed to his, he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your humid hair.

"Happy birthday, bunny," he muttered softly, moving his face to press his lips against the apple of your cheek.

That made you smile. Joshua had been repeating those words over the night at any chance he could get. And it was finally your birthday, when the clock had struck midnight, your boyfriend was the first one to hug you and wish you a happy birthday.

"Thank you, Josh," you replied.

"Mm," he replied sleepily, then wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly.

You saw the features of his face relax and his arms around you slowly did too when he resumed sleeping peacefully. You nuzzled against his lean chest and breathed the smell of his skin in.

There were small hickeys on his throat, just below his Adam's apple that bobbed slightly when he swallowed.

And then,

"Are you having trouble falling asleep, baby?" Joshua muttered, his voice was honeyed, so sweet that it almost melted into your ear.

"Yes," you whispered.

It was mind-boggling how he read you so effortlessly. He knew you were awake still without even opening his eyes. You supposed, the many times you've shared a bed together, he has picked up a lot of things from you. That and, the fact that you're a terrible sleeper.

He opened his eyes to find yours, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before he asked: "Can I do something to help you sleep, baby?"

The question burned in your body, like a fiery bolt of lightning across you. You nodded. "Yes. Anything, please."

Even though he made love to you right after you arrived from the dinner party, you still felt hungry for more.

The smile grew on his face with a soft sigh. "My needy bunny," he muttered, bringing a hand to cup your chin and hold you still as he pressed his lips on yours.

Slowly, tauntingly, his tongue pushed against your lower lip as he kissed you, his lips then captured yours, eliciting a small moan from you.

The sound only egged him on, with a low grunt from him, his lips captured yours, intensifying the kiss and now your boyfriend was kissing you deeply, using his body to press your back against the mattress and he climbed on top of you skilfully.

"You're so pretty, baby," he muttered after parting from your lips to look at you with the most adoring look on his face. He ran a finger on your cheek. "You looked beautiful tonight."

You stifled a sigh. Your boyfriend was the most attractive man you've ever seen. And he was wearing nothing but his black boxers, his lean chest and abdomen bare for your view.

"Thank you, Josh," you laughed a little in a mixture of nervousness and joy.

Joshua smiled contentedly. "I like it when you call me that," he confessed, dipping his head to kiss you softly.

Then he pulled his body back, making the covers slide from his body and effectively from yours, falling in bundles behind his body. His hands grabbed your pyjama shorts and panties by the waistband and pulled them down your thighs, and got them off your ankles to then set them aside on the bed.

"Can I keep my socks on?" you asked just when he moved to take your top off.

"Of course, bunny," he muttered warmly. "Whatever my baby wants."

You smiled in sheer joy and sat up for him to remove your top off, undressing you completely. You leaned back on the pillows and looked at the man towering in front of you.

His eyes roamed on your naked body, revelling at the sight of you with such love and adoration written on his face that it made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

"So pretty, baby," he echoed his own words, but this time they sounded in utter awe.

He placed his hands on each side of your body and lowered his body so he could kiss you, he trapped your lower lip between his before deepening the kiss.

"I'm so lucky," he muttered entrancingly between kisses, pressing his lips against yours repeatedly.

You stifled a moan and wrapped your arms around him. "We both are," you whispered. "Lucky."

"But I'm luckier," he muttered and you felt him smile against your lips.

You laughed into his mouth just before you could say anything because he was kissing you again.

"Shuddup," he whispered when he parted to look at you.

"Don't tell me to shut up! It's my birthday," you whined and laughed at yourself.

Joshua had been spoiling you so much lately and you realized that he'd been doing it from a week back, much as if he wanted to take a whole week to celebrate your birthday.

That being said, he took you out for dinner randomly, without telling you in advance. He also showered you with pretty gifts—a jewellery set, a Cinnamoroll squishmallow, which made your stomach twist in utter cuteness from both your boyfriend knowing you'd like this and the new addition to your squishmallow army.

The most recent of your birthday gifts he gave you was a bracelet he made with his own hands. It had your favourite colors and it was so pretty and carefully thought of that you almost didn't believe him at first when he told you he made it himself.

Well, that and the fact that your boyfriend likes to joke around with you sometimes.

And besides the gifts, the dinners, he also gave you a lot of attention. He'd been going an extra mile to make you feel good and loved to the point that he almost made you cry out of sheer joy.

But Joshua was all yours. That was the biggest birthday gift you could ever ask for.

"Mm, don't get bratty, baby," he muttered gruffly into your mouth as the kisses slowly got more heated. "It might be your birthday, but I could still cuff you to the bed."

Your stomach lurched at the sound of that. It is true that you enjoyed being cuffed to the rails of the headboard of the bed, you liked to be helpless while he pleasured you to the point you're rendered breathless and teary eyed.

"Would you like that, bunny? Should I get the cuffs?" he asked playfully, his lips pressed a wet kiss on the underside of your chin, trailing down your throat.

You swallowed thickly when your skin started to prickle, causing your nipples to harden too.

When you didn't answer, he sucked on your skin quite harshly, just on the spot where your collarbones join, making you bristle under his body and your arms tighten around his shoulders.

"No, I–," you stammered. "I'll be good, Josh."

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully, but you knew that he was having his fun teasing you like this.

Then he ran his tongue flatly on one of your nipples, just before wrapping his mouth around it, suckling at your sensitive bud, humming again but this time in satisfaction.

"Joshua," you moaned softly when your skin prickled again, and your hand shot up and found his nape, your fingers grazed his scalp, eliciting a moan from his part. "God, Josh."

He removed his mouth from your pebbled nipple with a loud smacking noise and then turned to tease your other nipple in the same manner, while his hand came up to palm your recently licked breast, smearing his drool all over your skin.

When he finished suckling your nipple, his hands bulged up your tits, pressing them together to then bury his face in them to kiss and suck your skin.

"You have the prettiest tits, baby," he hummed against your skin entrancingly, kissing the swell of each, to then sucking lovebites right beside your areolas, where no one would see except for himself.

"Josh!" you mewled when he sucked your skin so harshly, the feeling shot right between your legs, making you writhe under his body.

"All mine," he pressed soft and wet pecks on top of each hickey, looking at the reddening spots, feeling content at his work.

You smiled teasingly, the snort you made with your nose made him look up and see your smug expression.

"What?" his pierced eyebrow quirked up. "Is it not true, baby?"

"It is true," you replied and then added. "There's no need to feel possessive of me anymore, Josh. I'm yours."

His hands stopped bulging up your tits and settled on each side of your ribcage, his elbows supporting his weight still.

Looking straight to your eyes, Joshua pulled out his tongue and glided the tip on your nipple, swirling around it only to watch you part your mouth and let out a whiny moan. Then, the corners of his lips rose into a smile, while still teasing your nipple with his tongue out.

"Fuck—Josh," you pleaded, the muscles of your inner thighs clenched on both his sides.

And he felt it.

"D'you like that, bunny?" he asked, still looking directly at you as he moved his mouth to tease your other nipple with the wet tip of his tongue.

You felt your skin prickle before you saw it get bumpy all over. "Yes," you whispered.

"Would you like to feel this on your pussy?" he asked just before he used his tongue to flicker your nipple. You paid attention to the movement of his pointed tongue and imagined that on your clit.

You gulped hard and nodded eagerly.

He pushed his eyebrows up, as if waiting for your verbal response.

"Yes, please, Joshua," you replied.

"Will you stop saying nonsense and let me eat you out, then?" he asked and smiled at you playfully.

You watched him slightly agape and flinched when he grazed at the swell of your breast with his teeth, egging you to answer.

"Wh-what nonsense?" you blurted, feeling a little lost.

"I won't stop feeling possessive of you, bunny," he rolled his eyes at his own sentence. "Not until I put a ring on your finger."

"Josh!" you squealed as your stomach lurched, thighs clenching all at the same time.

"Baby!" he replied, mocking your tone of reprimand with a laugh.

"Stop saying that!" you whined.

"Why, you don't wanna marry me anymore?" he asked before he continued his trail of wet kisses on the lower part of your sternum and down your tummy.

"O-of course I do," you stuttered nervously from both the big question and the fiery tingling sensation on your lower abdomen.

"So?" he egged you on, his lips reaching your mound.

"Josh," you squirmed, watching him pout his lips to suck lightly on your very sensitive skin.

"Mm?" he pushed his eyebrows up again, his eyes trained on yours.

"You-you saying that makes me a little crazy," you confessed with an anxious stutter.

"I know," he replied before kissing your inner thighs, making you gasp pathetically. "I like it."

"Why?" you breathed out, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably when you felt his lips grazing on your inner thigh.

He shrugged ever so slightly. "I like to imagine what your reaction will be when I do it for real."

"So that's why you torture me?" you asked, trying to smile at him to make him understand that you were joking, but instead you sounded completely flustered.

He lifted his face from the apex of your thighs, a question written on his furrowed brow. "Torture you?" he repeated and then smiled. "You're the one torturing me by making me wait."

"I meant it as a joke," you explained, and pointed to your abandoned and throbbing pussy with your eyes. "Please?" you urged him to continue.

"Do you think it's a joke that I want to propose to you?" he asked teasingly, but his tone was everything but.

Before you could give and answer, he pushed his tongue flatly between your folds, making you moan with your eyes screwed shut instantly.

"Fuck—Josh!" you cried out, the tips of your fingers grazing his scalp before grabbing his hair.

"Mm?" he replied and lifted his gaze as his tongue moved up to tease your clit in the same form he did to your nipples, slowly gliding the pointed tip of his tongue around your clit.

"M-more, give me more, please," you pleaded, propping your body on your elbows to look at him, his tongue doing the same motion, swirling around your sensitive bud to then flicker the pointed tip of his tongue side to side, but slowly.

He paused, "Answer the question," he instructed, his eyes focused on your face, knowing full well that it made you a little crazy, too.

"No—I don't think it's a joke," you stammered and pushed your hips up ever so slightly towards his mouth to get more pressure of his tongue on your clit.

Joshua groaned, moving the hands that were previously parked on your thighs and forced your hips onto the mattress, making you yelp.

"Josh, come on," you whined when he continued teasing you, now his hands holding you in place by your hips.

"Mm?" he hummed.

"Faster?" you pleaded and then added innocently: "Please, Josh. It's my birthday."

That made him laugh, he stopped teasing your clit with his tongue to give out a broad smile as he chuckled with his whole body.

"Oh, bunny. You think you're so slick," his pierced eyebrow shot up briefly.

But then he moved his mouth back to your cunt, the tip of his tongue pushing your throbbing clit gently, slowly, swirling around it to watch you squirm and hear your drawn out whimpers.

"Please, Josh," you whined and clenched your jaws tight when the tip of his tongue started flicking your clit side to side again, but refraining from applying the right amount of pressure of his tongue against your throbbing clit.

"Fuck, Josh!" you gasped when the sensation was a little more over a graze on your oversensitive bud, causing your thighs to begin trembling on the sides of his face.

Joshua smiled in response, his tongue still out and teasing you. The image was lewd, he looked so fucking hot that it only added to the teasing.

"Joshua, please," you whined again and bit your lip to keep yourself from whimpering lewdly.

Though you were sure the slight teasing from his tongue on your clit could bring out an orgasm from you. And it appeared that Joshua knew it too, but was trying to draw out your climax by teasing you some more.

"I,—I'm close," you muttered with a whiny tone. "Fuck, Josh, I'm cumming."

He blinked at you slowly, almost as if saying "go ahead," and that was all you needed to come on his tongue. You threw your head back and let out a cry of pure bliss, your whole body trembling under his strong grip.

Breathy moans escaped you as your chest started to heave, but his tongue didn't relent on your cunt, flicking your clit gently but at a steady pace. The worry of waking the neighbors a long, distant thought.

"God, Josh," you sighed heavily as you came down from your high and slumped down on your pillows, thinking it was over.

But oh, you thought wrong. Joshua stopped the flicking motions of his tongue on your clit, only to give broad strokes from your entrance and up your folds, drinking in your arousal with a low moan on his part.

Your orgasm was so intense that it left your walls fluttering around nothing. You gasped when you felt the first pulse in your entrance and it appeared that Joshua felt it on his mouth too.

"Mm," he hummed softly and stopped licking between your pussy lips to then push two fingers inside your fluttering walls. "You have the prettiest pussy," he muttered softly as his long fingers massaged your warm walls.

"Mm-hmph?" you hummed mindlessly with a tiny whine when he pulled out his two middle fingers covered in your slick and glided them up your folds and pinched your swollen clit between them, making you gasp again.

"D'you like that?" he asked gruffly, his eyes trained on the features of your face as he started rubbing his fingers up and down, pinching your clit in between.

The sensation was nearly harsh and it threatened to overstim you soon, but it was also so abundantly sweet in pleasure. You writhed your hips a little bit and nodded.

"Sof-softer? Please," you stammered and bit your lip from moaning when his fingers moved your clit around in circles.

"Anything you want, baby," he muttered gently before rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers in a circle motion, softer and in a steady pace.

"God, Joshua," you sighed a moan and your eyelids fluttered close. The sensation provided by his two middle fingers on your clit was mind-numbing, you felt the pleasure from it everywhere; on your face, between your legs.

"Mm?" you heard him hum.

"Keep going, please," you whined. "Faster."

You heard a sigh and opened your eyes to see him smiling adoringly at you.

But the motion on his fingers picked up some speed, making your thighs clench and begin to shake a little as you felt your body nearing another sweet release. Your body tensed up as well instinctively, as if trying to recoil away from the pleasure it felt.

"Breathe," you heard your boyfriend remind you softly and you slowly took in a breath.

And just when you breathed out, you let out a long moan in pleasure, coming undone on his fingers, his mouth kissing your inner thighs, grazing your skin with his teeth as you came harder than before, chanting his name over and over until you gasped for air.

Panting and shaking, you opened your eyes and found your boyfriend still pressing kisses on your thighs, your mound and lower tummy before he took his fingers covered in your arousal to his mouth to lick his fingers clean.

Your inner thighs were smeared with your arousal, as you would soon find out when you came down from your high. So wet that in fact you could feel the bed sheets were wet beneath your butt too.

You smiled to yourself and propped your body on your elbows again, his eyes lifted to lock with yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair. "You do know I want to marry you, right?" you asked him, still feeling a bit breathless.

Joshua smiled before moving his lips slick in your arousal to kiss your inner thigh. "Mm, not to sure, should I get the ring right now?"

Your stomach lurched yet again, making your body jump on the bed slightly. "Y-you don't have a ring yet, right? Do you?"

"I don't know," he muttered before grazing your inner thigh with his teeth. "I might."

You rolled your eyes. "Joshua, be serious," you sounded a bit nervous.

"So you wouldn't say yes right now?" he asked and a small smirk appeared on his lips when he saw your dismayed expression. "Relax, baby," he muttered in an eased manner. "I'm just teasing you a bit."

"Oh m'god," you sighed and slumped back in your pillows.

"Are you ready to sleep, baby?" he asked as he grabbed your pyjama bottoms and panties.

"Yeah, I think I am," you sighed, blissfully tired and looked at your boyfriend. He held your panties for you to hook your ankles and lifted your hips as he helped you put your pyjamas on.

You both knew you were perfectly fine to do it yourself. But lately Joshua had been doting on you so much that you didn't question him as he did the same with your pyjama bottoms and when you sat up for him to put your top on.

He smiled cutely at you when your hair got ruffled as he put your top on and pressed a loving kiss on your forehead.

"Done," he patted your thigh affectionately and pointed to the door behind him. "Bathroom."

You groaned. "I don't want to," you whined, sitting up in the bed.

"Go baby," he laughed. "I need to change the sheets."

You were reminded then of the small wet stain below your body. "Oh, right."

"Do you want me to carry you there?" he asked softly, seeing that your thighs were still shaking a bit.

"No, I'm fine," you replied, scooting to the edge of the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

Your boyfriend had this routine of sorts, which consisted in taking care of your needs after he dommed you. He'd usually run a warm shower and inspect your wrists for any damage done, he'd cuddle you and ask you questions about your wellbeing.

But in this case, since you had already showered, and there was no bondage, no impact play, no need for the routine. Except for ensuring you'd go pee, of course. After you cleaned yourself up, you came back to your bedroom.

Joshua was finishing making the bed, the ruined sheets were on one corner of the bedroom floor. Your first instinct was to pick them up and immediately put them on the washing machine and program the cycle for the following morning.

"Leave that," Joshua said, spotting your intentions right on. "Get in here."

He nodded back to the bed and you lied down yet again as he climbed beside your body.

"Do you need anything, bunny?" he asked. "I can bring you water, or food if you're hungry."

You shook your head and he opened his arms for you to scoot right over to be wrapped in a warm hug. "I'm good, thank you Josh."

He cuddled your body under the covers, using his body's position behind you to kiss your nape and your hair.

"I'm so lucky to have you, baby," he mumbled against your ear, bringing a hand to run his fingers through your hair, gently and carefully.

"I'm lucky too," you whispered, grabbing the hand that was below your body to kiss his knuckles.

You heard him smile behind you, still running his fingers through your hair, the rhythmic motion slowly driving you to sleep, eyelids falling heavier by the second.

"I love you, bunny," he whispered.

"I love you too, Josh," you replied, feeling your heart beating at every word.

"Feels like you were made for me," he murmured.

You hummed softly in response, your heart fluttering erratically in your chest. "I am," you muttered, mustering up some boldness.

"Are you, bunny? Made for me?" he sighed running a hand from your shoulder and down your arm, caressing you gently.

"Yeah," you breathed. "With or without a ring."

He paused, but his hand didn't stop caressing your arm. "You know I'm not as possessive as before," he told you thoughtfully.

"I know," you conceded after some thought.

"The least I want you to think is that I want to own you or something like that by marrying you," he continued, and you could tell from his tone that he was falling asleep too, even if his hand was still stroking your arm.

"Josh," you muttered sweetly with a small laugh. "I don't think that!"

"I just want to make you happy. Give you the whole world," he whispered.

"You already make me happy, Josh," you muttered and pressed your body back against his. "You made me the happiest tonight."

"Mm, then I've still yet to give you the world," he muttered after some seconds.

You laughed and turned only to press a happy kiss to his smiling lips. "Baby steps, Mr. Hong."

He nodded in agreement. "Baby steps, Ms. Hong."

✮ a/n: so this is the first time i get a request (if it was indeed a request lol) but lemme know, do you like this? should i accept more requests?

so where exactly does this fall in the city lights timeline?

→ this will happen after the events of episode 8, which i hope i can post soon. i know i could've written something outside of the city lights canon, but i want everything i write and post to be within the same universe and what can i say, i got carried away

let me know what you think! likes, reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated! my ask box is always open!

now, i need to go back to writing guilty pleasures pt. 2!!!

i love youuuu ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა ♡

toodles

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[librababe99]

Savage Devotion

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Logan (X-Men: Origins specifically), Fem! Reader, established relationship, heavy smut, animalistic tendencies, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) overstimulation, slight breeding kink (if you squint) word count: 2.5K

Summary: where pleasure and pain blur, but Logan shows you exactly what it means to be taken by a beast.

A/N: I was in the mood for something a little spicy tonight 🤭 soooo I hope y'all enjoy this one! Please feel free to comment, like or reblog! Happy reading <3

(Marvel Masterlist)

You had always known Logan was a rough man. His reputation had preceded him long before you'd ever met him, tales of the Wolverine, a man with claws of adamantium and a growl that would make even the bravest quiver. You’d heard the stories, seen the aftermath of battles he’d been through, and yet, none of that had prepared you for the real thing—the man in front of you, the beast in your bed.

It wasn’t the first time. You weren’t naïve. You knew Logan carried a roughness in him that most men didn’t, a raw and untamed energy that hovered on the edge of feral. But there was something about the way he looked at you, even through his gruff exterior, that made you shiver—made you want more.

Right now, Logan loomed over you in the dimly lit cabin, his eyes glinting in the low light, like a predator sizing up its prey. He had that look on his face, the one that always sent a tremor through your core—a dark promise in those eyes, a wicked curl to his lip. Your wrists were bound above your head with a thick, coarse rope, tied to the wooden headboard. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not quite, but the tension in the rope was constant, a reminder of the control he held over you in that moment.

You shifted beneath him, testing the bonds, and his eyes narrowed. “You tryin’ to get free, sweetheart?”

His voice was like gravel, low and rough, sending a surge of heat between your legs. He was still fully clothed, wearing the same worn leather jacket he always did, his jeans sitting low on his hips, but that did nothing to hide the coiled strength beneath them. You bit your lower lip, knowing exactly what kind of game you were playing.

“Maybe,” you teased, letting your hips arch slightly off the bed, a subtle challenge.

Logan’s gaze darkened further, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. He reached out, one gloved hand cupping your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re gonna be a brat tonight, huh?” His thumb pressed hard against your lips, forcing them open slightly, and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue out, just to taunt him.

That earned you a growl. Low, dangerous. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who played soft, and tonight, it was clear you’d pushed a button. He wasn’t going to be gentle. But that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Always trying to get a rise outta me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice dripping with the weight of a threat. “You want to see how far I’ll take this, don’t ya?”

His thumb slid further into your mouth, forcing you to suck on it, and you complied, tongue swirling around the rough skin. It tasted like leather, like the residue of smoke and iron. Logan was in no rush, his thumb slow and deliberate, controlling the pace of your mouth on him. He watched you with a hungry gaze, his body hovering over yours, dominating the space.

“I think I’ll teach you a lesson tonight,” he muttered, pulling his thumb from your lips with a soft pop. He leaned back, taking a moment to shed his jacket, revealing the taut muscles beneath his fitted shirt. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath the fabric, the outline of scars, both old and new, that littered his body.

You tried to wiggle your wrists, but the ropes held firm. It was intoxicating, the way you were trapped, fully at his mercy, even though you trusted him not to go too far. Your heart pounded in your chest as he moved closer again, this time bringing his knee between your thighs, spreading your legs wide as he knelt between them.

“You don’t get to squirm,” Logan ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. “You wanted this, didn’t ya? So now, you’re gonna take whatever I give you.”

His hands, rough and calloused, slid up the inside of your thighs, teasing, but not gentle. He wasn’t here to pamper you tonight. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes raked over your body with a predatory gleam. This was Logan in his element. Raw. Dominant. Unforgiving.

You were already soaked, anticipation pooling between your legs as his hands pushed your thighs further apart. His fingers teased at the waistband of your panties, hooking underneath them, but he didn’t pull them off yet. Instead, his fingers just hovered there, barely touching your skin, and it drove you wild.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered, trying to shift your hips toward his hand, desperate for more contact. But he pulled away just as quickly, his hand coming down hard against the inside of your thigh, a sharp slap that made you gasp.

“What did I say about squirming?” His voice was a growl, sending shivers up your spine. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. You don’t get to beg yet.”

You whimpered, trying to compose yourself, but the heat that pulsed between your legs was unbearable. You wanted him—needed him. Every inch of you was on fire, burning with desire, but Logan wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He liked to make you wait. Liked to see you unravel beneath him.

He leaned down, his mouth grazing the skin of your inner thigh, right where he had slapped you moments before. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh, and you squirmed again, biting down hard on your lip to stifle a moan.

“Sensitive tonight, aren’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his stubble brushing over the sensitive area as he kissed his way higher, dangerously close to where you needed him most.

But still, he didn’t touch you where you wanted. His fingers teased the edges of your panties, his breath hot against the damp fabric, and all you could do was writhe beneath him, restrained and helpless.

“Please,” you gasped, voice hoarse with need. “Please, Logan, I need you.”

His response was a low chuckle, dark and full of promise. “Oh, I know what you need, darlin’. But I ain’t giving it to you until I’m good and ready.”

His fingers finally hooked into your panties, pulling them down agonizingly slow. The cool air against your exposed skin made you shudder, and Logan took his time, admiring the sight of you spread out before him, bound and at his mercy. He didn’t say a word as he tossed your panties aside, his eyes roaming over you with a hunger that was almost palpable.

You could see the bulge in his jeans, the way his body was already coiled with tension, and yet, he was holding back, savoring every second of your anticipation. The bastard loved it—loved watching you squirm, loved making you beg. And god dammit, you loved it too.

Logan’s fingers slid between your folds, slick with your arousal, and he growled low in his throat. “So wet already,” he muttered, his fingers spreading you open, teasing at your entrance but not pushing inside yet. “You really are a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another whimper as his fingers circled your clit, slow and deliberate. He was toying with you, building you up slowly, and it was driving you insane. You needed more—needed him inside you, needed the roughness, the way only Logan could fuck you.

“Logan, please,” you begged again, voice desperate. “I need you. Please.”

His fingers stilled, and for a moment, you thought he might finally give in. But instead, he pulled his hand away entirely, leaving you empty and aching.

“You don’t get to call the shots, darlin’,” he said, his voice hard and unyielding. “I’m in control here. You want me? You’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re gonna say thank you when I’m done.”

He stood, his presence towering over you, and you watched as he undid the belt on his jeans, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a shiver of anticipation through you. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his cock free, hard and thick, the sight of him making your mouth water.

But Logan wasn’t in any rush. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes locked on yours, making sure you could see just how much he enjoyed watching you squirm. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tight with need.

Logan smirked, crawling back onto the bed, his body pressing down over yours as he lined himself up with your entrance. “You better be ready for it, ‘cause I ain’t going easy.”

And then he was inside you, a single, brutal thrust that filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch of him sending a white-hot pulse of pleasure through your body, and you cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth as he kissed you, hard and demanding.

Logan didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with each thrust, driving himself deeper inside you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you hard, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your body.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice a low rumble in your ear, “taking me so well, even when you’re all tied up. You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly, a mixture of humiliation and lust that made you clench around him. You could barely respond, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust a reminder of just how much control he had over your body. The ropes around your wrists burned slightly as you pulled against them instinctively, desperate for something to hold onto, something to ground you in the whirlwind of sensation.

Logan’s grip on your hips was bruising, fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building, that tight coil of pleasure deep in your core that threatened to snap with every thrust, but Logan wasn’t letting up. He was relentless, taking exactly what he wanted from you, the sound of your moans and the wet slap of skin filling the small cabin.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you clenching around me,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, his stubble grazing your cheek. “You like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you? You like being used.”

The degradation hit you like a punch, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching up to meet his brutal pace. You hated how much you loved it, how much his cruelty turned you on, but Logan knew you too well. He could see the way your body responded to him, the way your thighs trembled as you hurtled toward the edge of oblivion.

“I want you to come for me,” he demanded, his voice sharp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, firm circles over the swollen nub. “I want to feel you come around my cock. But you better thank me when you do, understand?”

You nodded frantically, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes as the sensations overwhelmed you. His pace was merciless, the rough pressure on your clit pushing you right to the edge of orgasm, but Logan wasn’t going to let you go until you gave him exactly what he wanted.

“I said, do you understand?” he snarled, his voice commanding, and you gasped, nodding again as the words tore from your throat.

“Yes! Yes, Logan, I understand!”

“Good girl.”

That was all it took. The coil inside you snapped, and your orgasm hit you like a freight train, tearing through your body with an intensity that left you shaking and breathless. You cried out, your body spasming beneath his as you came hard, the feeling of his thick cock driving deep inside you the only anchor in the storm of pleasure.

“That’s it,” Logan grunted, his own voice rough with barely-contained lust. “Feel how tight you are around me? So good, fuckin’ perfect.”

But he didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and gasped beneath him, the waves of pleasure still crashing through you, Logan kept going, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing rhythm that only seemed to heighten your sensitivity. It was too much—too intense—and yet you wanted more, needed more. Every nerve in your body was alight, each thrust dragging another desperate moan from your lips.

Logan was close, you could tell from the way his breathing had grown ragged, the way his grip on your hips tightened. His pace grew erratic, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, and you knew he was about to come. But Logan wasn’t a man who would take what he wanted without giving something in return.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “So tight, so wet for me. I’m gonna fill you up, gonna mark you as mine. You want that, don’t you? Want me to come inside you?”

“Yes!” you gasped, your body still quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, Logan, I need it—need you.”

That was all he needed. With a final, brutal thrust, Logan buried himself deep inside you, groaning low in his throat as he came, the warmth of his release spilling into you. His body tensed above you, his hips jerking as he rode out his orgasm, and you felt him pulse inside you, filling you completely.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh breathing of both of you, the weight of Logan’s body pressing you into the mattress. You were spent, your body limp and sated, the ache between your legs a dull reminder of just how rough he had been. And yet, you wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Slowly, Logan pulled out of you, his eyes still dark with hunger as he watched your body tremble in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. He untied your wrists carefully, his rough hands gentle now as he rubbed the red marks left by the rope.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though no less rough. “Took everything I gave you.”

You smiled weakly, your body still buzzing with the remnants of pleasure. “I told you I could handle it.”

Logan smirked, his fingers brushing over your tender skin as he leaned down to kiss you, this time slow and possessive. “I know. That’s why I fuckin’ love you.”

The words sent a different kind of warmth through you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Even after everything, Logan still managed to make you feel safe, cared for, even when he was at his roughest.

As you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, Logan’s rough fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, you couldn’t help but smile. This was the man you loved—feral, dangerous, but always wanting to please you. Always wanting to take care of you in his own brutal, primal way.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[tan1shere]

could you maybe write something fluffy and smutty about honeymoon/wedding night sex w billie? if you are in a request mood

Forever Love

A/n: Most certainly my kind anon !

Warnings - smut ! | masterlist

Giggles fill the small hotel room. Both yours and Billies as she carries you bridal style, plopping you on the soft bed. It had only been a day ago since the wedding and you had gone to Paris for your honeymoon. Well that was just the first stop for a week, then you'd head over to somewhere tropical for another week. Both of your smiles were glued onto your faces, the happiness radiating off of one another. "I love you." She says kissing all over your face.

You giggle as her breath tickles your skin. "I love you, so much more." She shakes her head. "Uh uh. Me." She climbs ontop of you, trapping your body. "I'm sure it's me." You fire back. "Why don't we put it to the test hm?" Her face comes incredibly close to your own. And it was clear where this was heading.

"I still love you more." Her fingers travel down your body as you say that. She keeps quiet, sneaking her hand under your dress and landing it on your thigh. Her taunting manner brings your nerves up. When she looks you in the eyes, slowly going down your body. Her warm lips were on your thighs. "I'm gunna love you til you're screaming." Your eyes widen, even more so as she bites the flesh on your thigh. A moan slipping out.

Her finger moves to your entrance, touching the thin fabric. "Can feel you throbbing." She groans as she sucks marks on your thighs. Your head lulls back, already feeling amazing by your wife's tongue. Your brain couldn't even process her words as she takes your underwear off. "All for me to devour." You hadn't seen this side of Billie yet, and you were loving it so much. She was feral, acting like a female dog on heat. This woman wasted no time at all in latching her lips onto yours. Sucking and licking like she craved you. But she did.

She always thought you were tasty in so many ways. You were like a drug to her and she just couldn't get enough. Not to mention how she felt seeing you walk down that isle, the dirty thoughts came alongside the loving ones. She just loves you so fucking much. And she was definitely proving that now. Your hands move into her hair gripping as her pace quickens. Your head still far back into the pillows as she laps at you. Your back soon arches wanting more of what she was giving.

"So greedy." She mumbles against you, earning a sweet whimper from none other than you. You knew you had lost this fight, even though she knew how much you loved her. She always had to show you who wins, she always was competitive. And she definitely won when you entered her life. She couldn't be more happy, not to mention when you said yes the day she proposed. She truly won in life. You were her work of art, trophy. And the way she'd worship you proved that.

Her tongue was relentless, as you soon feel that coil about to snap. "Mm fuck!" You moan out as the yummy feeling approaches. "Come on wifey, cum for me." And that's all it took, that single word was it, to make you burst right on her tongue. She always made you see starts. And she was so proud she could.

"I just made my wife cum for the first time."

Your brows furrow as you catch your breath. "But you always make me cum." Her face is directly over yours with a smirk.

"You weren't my wife then, were you?"

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*Ribbed For My Pleasure

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 676

cw: smut without plot, fingering, fisting, slight shadow play, rough editing

Note: Can you find the meme?

His hands. Oh Gods his hands.

The texture of his fingers molding between your flesh. Working you like putty melted around his.

"You're so good bunny." Azriel purrs, shivering your spine.

"Sir," your voice raspy, gasping for your next moan, "Your hands- I love your hands."

Stillness.

"What- ?" Three scarred fingers still cocooned in you warmth. The male was too stunned to speak.

Flushed, airy, "They're ribbed, for my pleasure... fuck please please keep going sir?" Waves of confusion spiraling your mates lust coated eyes.

You've been watching him. Admiring the ways he flexes his fingers while writing or holding a fork. ...cutting his food- gods you just needed to know what it felt like. If his fingers were this delicious, how was the rest of the meal?

"Fist me Az. I wanna feel you down your forearm. Fuck... your scars feel divine sliding in and out of me."

As his fingers started to fall back into rhythm, the air fills with the sounds of your lewid orcestra once again. "Are you sure Angel?"

"Please. I need it"

"Well, then let's see how good of a girl you are."

The momentary loss of his skin being repleaced with the pressure of more digits aligning themselves to your entrance coiled something so deep, so primal in the base of your stomach. Tickling your very soul and being. "I'm ready. Give it to me sir."

The pressure. The texture. Fuck. It felt like being torn open and sown back together by the hairs of a God. Four fingers in, three knuckles deep, thumb teasing your opening. His thick moan ripping the oxygen from your blood. "You take me so well bunny. Look at you fucked out with my hand deep in your womb."

Bliss. That's all you could feel. All that you were. At the hands of your mate, grinding down to his wrist, feeling him- needing him inside you. If you asked him to put his head in he would find a way. Just as addicted to each other as you were decades ago when the mating bond was accepted. You'd try just about anything with one another.

Azriels growls grew as his thumb finally slid inside. Scar tissue pressing against your walls, creating rippled screams of please from your thoat. Shadows curling around your body to get a better view, playing with your nipples and clit. Finding any contact they could to add to your pleasure.

Mate. Must please our mate.

One hand fisting your sopping wet cunt, one gripping your jaw, Azriel leans inbetween your neck. Leaving a trail of kisses from your earlobe to your collarbone. Evenetually finding shelter in the crook, he bites down. Marking his mate. Taking his claim.

"So good baby. Just like that- fuck your so beautiful."

"Az... Sir.. I.. I"m"

"Let go Y/N, cum onto my hand." That was your undoing. His raspy dark voice, his delicately rough hands, the pulse of love and adoration being shot through your chest. It was all too much. Arching against the bed you scratch at Azriels shoulders. Screaming as your release dances down the ridges of his skin. Skin intertwined with yours.

" You did so well my love" Wispers of praise help ease you as your come down settles. Bringing your mind back to reality.

"Don't leave yet. Please"

"I'd never leave you bunny. I should take my hand out, but I'm not going anywhere." With a whine of displeasure, Azriel begins to slowly pull his arm out of you. The shadows bring over a towel, cleaning you up before tossing it to Azriel. Allowing their singer to clean himself in your esseence. You were as much their mate as he.

"Drink sweetheart" handing you a cool glass of water the sleep starts to hit your eyes "Let's get you cleaned up. These sheets desperatly need to be changed or we'll be sleeping in a waterbed." Kissing the top of your head Azriel carries you into the bathroom, ever the loving mate. "I love you Y/N"

"I love you Azzie"

[naffeclipse]

Summer Coat

Hare!Reader x Fox!Sun and Moon

Commission Info

I'm delighted to share this fic that @pure-plum was so darling to commission me for! Finally some Of Fox Maws action with Hare Y/N being a flustered mess and the fox boys being just so sweet to admire them in their new summer coat!

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

In a muddy plain of cottongrass, you graze. The tips of your fingers brush over slender, grass-like leaves, emerald and lush in the afternoon light. The seed heads are white, fluffy, and spherical, almost like hare tails but you try to not think of the comparison to your own.

The warmth of the day lies on your fur. Midsummer is upon you and you have changed with the subtle rise of heat in the land of your home. Watching your step, you miss a mud puddle while weaving through the low valley meadow. You pluck a few of the leaves and stuff them into your mouth, chewing slowly. When you brush past the seed heads, they sway and bob in the air, and your fur is rustled by a gentle, sweet breeze.

Pressing on your tiptoes, you scan the meadow and low hills in the distance. You find no hungry eyes watching you. Twisting your long ears, you listen and wait. Not a sound save for the whispering cottongrass. 

Kneeling in the tall grass, you carefully avoid more muck that longs to suck at your feet and stain your fur. Though it better matches your new coat. After a few weeks of hiding in your form, a shallow den, you have emerged with hunger and cravings. The painfully boring and slow process of shedding your thick winter coat of white and emerging with a shining new fur of deep brown is well worth the sleek lightness you now don. 

Constantly, you watch for steel teeth hiding along the ground. Your leg healed from the crushing bite of such a cruel device late in the winter, and you were tended gently by two fox men. Your heart beats quickly in memory of how they help you. It’s strange being at their mercy and yet not suffering for it. 

When it rains, your healed bone will ache, and you’ll trace the scar left between the fibers of your fur, but you can run as fast as you ever have. The fox men ensured you could still flee.

Softly sighing, you grasp another handful of cottongrass. You haven’t seen them since you began your molt, but by then you were roaming by yourself upon a fresh leg and newly acquired mobility.

You’re surprised they haven’t hunted you down yet, considering how much they told you they’ve been trying to get closer to you—

One of your ears prick on a noise. A step. A quiet padding of a foot on soft ground.

You twist, straightening to stare over the fluffy tops of the grassy meadow. It sways. Your eyes sweep over the area. Any movement, any hint of something that doesn’t belong where you do, must be close. Your nose twitches but scents in the air are carried away by the summer breeze. Your tiny heart thunders. Your muscles coil, ready to spring you across the valley at the slightest sign of another.

Low in the meadow close beside you, the grass waves and reveals a darker shape. A shadow, prowling low. Its fur is silvery blue. Frozen water flows into your veins as you hold yourself like ice. So, so very still, you hold your breath. 

The predator might miss you. If you don’t move, don’t run, you might escape.

But in the corner of your vision, another shadow stirs, and fangs glint. Golden brown and grinning with a maw full of teeth, the predator prowls closer. Your heart drops into your stomach.

“There you are,” a hungry voice purrs.

You leap up and bolt. Fear surges into your veins as your feet kick up mud and whip through the seed heads. Before you can clear a boggy bank dividing the grass, a fox leaps upon you. 

You cry out a small sound of fright when arms encircle your waist and pull you to the ground. He twirls you over the leafy strands covering the moist earth, his fur dark and blue like metal. 

In your adrenaline-fueled panic, you catch red eyes holding you—like Moon’s—but instinct takes over when the predator growls softly, “Where are you going, flower?”

You twist out of his grasp when his hands open in the slightest, and scramble out from under him in the opposite direction. Bounding away, the stretch of muscle in your legs pushes you faster. A flick of a thick, golden brown tail sweeps the grass a few inches away from you. Pivoting, you try to jump past the reaching hands, but they snatch you by the upper arms. 

A gasp rips from your throat before you writhe. Kicking and struggling to find purchase with your claws in the attacker’s arms, you cry out a high-pitched scream before a hand finds your cheek and cradles your face.

“It’s us, snowbell, just us,” the voice says, still hungry, but gentle in his want. 

You at last stop. The pounding pulse in your long ears is still thunderous, overtaking you, but you fall still long enough to flick a glance to the fox who holds you captive. Yellow and red swirls intercut the golden brown of the fur on his chest. A glimpse of eyes, blue and sweet, hold yours before gingerly kneeling and sitting you down before him. 

“Sun?” you breathe the name while your lungs heave. Your ears twist, catching the sound of grass parting before you snap your head back to find Moon quietly settling on your other side. His grin is wide and toothy as he regards you. “Moon?”

They look so different. 

“Yes, velvet.” Moon lifts a hand, his claws sharp and dangerous, to rub the velvet of your ears. His caresses find your sensitivity. You immediately endure a shiver falling down your spine but you hold yourself rigid, holding back how weak he makes you at a touch. “Did we frighten you?”

His chest holds the same blue and silver markings, intercut with a now dark gunmetal blue coat. 

It dawns upon you until you flush with embarrassment.

“We only meant to surprise you and perhaps play a little,” Sun says sweetly but his cheeky grin is anything but remorseful. “It’s been so long since we chased you.”

Your eyes widen as your heart resumes a swift tempo. Sun’s fluffy tail sweeps behind you, brushing against your ‘bunny’ tail as the two foxes so often call it. You shift but stay sitting, your back straight as you regard the two predators to your right and left.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you at last confess. You stare at Sun’s golden brown fur washing away his brilliant white coat and turn back to Moon to wonder how swiftly his pale fur molted away.

Sun’s smile splits to reveal sharp, white teeth. “It’s summer, honeysuckle. We change too.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. He leans forward and brushes his whiskers against your neck until you almost hike up your shoulder to protect yourself from the tender touch. Sun’s eyes shine with pleasure. You feel smaller than before.

“Look at you,” Moon murmurs. His soft voice surprises you before his hand descends. His fingers trace your cheek, so less fluffy than it was in winter, but no less soft underneath his touch. You hold very still, afraid a mewl might escape you as he admires you.

Your eyelids flutter as you collect yourself. Does he mean to say that you look more appetizing or simply less vulnerable to being spotted by predators in the summer melt?

Moon shifts to better face you and drapes his tail over your lap. You lift your hands, fingers curling over the soft warmth of his fluff covering you in his summer color. A heat bleeds into your cheeks.

“It’s not as pretty as my white coat,” you stammer.

“I don’t think so.” Sun presses close to your side. His mouth softly presses to your sleek, dark brown shoulder and you freeze under the slick touch of his fangs. The softest nudge from his head jostles you. “You look lovely, always.”

Your middle heats up while you endure his piercing, blue gaze. 

“I must agree,” Moon leans in closer until you turn to fall into the red colors of his eyes. His muzzle touches your cheek. You struggle to not twist and escape the overwhelming intensity of his full attention. “No matter your coat, you are beautiful.”

Your lips part but not a sound comes out. Instead, you scrunch in on yourself and wonder if it’s not too late to slip out of their grasp, but it is futile. They already have you in their clutches.

“You foxes lie too well,” you decide instead, and shrink upon yourself for daring to say so.

“Oh, yes, we do, but we have never lied to you, velvet.” Moon’s chuckle is low and gravelly. His eyes flash as his hand rests on your hip. 

“We adore you too much to do such a thing,” Sun promises but it’s laced with a lick of his tongue over his teeth. He sets a hand on your side and slowly rubs up and down, tracing your ribs and falling to your waist. “We simply had to find you today to admire you. You were hiding from us for so long! We were worried.”

You are struck by their combined efforts to unmake you with their hands and the soft nips of their mouths. Moon noses your cheek and you screw your eyes shut. Sun helps himself to the curve of your neck, nuzzling deeper against you while you fight with all your might to contain the vicious squeaks and whimpers that long to leap from you. 

They would enjoy that, wouldn’t they? The foxes have been dining on you slowly. They nibble and lick until there is nothing left of you to eat save for your bones, and even then, you’re certain they would crack you open just to eat your marrow.

“Please, you’re going to make me melt,” you gasp underneath their invasion. 

“No, no, snowbell,” Sun chides. He stops his nibbling on your shoulder to hold your gaze. “We’re not done enjoying you and your pretty new coat yet.”

“Sun,” you whine softly.

Moon quickly overtakes you with a lick of his pink tongue against your cheek. Your lips part as warmth spills over your body. You tremble underneath his affection.

“Look at you, velvet. You look good enough to eat,” he rolls a laugh from underneath his rasp. You stiffen with a squeak. His eyes flash with hunger, “I think I’ll have one little bite.”

“No,” you plead. “Moon, please.”

“Hm? Flower, did you say something?” he grins. His canines flash. His jaws loom over you as you whimper. 

Then Sun growls softly. You jump in the slightest, your voice caught in your throat.

“You have to share with me, brother,” Sun brushes your cheek with his muzzle. His golden brown fur is so bright against yours. “I need a taste of our little hare too.”

You’re close to dissolving. Even now as they crowd you, overwhelming you with their mouths at your every edge and hands stroking over your body, their claws card through your fur. The foxes pet your legs and back and leave their impressions on your silky soft fur. The caresses of their sharp fingertips sink into you and you start to mewl. 

You held back for so long, despite everything. You are so small and pliable in their hands, and there’s no telling whether they find you delicious and want to scarf you down or simply want to love you until you deliquesce into a shimmery, muddy puddle.

“How precious,” Sun praises you, and you squirm even more as he gently nips your ear. “Even your noises are beautiful.”

“What lovely, sweet sounds,” Moon agrees. His eyes hold you while he draws his fingers down your side and traces your hip. “Perhaps we should savor you more.”

Your heart races. Nearly bursting underneath the foxes’ maw, you scramble for a way to save yourself. You are a being of prey and you must survive, even if it’s the affection of two predators.

“Your fur,” you say, stopping Moon dead from where he was opening his jaws to nibble on your jawline. “It’s handsome.”

He stares as you swallow all your fear and how flustered they made you to reach out and softly stroke Moon’s shoulder. Your claws are meant for digging and cutting plants, not for attacking a meal, but they glide softly over the smooth, satin-like blue sliver of Moon’s summer coat. 

He falls still, his jaw now open but slacked. His red eyes roam over your touch as if finding it otherworldly. 

“And mine, honeysuckle?” Sun yips, his eyes wide and eager. “What do you think of mine?”

Your pulse races but you turn to face Sun’s yearning expression and slowly lift your other hand, calming your shaking just enough to slide your fingers down his chest. Your fingers brush through his red and yellow swirls as well as his golden brown coat. Sun’s wide eyes follow your touch in pleased disbelief.

“Yours is striking,” you whisper. “Very attractive.”

You are just bold enough to fawn over them, and you might dare say that you’ve stunned them for a moment. Sun and Moon exchange looks, brows lifted in surprise and yet content, happy.

Moon’s tail slips over your ankle and rests there for a moment. You find Sun’s fluffy tail curly over your other side as they lean over you, their attention softening at the turn of events you so desperately spun. 

“You don’t lie,” Moon muses.

“I’m not good at it,” you admit, “but why would I lie about how handsome you two are?”

Sun makes a soft sound, almost a squee of delight.

“What else do you think, snowbell?” he asks, leaning down as he tilts his head. His sharp triangular ears flick. “You can keep touching us. It’s alright. Don’t be shy.”

You blush again, but slowly, you find yourself leaning forward to reach both of them. At your slightest nudge, they obey your command to move in front of you so you might better trail your touch down their arms and turn over their large hands. Their palms are sleek and smooth. Moon’s claws twist as if to resist scratching your wrist. Sun is restless, his tail tip whipping softly against your side as he keeps his palm open for you.

“You’re so big,” you say under your breath; a thought that escapes you but now leaves you burning in the face.

Sun’s and Moon’s eyes alight as they both bark and laugh.

“You’re so small,” Moon reaches out to touch your jawline.

“And lovely,” Sun adds with a cheeky grin before he gently strokes your arm. “Perhaps you want a taste of us too? If you have such a desire.”

His question is almost shy, uncertain, and so strange for the two of them who delight in scooping you up for themselves, but the foxes’ eyes flick over your face in search of your answer.

You hold very still under such a thought. Your heartbeat begins to slow within your chest as slowly, you decide while a fluttering takes over your middle.

You lean closer on your knees to reach up and press your nose to the corner of Sun’s maw. His fur is soft and he smells of fresh wood. He holds perfectly still but his tail wriggles against you, giving him away. 

A low growl starts beside you but you are unflinching when you take your kiss and face Moon. Before his lips can part, you find the edge of his muzzle and lay your mouth into him. A scent of silvery evergreens fills you before you draw away.

You bow your head slightly to hide your blush, eyes averted at what you just did. Your ears twist at the softest breaths of the foxes. Large hands take your own, and two muzzles catch you on both cheekbones. 

You squeak, much to their growling delight.