#doing a finished piece and not just fucking around that is So exhausting.

[myrmica]

doing lineart in mspaint is the perfect middle ground between the problems that arise from the infinite maleability of digital art (stressful) and the permanence of traditional art (stressful). the simple act of doing my lines in ms paint has made art faster, more fun, & way less daunting. i kind of wish more complex art programs had a custom layer cap you could set for a file or something

[lyrefromthesea]

Period sex with upper moons?

Akaza, Kokushibo, Douma - Period Sex

author's note: guess who's my favourite character in here and who i have personal beef with, i dare you.

pairing: Kokushibo x reader, Douma x reader, Akaza x reader

content warning: (obviously) period sex, mentions of blood, fem!reader

Kokushibo:

• though internally panicking, looked just fine when he picked up on the smell of blood

• came to check and the silent panic vanished

• will eventually know when your period starts before you know it yourself

• has no problem going down on you, but somehow always end up balls deep inside you

you whined as the man pulled two fingers out of your cunt, satisfied with the way you were dripping both blood and arousal.

he held eye contact with you as he brought the two digits to his lips, pushing them past his lips and licking the blood off.

"it's more than sweet.." he uttered, all three pairs of his eyes narrowing slightly. you held back a needy hum, seeing him glance at you.

he let his kimono slide of his shoulders, your mind occupied by the gracefulness of his actions. the cloth fell to the ground, revealing the pale body you've seen many times already.

"now let me have you.." he quietly said, steeping out of the last piece of clothing. though your eyes were focused on the clothes piled beside him, he was completely focused on you.

before you knew it, the man was over you, strong arms caging you between them. you felt your face heat up, almost making you forget the cramps you were experiencing.

"look at me." he demanded - requested. despite the embarrassment, you met his gaze, the smallest tug on his lip indicating his content state.

you held eye contact with him until he had fully sheathed himself inside you. his hand traveled over your stomach, pressing down where he suspected his cock would be.

you gasped, trying to keep yourself from arching your back. with his hand still on your stomach, he began slowly thrusting into you, watching your face for any discomfort.

"is that it? are you feeling good like this?" he whispered into your ear, his voice lightly breathy. you didn't answer - he didn't need one, not when you were squeezing around him so tightly.

Douma:

• you know he takes advantage of situations that could be good for him and this is definitely one of them

• yes, sex is something he had come to enjoy, but this was totally different

• blood, he didn't even need to do anything

• free source of food for a week, definitely will eat you out, no way he'll use his cock when he can just fuck you with his tongue

this was perfect, you were perfect, everything about this situation was perfect to him. he had you right where he wanted, right at his mercy.

you, on the other hand, were exhausted and in desperate need of a break. when did this start? you couldn't even remember how many orgasms the man - the demon - has pulled out of you.

his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, watching you shudder and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. he was too focused on his actions to notice the way you were weakly tugging at his hair, trying to stop him.

"so sweet, my little follower." he muttered against you, eyes finally opening, just enough for them to be lidded. he looked at you, realizing that the blood had decreased over time.

"don't tell me you're already finished? i thought you were going to give me more - show me your respect." he laughed, knowing that you could barely react to his words.

tears had started falling down your cheeks a long time ago, not sure how to handle any following orgasm. yet you couldn't move, body cramping up every few minutes while his arms pressed you against his face.

he didn't care how messy it got, a mix of slick, spit and blood staining his lips and chin. how could he care? you were divine.

if there was anything close to a god, it had bestowed him with the pleasure of getting to taste you every month.

your weak cries pulled him out of his thoughts, feeling you convulse and tremble once more, cooing at the orgasm he pulled out of you.

"look, there's more! i knew you had it in you, little follower, now be good and give me even more." he chuckled, kissing up your thigh until he was ready to dive into eating you out again.

Akaza:

• panicked when you got your first period and he didn't know of it

• first thought: danger, first thought after finding out you were on you period: nonexistent

• knew you were in pain and does his best to help, but keeps away from sex for quite some time

• eventually gives up because he can't resist your pleading

• enjoys it, but constantly worried

you watched him wipe the blood off his chin with the back of his hand, licking the rest of his lips. the action alone made you shudder in anticipation, feeling him stand up to position himself over you.

"are you feeling better, darling?" he asked, his voice quiet, as if he knew it would hurt you. you were fragile in his eyes, at the verge of breaking whenever you felt like this.

he treated you with the outmost care, abandoning pride to ensure your comfort. feeling another cramp shoot pain through your stomach, you held onto him, squeezing your eyes shut.

"please.. i need you.." you breathlessly whispered, his warm hand coming down to rub soothing circles against your waist. his other hand helped him guide his cock towards your entrance.

"shh.. i'm here for you." he answered, rubbing his cock against the mix of your slick and blood, the action making you moan out quietly.

he let you hold onto him as he pushed in, whispering words of praise and appreciation. the man didn't stop until you took him full, quietly grunting at the way you were squeezing.

"you.. you have to relax, darling. you're squeezing me so damn tight.." he groaned, letting his head fall down.

his hand let go off your leg, rubbing circles against your clit. "a- ah.. relax for me, darling. relax so i can take care of you."

he made sure to put your pleasure above his, to ensure your safety, your comfort. you gifted him the opportunity to eat you out, to taste you in such a special way, he needed to make sure you were doing good. it was only fair in his opinion, this wasn't about him, he could hold himself back if it made you feel better.

nevertheless, you didn't mind thanking him once your period was over, making sure to give him the pleasure he made you feel.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

[jeon-ify]

- 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 - 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which the way you look after showering gets your husband worked up.

genre: romance, smut, 18+. mdni.

warnings: dilf yunho!!!!!! yunho is in his late 30s-early 40s here, nudity implied, kitchen sex, swearing, breast play, making out, female reader, big!dick yunho, hand kink, finger sucking (yunho AND reader!!) tit sucking, cervix fucking, choking kink, breeding kink, if i missed anything let me know ! :3

song for the chapter : into it - chase atlantic

happy reading !

the coconut and lime scent of your conditioner floods the first floor of your home, sending your husband into a faint distraction. the scent runs up his nostrils, up to his brain, and straight down his cock. the music you’re playing blares through your phone in the shower, your husband hearing it through to the second floor.

“I BEEN CATCHIN’ PLANES FOR THE FUN OF IT,”

you sing out extra loud, your husband pausing his speech to apologize for the background noise.

you took an everything shower today, so you already made dinner before showering— considering you’d be exhausted.

somehow, yunho put the pieces together, finishing dinner and making it the right way. you didn’t expect yunho to be so generous tonight— but here you are, standing over the stove and nibbling little pieces of the food while you waited for yunho to finish from a call he was wrapped up in.

you looked around the kitchen out of boredom, looking for things to do before you dived into the food. the way yunho’s shirt sat so pretty onto your body, riding up your thighs as your pink panties peak through the ends of the tee made your man so painfully distracted— holding himself back from fucking you over the piping hot stove.

yunho watched how the ends of your hair weren’t fully dried and how it dripped onto the back of your calves, dripping down your shiny legs. he also watched how your— his— tshirt rode up your legs anytime you reached up somewhere or bent to get something. his eyes did not leave your body.

you were still stood over the stovetop, taking little bites of the greens. you moan in how good the food is, a blend of paprika and garlic seasoning, along with the sweetness of the teriyaki sauce that yunho drizzled everywhere.

but even through the layers of seasonings he put into the food, your scent still broke through it all.

“yeah, sounds good. i’ll put in the CRA request like we mentioned previously, and i’ll email you the forums. just let me know when you need it. was there anything else i could assist you with today, mr. song?” the man on the computer responds and the call comes to an end.

you stare at how attractive he is when he’s working— all the business talk that made no fucking sense to you, but he understands it like his own language, and that in itself makes you weak.

“doll, what do you have on? it smells good.” he finally decides to speak after what felt like hours of him admiring from behind his computer screen.

a much older man admiring your hygiene is something you never thought you’d see, but yunho was drooling on the laptop beneath his fingertips.

“it’s your favorite lotion,” you look up at him through damp eyelashes and flushed cheeks, watching how his nostrils flare with every breath he takes.

it takes yunho everything in his body to not pick you up and throw you over the counter and pound a baby into your small belly. he’s much older than you are, but when he met you, he knew you’d be his companion.

“yu, this smells really yummy. you did a great job, baby.” you walk over to yunho on the other end of the table, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind him. he holds onto your hands and throws his head back onto your stomach, looking up at you.

“sweets, the last thing on my mind is dinner. let me taste you, little girl,” his soft and mature voice makes your legs quiver with excitement as yunho takes your hands in his, bringing your middle and ring finger to his mouth, sucking on the digits. you gasp in response, watching how desperate the middle aged man underneath your touch grows weak at your feet.

“i can never get enough of you. wanna fuck you all day.” he stands up to face you, bringing his lips to yours. he sucks and nibs at your bottom lip to gain quicker access to explore the rest of your mouth. you deepen the kiss, the faint taste of cigarettes cloud your small mouth, making you whimper in desperation. he slides a hand between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your clit. you’re not sure if your juices make a patch on your panties or if its from your shower. nonetheless, you are so fucking turned on right now that the last thing on your mind is dinner.

“what have you done to me, pretty girl?” he feels as though you’ve casted a spell on him. everything you do makes him feral; weak in the knees. but somehow, you make him a man.

“i’m just here, yunho. don’t give me all the credit,” you gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pushing into your tight wet cunt. he gasps in sarcasm, exploring your face as he uses your cunt to soak his fingers— bringing them up to your mouth.

you feel his fingers curl into a ‘come here’ motion, your breath hitching as he pushes against your walls. your eyes roll, grasping his forearm as he speeds up his motions. you cry out and beg for him to slow down, but he doesn’t listen.

“so pretty. look at these lips, let me kiss them.” he brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed makeout, gasping for air as he pulls away with a deep-dimpled smirk. your pussy convulses around his long fingers, as your husband groans in response.

your thighs clamp shut in an attempt to calm yourself down from how aggressively his fingers ruthlessly ravish your cunt. yunho, reaching your cervix from how long his fingers are, takes in a deep breath at how fast he’s been moving. “yu- ohh— fuck! please— i’m cumming, please i’m gonna cum!” you chant begs along with his name as if it were a mantra, feeling the way his hard cock presses into your backside.

“yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? now let me feel you cum on my cock.” he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking himself dry of your juices. you whimper in need of him inside of you. he lines himself up with your entrance as you’re bent over the counter across from the stove.

he pushes into your soaked pussy deeper, feeling his dick throb ruthlessly inside of you already. lucky for him, he was able to hold himself for almost half an hour on end while he fucks you.

“s-sir, it’s so big! i don’t think i can take y-“ you pull away from his length, feeling like you’re being ripped in half by what feels like 12 inches. he runs his hand along your back from underneath the t-shirt, in an attempt to calm you down and keep you around him.

“tiny girl, you can take me. you’ve let me fuck my cum into you hundreds of times. what’s changed, dollface?” he almost makes you cum from his voice in itself, but you decide to push back while he stays still, waiting for you to adjust to his size for what feels like the millionth time throughout your relationship.

he begins pounding into you at a quicker pace, pulling and tugging at your bare nipples from underneath you. your mouth hangs open as yunho brings his large hand to your throat to wrap itself around it. you grit through your teeth, wishing you could just cum.

you don’t feel like you want to cum, you feel like you’re going to squirt all over his body. “talk to me, baby. what’s it feel like?”

he’s being so fucking annoying and making you focus on anything else other than your orgasm, but you only moan and cry in response.

“i— ‘s too much.” whimpering and shaking in a headlock, you grasp onto yunho’s arm to get a breath of air. from the way his muscular arm wraps itself around your throat makes you cum over, and over already.

yunho gets another quick scent of your lotion and conditioner, making his cock twitch in your cervix.

“i’m almost done baby, give me another one— fuck, you smell so good. the fuck are you doing to me, baby?”

he pounds into you again, harder this time— tugging at your panties to pull you back onto his hips, planting himself deeper in you.

“nngh, oh my god!”

“oh, but i’m the one making you cry like this. give it to me, fucking milk me dry. gonna spill all my cum into your tiny stomach. let me give you my babies, hm? how’s that sound?”

he bends over so his chest is against your back as he nips at your ear. his tongue licks up your tears, planting a kiss on the end of your right eyebrow. his thrusts slow down as he holds you in place to shoot his load right into your baby maker.

“oh my— fuck! yes, so good!”

you cry out in relief that you finally got to spill out your cum onto yunho’s still cock. he lands a sharp slap on your ass before pulling you back up and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“so pretty when you cry for me. should keep a picture in my wallet.”

yunho gets down on his knees before you, licking up your thighs where your juices dried. your fingers run through his pretty softly gelled black hair.

he licks up all of your juices near your heat, using his fingers to push back the cum that threatens to drip from your pussy. your eyes roll to the back of your head as yunho places a kiss on your lower stomach, traveling up beneath your shirt to suck a generous amount of skin on your tit.

“yun— you’re sucking too hard, fuck!” he sucks and bites your nipples as if you were his lifeline,

he slaps the area he sucked on, making you gasp out in surprise. “keep my cum in you until after dinner, i’ll fuck more into you.”

so you sat at the other end of the table with your thighs clenching and unable to think about anything other than your husband pounding a shit ton of babies into you.

————————

🌷🤍🎀

well? dilfyunho anyone?????

[gentaro-kinniecom]

New Beginnings

Characters: Zayne/fem!reader

C/w: 1.4k! (Read at your own risk, meant for +18) mentions of breeding, married life, somewhat graphic descriptions of sex. Zayne wants to be a father although he doesn't admit it..he just wants to get you knocked up.

A/n: Finished writing this instead of my english essay because... There's also a Rafayel fanfic in the making so stay tuned for more <33

“Zayne? It’s 1am, you still haven’t come back to bed..” I said, leaning against the door frame as he sighed, typing away on his computer while passing a hand across his hair, trying to calm himself down. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I’ll be there”

“That’s what you said an hour ago..you’re tiring and exhausting yourself to the point of death at this point” Zayne sighed, closing his laptop and getting up from his desk chair, walking towards me with a soft grin trying to comfort me. 

“Are you satisfied now?” He asked, hugging my waist as we walked towards our shared bedroom. Ever since we got married, Zayne has gotten more work than usual piled up on his desk every time I go to visit him at work. It worries me that he’s overworking himself because of money, which hasn’t been an issue at all given he’s a doctor and works in a very respected hospital. But what other reason might it be? I laid in our shared bed, feeling myself drift away to sleep when suddenly, Zayne wrapped his arms around my waist. 

“Mhm, thank you” I replied, snuggling up to him while caressing his soft dark strands of hair that fell on his face, smiling. He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite grasp as Zayne kissed me goodnight. I couldn’t help but stay awake for a few minutes, looking at the city lights by the window and back at Zayne’s sleeping form beside me.

Woken up by the sound of something crashing from the kitchen, I got out of bed with a small yawn, walking down the corridor of our lovely home to see Zayne had a mess of pancake batter all over his “kiss the cook” apron while sighing in annoyance before turning towards me.

“There’s shards of glass on the floor..please, be careful” I nod, grabbing a broom from the closet room and coming back to see Zayne was picking up the broken pieces from the floor. I suddenly stepped in one while trying to hand him the broom which made him look at me with worry, I try not to cry as he can clearly see the tears pricking my eyes.

“I’m fine I swear..” Without a second thought, he quickly lifted me onto the kitchen counter, carefully yet skillfully removing the glass from my foot as Zayne chuckled.

“Having you like this, reminds me of our honeymoon. Remember when-” I stopped Zayne by placing a hand over his mouth, trying to not remember that day where he fucked me into oblivion in our hotel’s kitchen island, right before breakfeast too.

“Why must you always make me remember? It’s like you’re hinting at wanting kitchen sex right now..” A chuckle left his lips as Zayne’s body inched closer, his hands grabbing my waist gently, kissing my neck while whispering sweet words that had me falling into his desire.

“Because, shouldn’t being a husband imply taking care of his wife’s desires as their own? Is it too bad that I want to be greedy with you for a few moments?”His hands began to trail under my nightgown and towards my chest as he began to rub my nipples, making me whine while kissing him.

“Alright, fine. Just seeing you in this apron alone made me feel things, did you do it on purpose?” I asked half jokingly as Zayne kissed my shoulder before taking off my nightgown, leaving me naked on the counter while grinning ear to ear.

“Perhaps, although now I see what you’ve been meaning to hide all this time; you’re trying to rile me up, and it’s working” He then kissed me, taking his sweet time to stroke my clit, agonizingly slow, teasing me as I whined into his mouth. Zayne didn’t take this lightly and spread my legs apart in a second. 

“And to think this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t break the glass measuring vase today” I added, gazing over at Zayne who kneeled towards my pussy, blowing on it gently before sucking on it. I gasped as his tongue did wonders, had I really forgotten of that day, or was I too fucked out of my brains to remember? Possibly the latter. He suddenly grabbed my thighs, massaging them in a way that made my cunt drip with more arousal than before. Of course, I was impatient, so I grabbed Zayne’s hair, pulling him upwards as he got the message.

“Maybe it was fate or clumsiness on my behalf, at least we’re making something out of this.” He spoke, yet I was too focused on how quickly he was to take off his pants, making me wonder why the hell was he wearing work pants so early in the morning. Nonetheless, all my thoughts vanished out the window as soon as I saw his cock. It wasn’t less than average or more, slightly curved and girthy, the type that never wants to let go once he’s had a taste..that..is the man I married, and the man he will always be. The small but noticeable vein on the side made me drool as he stroked himself a few times before prodding at my entrance. 

“Please, don’t make me wait longer, my love” 

“I thought, you weren’t the type to beg for something, it seems there’s a first for everything after all” Pushing my hips to meet his cock, Zayne grabbed them harshly, not enough to leave a bruise but enough to put me in my place as he smiled. The moment he thrusted inside, I threw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure Zayne was giving me at the moment. My hand found Zayne’s shoulder as he continued to pound at my dripping pussy. He let out a sharp groan as he finally reached my g-spot, making me let out a breathy moan while speeding up.

“Is this what you- hah wanted all along? For me to breed you? Make you carry our child? Answer me.” Zayne’s voice dropped to that soft and warm yet firm tone I always loved. Without any doubt, I answered almost eagerly.

“Y-yes..! Oh fuck~!” I sobbed due to the stimulation he gave me, in a hazy rush, Zayne grabbed my thighs, thrusting sharply yet deeply, enough to make me crave more.

“You’d be such a good mom, look at you, all needy and willing for me. I can’t wait to expand our family with you” He said, panting afterwards as he unexpectedly came inside rather quickly than normal. Pulling his cock away from my puffy cunt almost regretting his decision not long before seeing his cum leak down with a faint smile on his face.

“Stay here, I’ll go grab a towel.'' I nod, smiling at his gentleness as he comes back to clean me up. Zayne’s lips met mine as a ‘thank you’ from my behalf for being so kind and sweet as always. We eventually got dressed once again as I looked at my husband through the mirror of our bedroom, walking downstairs as I stared at the kitchen momentarily.

“So..what are we going to do about breakfast?” I asked, causing him to laugh while he grabbed both the house and car keys as we exited the front door.

“I know of a brunch place that just opened up nearby, perhaps we could give it a try today”

Some weeks later, I started feeling sick and began vomiting sometimes during the morning. I had a feeling it was because I was pregnant, however, my husband wanted to run some tests for me in the clinic near the hospital he worked at, “just to be sure” his words not mine. At the end of the day, I returned home waiting for the results to come back as I heard the front door open. Zayne tried little to hide the smile on his face as he handed me the envelope from the clinic

“I don’t need to read the letter at this point with the way you’re smiling at me” I teased, opening it up to show that I was indeed 3 weeks pregnant with his child. Zayne hugged me briefly before kissing my lips ever so softly.

“I promise to be the best father for our child, thank you for allowing me to have the blessing to start a family the day we got married, I love you.” He spoke, tear-eyed as I hugged him back, crying happily onto his chest.

“I love you too..I’ll never regret marrying the man that treats me like a queen and makes sure I have everything I need.” 

[angel-sweets666]

wrong photo! II

Denki kaminari x reader

the after events after part one (there’s smut in that, beware)

tags :@b0o0o @wtvbabes you two wanted a part two, it’s here (I’m so sorry for being offline for like a week)

warnings : mentions of smut, makeout n stuff. M!neta. (Yes mineta is a warning on its own.) it’s shorter than usual I’m so sorry I was so uninspired

READ FIRST PART TO UNDERSTAND(or don’t, idc 🎀)

SHIT YOUR HOMEWORK

You suddenly scrambled up from your cuddle spot next to Kaminari, grabbing your phone and checking the time. "Dude, it's 10 PM and I have homework due in an hour," you groaned, exhaustion clear in your voice. You glanced over at the naked blonde next to you, who was grinning smugly, acting all high and mighty despite being a virgin just 25 minutes ago.

"That was a good waste of 20 minutes, aye?" he said, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

"Oh, shut up," you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you quickly pulled your underwear back on. The urgency of your looming deadline added to your frustration, but you couldn't help but feel a hint of amusement at his newfound confidence.

"Wait, hey, where are my boxers?" he asked, sitting up and looking around the room in confusion.

you spotted his boxers on the floor and threw them at his face. "Here, catch," you said, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“OKAY EW.”

Kaminari quickly pulled the boxers off his face, his expression a mix of surprise and disgust. "What the hell was that for?" he exclaimed.

"Throwing your clothes around my room," you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your task.

The blonde huffed, pulling his boxers onto his hips in an attempt to cover himself. "Okay, so that was just rude," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and watching you as you pulled on your shirt.

"Yeah, well… womp womp," you shrugged, already picking up the pen you were using for your homework.

"OH, SO NO CUDDLES? WE JUST FUCKED AND THERE'S NO AFTERCARE? Rude…" he complained, his tone a mix of playful annoyance and genuine humor.

"Do you want me to mess up this homework?" you asked, giving him a pointed look.

"Better late than never…?" he ventured, trying to lighten the mood with a grin.

"DENKI."

"WHAT?" he replied, feigning innocence.

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, despite the frustration of your looming deadline. "Just let me finish this, and then we can cuddle, okay?" you offered, softening your tone.

Kaminari's face brightened at your words. "Deal," he said, plopping back down on the bed with a satisfied smile. "I'll just wait here, then."

As you focused on your homework, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. Despite the chaotic nature of your relationship, moments like this reminded you why you enjoyed being with Kaminari. His lightheartedness and ability to turn any situation into a joke made even the most stressful times bearable.

The sound of your pen scratching against the paper filled the room, punctuated by Kaminari's occasional hums and movements. He was clearly trying to be annoying “hey what’s that?” He grinned and picked up a crumbled up piece of paper “a paper ballsack.” You rolled your eyes and kept writing.

“Mmmmmmkayy” kaminari slowly put the paper ball down, then picked up another thing “what’s that?” Kaminari picked up another thing, this time a stress ball. You looked over your shoulder to see what Denki had picked up this time “erm…. Pink ballsack”

“Mkay so not everything is a ballsack.” Denki looked at you with a look that only said “are you fucking serious rn?” “I’ve seen yours”

“UHHHHHMMMMM WHATTTTT? NOOOOOO???”

you put your pen down and turned your body to look at Denki “if you get dressed I’ll take us on a walk to the convenience store and we can get snacks and cuddles yeah?” You smiled warmly

you two got dressed and opened the door of your dorm

only to find that mineta had been listening to you two fuck. This. Whole. Fucking. Time.

Was this rushed? Yes. I have had no inspo so send in asks I’m begging

[baby-tini]

Reader sees Dabi in an alley by accident and tries to get away quietly but Dabi sees her and brings her into the alley. He has her up the wall with a hand firmly around her neck but not chocking her but enough to threaten her. He asks for her personal info and takes pictures of her for reference just in case anything happens. And he looks at her more closely and he's like wow she's always more pretty. So he thinks for a bit and makes a deal you get out in one piece if you let me fuck you. The reader already knew he was giving her a false sense of choice so she agrees. Dabi likes her submissiveness so he gave her the choice of the location to fuck. And while she is thinking Dabi is already so handsy with her. Kissing her neck and running his hands up and down her body. He's like 'if you don't pick quick im fucking you here in the alley'. And she eventually picks a love hotel not too far from them. Once they were done fucking it's the next morning and Dabi is gone but she checks her phone messages and there's a lot of photos and videos of them together in different positions and a note at the end

See you next time Doll~

💙Dabi

(the blackmail really gets me fr😭)

TW: DUBCON, blackmail, noncon pictures and video taking, a hint of coercion. Work was always so boring, you wanted something fun. There was nothing fun about serving drunk men alcohol as they thanked you with raunchy comments. Trying to grope you while you were just doing your job. Complaining about their "bitch wife" in a drunken slur then passing out. The money was good though.. and your co-workers weren't awful. But that really didn't mean anything in the end.

It was too much, you just needed a cigarette and then you could finish your shift then go home and sleep the rest of the night away. It was warm outside, pretty too. Sky full of different shades of blue, no clouds in sight. It was quiet surprisingly, considering you weren't in the best part of town. The attacks from the League of Villains ramping up by tenfold, charred bodies appearing in multitudes. Consumed by beautiful azul flames licking away at ash. Some were lucky though, if you could even call it that, some people were burned so bad they were disfigured, leaving ugly third degree burns on their face and arms. Hopefully they weren't in this part of the city yet.

But then again, the heros were on their ass.. so it's possible. Leaning your head back against the wall, you sigh out, closing your eyes for a couple seconds before you hear footsteps. Your eyes snap open as your head snaps to the sound. There's a man in a black tattered coat, he looks exhausted. Purple burnt skin attached to healthy skin by staples. Tattered clothes with mangy boots.

Holy shit, it can't be... they shouldn't be in this part of the city, not this soon anyway. You have too get out, now. You try to be quiet, you really do, but you can't be quiet wearing heels. You mistook a step, catching the eye of the assailant. His piercing blue eyes shoot up towards you, a sick grin crawling up on his lips. As he walks closer, stumbling back you trip over your heels. He chuckles at you, grabbing your arms too lift you up, "easy there doll, what's your problem, hm? You scared?" You swallow down the dry air, shaking your head at him as you try to shake off his grip. But his hold on you just tightens, reminds you of a boa constrictor, trying too keep his prey at bay.

He presses you into the wall with an-unassuming amount of strength, pressing into you as he leans down towards your ear. "Where you goin, doll? I'm not gonna hurt you... if you comply that is." Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod into his chest, trying too control your breathing. You inhale deeply before stuttering out a response. "What did you, uh.. what did you want from me..?" There's a sniffle between your words.

"Mmm, yeah, need something real bad baby, think you can help me, hm?" You swallow down your spit, hesitantly nodding at him. "I- uh... I think, what did you need Sir.." He chuckles at that, running his nose up and down your cheek, inhaling deeply into your hair. "Sir, huh? You into that dolly?" You feel your fingers twitch against his tattered coat as you shake your head at him.

"N-no.. I just- I don't know your name..so," he leans back at that. Eyeing you up and down he grins, "that's cute baby, you really don't know who I am? That makes me a little sad honestly, but it's Dabi... I like Sir much better though, what do you think?" You swallow again, your right hand rubbing up and down your left arm, as your eyes look to the side. Rolling his eyes, he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. "Nah ah, don't look away from me, I'm not done talking to you bitch." Licking your lips, you swallow before looking up at him again. "There you go, you gonna behave for? Gonna help me with my... big problem babydoll, hm? Say, "Yes Sir." Your left hand twitches before you nod up at him, "Yes Sir, i'll help you with your... big problem." He hums at you before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and smirking at you. "I knew you would, you're so good, huh? Gonna let you pick the location cause' you're being so sweet for me... go 'head." You sniffle before licking your lips and nodding again. He hums, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and pulling down your bottom lip. "I wanna... can we go to the love hotel.. it's only a couple blocks away.. I want my first time to be.. a little special." He grins, pulling you towards his side with an arm wrapped around you. "Ahh, little slut's a virgin, wouldn't 've guessed." You try to shuffle away at that but he just tightens his hold around you. "C'mon baby, I was just joking, I'll behave from now on, promise," he snickers. It take's a minute to get there, with Dabi trying to get there as quickly as possible... his problem continuously growing as you walk with him. The hotel is pretty run down, smelling of weed and sex. The painting is peeling from the walls as women and men alike are staggering around and theirs people making out just outside the hotel, grinding and sliding their hands down the others clothes. "This is where you wanted your special moment?" He raises an eyebrow at you as he throws a wad of bills on the check-in desk. You huff at him, "it's better then some sleazy alleyway, surrounded by heroin needles." You retort, grabbing the key from him and walking to the room. He follows closely behind not failing to be as touchy as possible while you open the door. He ushers you into the room as he pins you against the wall and getting to work marking up your neck.

You try to slow your heart rate as your hands ball in his shirt, with a hiss he grinds his cock into your thigh. Nipping at your collar bone and running his tongue over your jugular as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as you run your hands up his shirt. He chuckles into your neck, pulling your shirt over your head and sucking your nipples through your bra. He laughs against your chest when you let out a choked whimper, clawing at his stomach. He huffs before snapping your bra from the back and sucking nipple and playing with the other, pinching it and leaving hickeys between your tits. He grabs you by your hair, pulling you towards the bed and throwing on it face first. Your breasts flat against the rough-feeling mattress, as you try to get up, he pushes you back against it, a hand holding pressed into the curve of your lower back. "Nah ah, fucking stay.. don't need you IDing me now princess." You breathe out softly and nod into the sheets, your body relaxing against the bed while he pulls your pants and panties down, letting them fall to your ankles. You hear him groan from behind you, he runs a warm hand over your ass before slapping it a couple times and chucking when you squeeze your legs shut. "Dirty little bitch, you want it real bad, yeah? Yeah you fuckin' do, say please and I might fuck you with the tip bitch." You whine into the sheets, salty tears leaking down your cheeks and staining the sheets. He chuckles, taking a hand and pushing your head down into the mattress as his other hand unzips and takes off his pants, his boxers being pulled down in the process, he spreads your pussylips apart before leaning down and spitting on your clit, before fucking his tip into your cunt and groaning when he feels you tighten around him. Your pussy feels so good, warm and tight, just how he likes it. He fucks into you harder, using a hand to stabilize himself next to your head as he fucks into you harder. He's so big, you can feel him in your stomach, it hurts a little, stretching so wide to accommodate him as he growls in your ear. You're so deep into it, your head so fogged up that you don't hear the camera shutters or feel him spread you wide as he films the two of you locked together. He fucks you good, you'll give him that, you don't remember passing out as he fucked into you, waking up to your familiar ringtone of your phone as you sit up, breasts spilling over the blanket as you lean towards the bedside table... 'Dabi' left you a text, "I had a fun night doll, I know you did too.. or else you wouldn't 've passed out on my cock, It was good wasn't it, I know it was, don't worry you can tell me in person when I come see you again. You're the best pussy I've had in a while if I'm being honest. Pretty wet pussy too, It's like a hug for my dick, if you will lol. Also, don't even think about trying to get away .. unless you want these getting leaked to your boss and family pretty baby." A couple seconds later six pictures and four videos pop up. Now it all makes sense... he wasn't worried about being Ided, you had already seen his face, plue he gave you his name... you're screwed literally.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Cozened Indigo - Part Three

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes, smut, dubious consent, allusions to no consent. Dead dove; do not eat. Dear god, please mind the tags. Word count: ~9.6k

Summary: The article goes live and a verdict is delivered. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Rhaenyra has gotten wind of the fact that Aemond has spoken to the press, so now she’s doing an interview too – with White Knight Magazine.”

Larys’ words play on a loop in her mind as she sits heavily in her office chair, dread forming a pit in her stomach as anxiety flutters unbridled within her chest. Her interviews with Aegon and Helaena are set for tomorrow, she still has to do her background research on them both, alongside transcribing all of her interviews with Aemond. With just two weeks to do it all, and with Rhaenyra’s pending interview looming over it, it feels too huge an obstacle to overcome. She is being set up for failure, made all the more humiliating by the fact that the feature from the opposing side is to be featured in the publication that effectively put an end to her career. It has to be deliberate, there is no way it's a coincidence.

It’s not until she sees the droplet of moisture splatter upon her desk that she realises she’s crying. Burying her face in her hands, she draws in a shuddering breath, attempting to pull herself together.

Not here. Not in the office,

“Everything okay?”

Startled, her head snaps up to look at Royce, his features pinching into a look of concern as she sniffles and hurriedly wipes at her eyes.

“Doesn’t everyone cry at their desk occasionally?” She jokes, attempting to play it off with a watery laugh.

“Let’s step into my office,” he responds softly, not giving her a chance to reply as he turns and walks away.

She sighs, tipping her head back and uttering a quiet “fuck” before following him.

“Want to tell me what’s really going on?” Royce says, perching on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, as she closes the door behind her.

The weariness that has weighed upon her since her discovery of the upcoming Targaryen trial settles over her with a heavy finality, as she meets his gaze with exhausted resignation. 

“I can’t do this, Royce. Put me back on the Flea Bottom curfew piece.”

“What? Why?!” He narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly.

“Rhaenyra - Aemond’s half sister - is doing an interview of her own.”

“So?”

“With White Knight Magazine.”

“Ah.”

“The deadline is too tight, I’ll never be finished in time.” She sags against the office door, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What’s the hold up?”

Exasperatedly, she drags a hand through her hair. “I have all of my interviews with Aemond to transcribe still, and that’s before I even begin writing the piece. On top of that, I now have to interview Aegon and Helaena, and I–”

“Woah”, Royce interrupts, “the brother and sister have agreed to be interviewed by you?”

“Yes, tomorrow, and I haven’t even started my background research on them yet. What am I going to do?!”

Royce reaches behind him, lifting the box of Kleenex from his desk. He gently tosses it towards her and she catches it, smiling gratefully as she plucks one out to dab at her eyes and nose.

“You’re going to go home, and do your background research, and prepare for your interviews tomorrow. You can leave your transcription with me. I’ll do it for you.”

“You?” She looks at him wide eyed with incredulity, balling the tissue up in her fist. “You didn’t even want me working on this story in the first place, why would you want to help me?”

“It’s not entirely selfless”, he says with a shrug, “this feature will be huge for The Gazette, it’s in my best interests to make sure you get it done.”

“Makes sense,” she admits with a nod. “Thank you.”

“Send me your audio files,” he instructs, pushing himself back into a standing position, “and then go home and get to work. Your runny mascara is bad for office morale.”

Face given a thorough clean with a wet wipe, a few hours later she sits curled up on her sofa, her gaze fixed intently on her laptop. Royce offering to do her transcription for her has shifted some of the burden from her, and she feels lighter as she clicks through each of the articles she finds regarding Helaena and Aegon Targaryen.

Helaena seems like an anomaly within the family, a blinding white beacon of joy within an ocean of misery. She is heavily involved in environmental conservation, an activist for animal rights and has received several awards for her charitable work. If she has anything at all positive to say about her younger brother, then it would be a huge help to the article.

Aegon, on the other hand, is not quite so impressive. There is little to no evidence that she can find which alludes to his morality or personality, though if the photographs splashed across trashy tabloids of him drunkenly falling out of nightclubs, and parading down the street with an ever changing array of women on his arm are anything to go by, then it’s not good. There’s a small article regarding his brief stint in a rehab facility, which offers a glimmer of hope, but only the interview itself will tell for certain.

As her taxi drives slowly up the expansive and seemingly never ending driveway of the Targaryen-Hightower mansion the following morning, she is momentarily stunned by the grandiosity of it all. She had known the family was rich, but this seems obscene. The property is located on a hill in the centre of King’s Landing, which overlooks the city, serving as an unnecessary physical reminder of how far above everyone else the family is, or at least considers themselves to be.

Her driver had been buzzed through the main gate via an intercom on the drive up to the house, so she is surprised to find no one is waiting for her once she steps out of the car. Standing in front of the large, forest green front door she lifts the ring pull of the bronze dragon head knocker and raps it against the wood three times.

She shuffles from foot to foot, anxiously waiting. A full minute passes and she is about to knock again, when the door swings open. A mop of disheveled, wavy, silver blonde hair and tired blue eyes greet her as she looks into the face of Aegon Targaryen.

As her gaze travels downwards she sees he is dressed in only a pair of low riding grey jogging bottoms and a dark green robe, which isn’t tied. She falters, blinking rapidly and clearing her throat, as she looks back at his face. The lazy smirk painted across his features is unnerving.

“Mr. Targaryen?”

“Aegon,” he corrects her. “You the reporter?”

She nods, shifting her bag to the opposite shoulder. “Right…Aegon. Am I too early? Larys said 11am.”

He gives a slight shrug. “I must have gotten carried away with my beauty sleep. Guess you’d better come in.”

Aegon leaves the door open, padding on bare feet through the foyer. She follows him, eyes wide as she takes in the opulence of the high ceilings and expensive art that adorns the walls.

He leads her through to the kitchen, opening the double doors of a large silver refrigerator.

“Get you a beer?” He asks, pulling a bottle out before biting the cap off with his teeth.

She winces. “Not for me, thanks, bit early.”

He takes a drink, nodding as he mulls over her response. “I’d offer you a bloody mary, but we’re out of tomato juice.”

She is about to laugh, until she sees that he’s sincere, so bites back the urge. “Honestly, I’m fine. Got a water bottle in my bag.”

“Fair enough,” he utters, leaning forward on his elbows on the kitchen island as he sets the bottle down. “So, how does this work?”

“I just want to ask a few questions about your brother, Aemond. Have you got a place you’d like to go to do that?”

“Why not right here?”

She raises her eyebrows slightly, taken aback by the informality, before nodding. He watches her intently as she rummages in her bag, taking out her dictaphone and placing it on the granite surface that separates them. “Will we not be interrupted?”

“Nah, mum’s gone with grandad to visit Aemond. That’s why Larys set up the interview for today. They’re pissed off that he’s spoken to the press, so better for you to be here when they aren’t.”

She purses her lips, pushing down her unease, before nodding towards the dictaphone. “I need to record this. That okay?”

His gaze rests upon the recording device for a moment, before he takes another long swig of his beer. “Yeah,” he finally says.

She pulls out a wooden bar stool, sitting upon it before she presses record. “We’ll start with your childhood. What was Aemond like growing up?”

“A twat,” Aegon shoots back quickly, causing the corners of her mouth to turn up into the faintest of smiles.

“Can you elaborate?”

Aegon sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He just…took everything really seriously. He never had a sense of humour about anything.”

“So, you didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s my brother, I love him, we’re just very different.”

“Different how?”

“Aemond is ambitious, he’s hard working. I’m not, I just want…”

She raises an eyebrow as he trails off. “You just want..?”

“To be happy,” he mutters.

“And are you?”

He scoffs. “I thought this interview was about my brother?”

“Do you think your brother was ever happy growing up?”

“He had his eye carved out of his skull when he was ten, of course he wasn’t!”

“By your nephew, Lucerys?”

Aegon’s brow furrows with anger, his tone dark and clipped. “Little shit got what was coming to him.”

Her breath catches in her throat, her blood turning icy in her veins as she stares at him, wide eyed. Slowly, with a shaky hand she reaches forward to press the stop button on the dictaphone. 

Aegon drains the remnants of his beer, heavily setting the bottle back down and lowering his gaze as he grips the edge of the kitchen island.

When she eventually finds her voice, it comes out as a strained whisper. “Do you think Aemond killed him on purpose?”

His mouth quirks, eyes obscured slightly by the hair that has fallen into his face as he looks slowly back up at her. The air feels thick, and she realises she’s holding her breath as she waits for him to respond.

“Is this the lady that’s here to interview us?” A quiet voice comes from behind her.

She jumps, turning on her stool to look at the woman that hovers in the kitchen entryway, dressed in a white vest top and powder blue harem pants. Her hair falls in soft, loose, silver blonde waves almost to her waist, her eyes hold a faraway, dreamy quality. This must be Helaena.

Aegon nods. “Yeah, she was just interviewing me.”

“Oh…” Helaena deflates slightly, clasping her hands in front of. “I’ve interrupted.”

Her brother shakes his head, pushing away from the counter and walking from the kitchen. “No. No, you didn’t. We’d just finished, all yours.”

She watches him retreat, before turning her focus to his sister.

Well, that’s the end of that then.

“Hi,” Helaena says with a soft smile, extending her hand as she steps forward. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She takes her hand, feeling the Targaryan woman noticeably flinch at the contact, giving it the briefest of shakes before letting go. “You must be Helaena.”

“I am,” she says nodding, clutching her hands in front of her once more. “Sorry about Aegon, he just has a hangover…he always has a hangover.”

Her gaze turns sad and she looks away. For a few seconds it seems as if she’s not even there anymore, and she wonders where she’s gone, before Helaena returns to the present and smiles once more.

“Shall we go up to my room?”

She trails after her up the stairs, looking at the antiquities that decorate the vast amount of space that makes up the house, until they reach Helaena’s bedroom. Stepping inside she is taken aback by the brightness of it, it feels like she has entered another universe separate from the darkened surrounds of the rest of the mansion.

Floral wallpaper adorns the walls, with a variation of frames containing pin mounted insects and butterflies. She turns to a shelving unit, picking up an expensive looking crystal beetle to examine it as it sparkles in the sunlight.

“This is beautiful,” she muses more to herself than Helaena.

“You like it?” She asks, causing her to look up, suddenly embarrassed at having handled a stranger’s belongings without asking.

“Sorry,” she replies, flustered, placing the beetle back on its shelf. “Never seen anything like it.”

“You can have it if you want,” Helaena quips with an easy shrug.

She blinks rapidly, unsure if she has heard her correctly. “Pardon?”

“If you like it, you should have it,” she tells her, sitting on the edge of her bed.

It’s a sweet gesture that comes from a place of childlike innocence, but is also indicative of how shockingly out of touch wealth makes people. Of course she doesn’t mind if she gives away something so expensive, not when the resource is there to easily replace it.

“That’s very kind, but I couldn’t,” she says, taking out her recorder. “I don’t want to intrude upon too much of your day. Shall we get started?”

Helaena is easier to interview than Aegon had been. She speaks kindly of Aemond, and as she listens she finds herself feeling more and more sad, not just for Aemond but for the entire family. Helaena had always wanted a sisterly relationship with Rhaenyra, but with a seventeen year age gap and Rhaenyra’s apparent resentment at no longer being an only child, it never happened. Where Aegon had often made fun of her, Aemond had been good to Helaena when they were growing up, patient and understanding of her tendency to daydream and fascination with insects.

“I don’t want my brother to go to prison,” she says sadly, “I just want us to be a family.”

“Do you think that that’s what Aemond wants too?”

“I don’t know what my brother wants anymore. I don’t think he knows himself.”

As her taxi drives her back towards home, dread settles in her stomach like a heavy stone. She can’t help but wonder what Aegon would have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted them. There is no denying that the Targaryens are a family that are steeped in tragedy, but amidst it all something unseen and sinister lurks, looming with the sense that by the time she stumbles upon it, she’ll be too far in to back out.

“For you,” Royce says the following morning, depositing a USB drive onto her desk.

“Are those the transcriptions?” She asks, looking up at him with wide eyed wonder. “That was quick work.”

“It’s a tight deadline”, he replies with a smirk. “How did your interviews go yesterday?”

Little shit got what was coming to him.

She draws in a breath, unsure of what guides her actions. “I only interviewed Helaena in the end. Aegon was too hungover.”

“A shame, but one interview is better than nothing. Send me the audio and I’ll transcribe that for you too, so you can crack on with the writing.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

“I know,” Royce says with a wink, before walking away.

She picks up her dictaphone, hovering over the audio file for Aegon’s interview.

Little shit got what was coming to him.

There is no way she can allow Royce to hear that, though she cannot put her finger on why. Before she has a chance to dwell on it further, she erases the recording and gets to work uploading Helaena’s to her computer, then emails it to Royce.

Over the following week, she works hard on the feature, painting a picture of the enigma that is Aemond Targaryen in his own words, as well as his sister’s. It’s a heart wrenching piece, a tale of a misfit little boy, maimed at the age of ten and left to live with the consequences of it. However, instead of collapsing into despair or falling back on a comfortable lifestyle, funded by his family’s fortune, he had studied hard and was an accomplished solicitor within his grandfather’s law firm. He had overcome his disability to train in athletic pursuits such as mixed martial arts and long distance running, and is knowledgeable in the fields of both history and philosophy. There is no denying that Aemond Targaryen is impressive, even without having to navigate the difficulties of losing an eye.

Once the article has been thoroughly vetted by Royce, it goes to print, landing on newsstands the exact same day as Rhaenyra’s interview in White Knight Magazine. Aemond cuts an imposing figure in the photograph used in the double page spread, a sinister presence in direct opposition with the content of the article. And still there is something that niggles at the back of her mind, a stone she has left unturned. Was she right to omit Aegon’s interview? She supposes it is of little consequence, it’s too late now. 

White Knight is a larger publication, so occupies a more prominent shelf space than the Duskendale Gazette. However, upon news spreading that a feature with the elusive Targaryen second son is contained within its pages, it sells out quickly, with an urgent extra print run needing to be made to supply the demand for more copies, despite additional copies having been printed in the first place, in anticipation of the article’s popularity. But they hadn’t anticipated just how popular the feature would be.

As she stands in the newsagents, looking at both publications on the shelf, she is struck by the thought that this presents itself as forcing the public to choose a side, despite neither article making mention of the murder or impending trial.

She reads Rhaenyra’s feature, and cannot help but feel sympathy for her. A young woman whose world was rocked when her best friend had married her father after her mother had died, and then made to feel displaced by the children that that relationship had produced. Already having to deal with the animosity that divides the family in the wake of her father’s death, she now must cope with the grief of losing her son.

Whose side should she choose? She wishes more than anything that Aegon had answered her question, it would doubtless make for an easier decision.

Her phone buzzing in her pocket pulls her out of her reverie and she huffs an irritated sigh as she sees Larys’ name flashing on her screen. She had assumed her dealings with him would be over once the article went to print. It appears she was wrong.

“Nice work,” he drawls into the receiver once she’s answered. “You’ve painted quite the picture.”

“Has he seen it?”

“Aemond? Yes, I ensured he received a copy this morning. He’s pleased with how it’s turned out. That’s why I’m calling, actually.”

“The article’s published, what more is there to say?”

Larys clicks his tongue, his tone dripping with condescension. “Now, now, we did you a favour in letting you run this feature. You’ll have every publication in Westeros beating down your door to commission you after today. Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order?”

“Gratitude?!” She snipes back. “Isn't it enough that I’ve painted a rosy picture of a…”

Murderer.

She can’t bring herself to say the word, there is still a seed of doubt in her mind, yet Larys knows what she means regardless.

“Alleged,” he corrects her. “All Aemond wants to do is say thank you, surely a phone call couldn’t hurt?”

“Do not give him my phone number,” she seethes.

“Very well. But you’ll be at the trial?”

“It’s a closed courtroom.”

“It is. Selected press only, to avoid it becoming a media circus, but I can get you on the list.”

“I’m not supposed to be covering the trial.”

“And you won’t be, don’t worry, I can still get you in.”

“You’ve come this far. May as well see it through to the end.”

Aemond’s words echo in her mind, and she relents with a sigh. It’s not as if she isn’t curious. “Alright, fine.”

“Excellent. See you then.”

The line goes dead.

The trial is to last three days. A day for the prosecution to deliver their testimonies, a day for the defense to present their case, and a day for the jury to deliberate and then pass their verdict, with subsequent sentencing from the judge. Rhaenyra is pushing for a murder sentence, while the other side of the family argue it was an accident.

The tightly wound knots of dread that have made their home inside of her over the last month are prominent as ever as she arrives at the courthouse on the first day. She is ushered in after giving her name, though not towards the sparsely populated press seats as she had assumed she would be.

Bile rises acridly in her throat, her eyes widening in horror as she realises she is being led towards the public gallery to sit with Aemond’s side of the family. Despite wanting to remain neutral, she is being given a side, without the option to choose, though deep down she knows she had subconsciously made her choice the moment she decided to interview Aemond. The idea makes her feel nauseated.

The entire family is tense as she takes a seat next to them. Aegon side eyes her uncomfortably, while Helaena, though she forces a smile, is fidgety and withdrawn. It’s clear she would rather be anywhere but here. Otto bristles at the sight of her, rising slightly from his seat, before Alicent places a hand on his forearm, urging him back down again.

“Aemond wants her here,” she whispers, patting her father’s hand as he sighs and turns his gaze ahead.

Despite defending her presence, the Hightower matriarch doesn’t acknowledge her, keeping her eyes fixed upon her nails, which look red raw around the edges.

An eerie silence falls over the courtroom as Aemond is led out towards the dock, accompanied by a prison officer. He is stony raised as he is seated, keeping his attention fixed on a far point towards the back of the room, though she is certain that for just a second she sees his eye flicker to her, the briefest of smirks tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her stomach somersaults and she forces herself to look away. When she looks back, he’s staring towards the back of the courtroom once more.

“All rise for the honourable Judge Wylde,” a member of staff calls out, and she stands with everyone else, watching as the judge sweeps into the courtroom, taking a seat at the bench, before they are all instructed to sit once more.

Rhaenyra’s solicitor, Erryk Cargyll, delivers the opening statement for the prosecution’s case, claiming that his client has grounds to believe that the death of her son was deliberate and premeditated.

The hours feel as though they drag by as statements are delivered by Rhaenyra, her sons, Jacaerys and Joffrey, and her husband, Laenor. Though all are clearly emotional, and still reeling from the death of Lucerys, none of them actually saw what happened. The evidence is all purely circumstantial, with nothing concrete. Rhaenyra appears visibly distressed, and her heart aches for her knowing that Larys is likely to tear her apart during his questioning.

She isn’t wrong. Larys’ questions hinge upon the fact that her dislike for her half siblings is what guides her judgements and he repeatedly asks if she saw what happened. She appears flustered, stumbling over her words, growing more emotional as the questioning grows more pointed.

Looking over at Alicent, she sees a harrowed look in her eyes, her expression solemn as she stares wide eyed at her former friend from the public gallery, gripping her father’s hand tightly. It is awful to watch, and she is desperate to leave.

Unsurprisingly, Aemond is calm and collected as he is questioned by both Larys and Erryk, keeping his answers clipped and simple. Saying that he had been eager to get away from the family gathering, and had not seen Lucerys as he’d struck him in his haste to drive off. He never falters, even under the heated cross examination from Erryk, asking if he’d been motivated by the injury sustained as a child in his killing of Lucerys. Aemond replies with a simple “no, it was an accident”,

By the time the court is adjourned for the day, she is exhausted both mentally and emotionally. She feels for Rhaenyra, it is clear to see how much she loves her son, and she just wants justice for him. Yet her case is flimsy, and she knows that Aemond’s defense will deal the killing blow tomorrow. On the other hand, Aemond could be telling the truth, in which case, horrible as it is, is it fair that he should be hauled over the coals for an accident? He’ll serve a prison sentence either way.

Despite her tiredness, sleep does not come easy for her that night, knowing she will have to do this all again tomorrow.

The following day, as she’d expected, the defence tears apart Rhaenyra’s case, especially when they call Dr. Orwyle to the witness stand. He is apparently the doctor that had treated Aemond when he initially lost his eye, and had helped him with pain management and rehabilitation in the years that followed.

The doctor’s statement deduces that Aemond’s lack of depth perception means it is not advisable for him to drive at night, due to reduced visibility, so it is entirely plausible he would not have seen Lucerys at all as he’d driven away.

Larys’ closing statement underscores it all; “so, you see your honour, my client was in such emotional distress that evening that he felt he had no choice but to leave. It was an honest accident. Is Aemond Targaryen careless? Yes. But a killer? No.”

“Fucking liar!” Rhaenyra cries out, jumping to her feet, her voice fraught with emotion.

“Order!” Judge Wylde shouts across the courtroom.

She bows her head, drawing in a withering sigh. The trial is over, it’s just the verdict and sentencing to go now.

When she looks back up, a shiver runs the length of her spine; Aemond is staring directly at her. He’s smiling.

She allows her curiosity to get the better of her, once the court is adjourned for the day, catching up to Aegon as he walks from the courtroom. He whips around as she gently grabs his arm, his brows knitting together in confusion as he looks at her.

“I’ll never hear the end of it from Mum, if she sees me talking to you,” he mutters, attempting to pull away.

“I know,” she says, stepping in front of him to block his path, “but I’ll be quick. I just need to know, when I asked you the other day if you thought Aemond had killed Luceys on purpose, what would you have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted us?”

Aegon sighs, rolling his eyes as he steps around her. “I think you already knew the answer to that when you omitted my interview. It doesn’t matter really though, does it?” He says to her, as he begins walking away. “He’s going to prison either way.”

His words bring her little comfort, and she stands, watching with unease, as he descends the steps at the front of the building. In a sense, he is right, it doesn’t matter now, and her article is already published. She hates herself for it.

She feels sick with nerves the following day, as the final closing statements are read out, and she’s unsure why. Aemond is nothing to her, and yet she feels that she has played a part in this all the same, will somehow be responsible for whatever verdict is reached, whether it’s the right one or not.

 The faces of Rhaenyra, Laenor and Jacaerys are sullen and angry on one side of the courtroom, while Alicent and Helaena look fraught with worry. Otto and Aegon sit stony faced and impassive.

It takes the jury just one hour to reach their verdict.

The clerk of the court calls out, “Will the foreman of the jury please stand? Have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?”

When the foreman answers in the affirmative, the clerk continues. “On the first count in the indictment, murder in the first degree, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”

“Not guilty.”

Rhaenyra collapses into Laenor’s arms with a sob, as Jacaerys jumps to his feet, shouting obscenities. It’s not until Judge Wylde threatens to have him removed that order is restored in the court, and the verdict can continue.

She looks to Aemond, sitting in the dock, his gaze lowered, the silver strands of his hair obscuring his face, so she’s unable to see his reaction, but she can tell from the movement of his wrists that he’s fiddling with his fingers. Is he nervous? He has been so stoic throughout this entire process, to see him falter is unnerving. She finds herself unable to look away as the final verdict is read out.

“On the second count in the indictment, manslaughter, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty.”

Aemond looks to his mother as the verdict is read out, her brown eyes doleful and filled with tears as she gazes back at him. Rhaenyra storms from the courtroom, the heavy wooden double doors flinging wide open as she departs, quickly followed by Laenor and Jacaerys.

“He’s going to prison,” Helaena whispers sadly.

“That was always going to happen,” Aegon retorts with a heavy sigh.

When the judge passes a sentence of ten years, Alicent buries her face in her hands and sobs.

“He’ll be out in five, if he behaves himself”, Otto says quietly, in an attempt to reassure her.

“But our family is torn apart forever,” she whispers tearfully.

She has seen all she needs to see, and cannot stomach watching or hearing anymore. Rising from her seat, she hurries from the courtroom and outside to the top of the steps, sucking in steadying breaths to help calm the rising panic within her.

Her obligation to Aemond is complete, so she doesn’t understand why this has affected her the way it has. Likely the result of being trapped in such a toxic setting for the last three days, which makes her all the more determined to get away.

Pulling out her phone, she is about to open the taxi app, when Larys calls to her from the entryway of the courthouse. “He’d like to see you.”

“What?!” She asks incredulously, turning to look at him with a scowl. “What for?!”

“To say thank you, and goodbye. You rejected the offer of a phone call, perhaps you can give Aemond a few moments of your time to say his piece in person?”

“I’ve just given three days of my life watching a grieving mother be made a mockery of for his benefit, don’t you think he’s had enough from me already?”

“I can get you into the holding room for a few minutes, before his family go to see him, ahead of him being transferred back to Dragonstone. Just a few minutes, and then all of this is behind you. He has asked to see you specifically.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

Aemond would look handsome in the all black, expensively tailored suit he’d worn for court, were it not for the handcuffs that bind his wrists together, reminding her that he’s a convicted criminal.

“Speak then,” she says, as she sits down opposite him.

“I just wanted to say thank you, truly, for the article you wrote. You really are a talented writer, and I’m sure great things are in store for you.”

She purses her lips, humming in acknowledgement, uncomfortable with the compliment. “That’s quite alright.”

“I really enjoyed our chats together. I’m going to miss them.”

She frowns, not at the words themselves, but the fact that they are sincere. He means what he’s saying. “It was for a professional purpose,” she insists.

He shakes his head, leaning forward against the table. “I know you enjoyed them too.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Well, they’re over now.”

“They don’t have to be,” he says with a shrug, “ten years is a long time, plenty of time for us to chat.”

She leans back, away from him, the familiar weight of dread settling over her once more. “Aemond, I don’t think that’s a–”

He lurches forward across the table, grabbing her forearm, almost painfully so, his tone desperate and pleading. “Say you’ll come to visit me!”

She is unsure of whether it’s because there’s a part of her that secretly wants to, because she can’t bear to see the look of anguish in his eye any longer, or if she just wants him to let go of her so she can leave, but she finds herself whispering back in a trembling voice “okay, I will”.

It is not a promise she keeps.

Larys had been right, her article about Aemond is the spark that reignites her career. In the weeks following the publication of the feature, her email inbox had been inundated with offers of work from editors across a variety of different media outlets.

She had spent a long time chained to a desk at “The Wall” of the Duskendale Gazette, she did not much fancy swapping one static position for another. Eager to spread her wings, she had handed in her notice, despite Royce’s offer of a promotion. She craved freedom, and with her pick of what publications to write for, she made a successful career of freelancing. Over the next few years she had articles published in broadsheet newspapers and glossy, high end magazines alike, covering current events and interviewing high profile public figures. She made a comfortable living, until eventually she accepted the job of commissioning editor at Gold Cloak, a fashion and lifestyle magazine with a huge circulation and an even larger salary. She is almost able to put to the back of her mind the person who put her there in the first place. Almost.

In the months following Aemond’s sentencing, she had received several calls from an unknown number. On the one occasion she had picked up, it had begun with the automated message “an inmate from Dragonstone Prison is trying to reach you…” She had hung up immediately, her heart lurching, remembering she had said she would visit him, but knowing full well she couldn't. Not because of the morality of the situation, but because of how strong her desire to go actually was. That was a part of her she was eager to suppress. As the calls had continued, she had eventually opted to change her number, and after that they had stopped.

Aemond Targaryen is no more than a meager itch at the back of her mind now. It has been five years since she last spoke to him.

The sunshine warms her skin through the glass of the café window as she sits at the rounded wooden table, leaning back in her chair as her eyes scan over the article she has just had emailed to her. Deadline day is approaching for Gold Cloak, as they gear up to go to print with their next issue, and the last few stragglers are finally submitting their copy. It’s an odd sensation to be appraising the words of others, instead of writing her own, but she’s worked hard to get to this point, and it’s satisfying to be in a position where she is considered senior enough to dictate the contents of a major publication, not just contribute towards it.

Making the most of a work from home day, she has elected to visit her local coffee shop, watching the world pass by on a busy side street of King’s Landing, while the spicy aroma of her chai latte comforts her as she works.

She frowns when the sunlight she had been enjoying morphs into muted darkness. Her breath hitches, and she lets out a frightened gasp as she looks up to see Aemond standing over her.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says softly, “I saw you as I was passing and I wanted to say hello.”

His words do little to comfort her, and her eyes desperately scan the coffee shop. It’s relatively busy, with lots of people, witnesses. Good.

He smirks. “I’m not here to hurt you, don’t worry.”

She swallows thickly, shifting to sit fully upright in her seat. “What are you–”

“I only served half my sentence, I was let out on good behaviour. I’m not an escapee, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“Right, right…” she mutters, attempting to get her thoughts in order as her heart feels like it’s set upon hammering its way out of her chest.

“Mind if I sit?” Aemond says, gesturing to the empty seat opposite hers. “Might make you feel better if I’m not looming over you.”

What can she say? She looks around the café again, deciding she doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Yeah, sure.”

He pulls out the chair, sitting opposite her. Aemond is not quite as intimidating as she remembers him, though she supposes the only time she’d ever seen him before was in prison sweats or dressed for court. Today, as the sun dapples across his pale skin, he looks softer somehow, not nearly as scary as she’d once thought. His long silver blonde hair is pulled up into a low bun, and he’s dressed casually in a black leather jacket, a dark green henley and black slacks tucked into black Doc Martens.

She closes her laptop, perching her elbows on the edge of the table and resting her chin on her hands as she looks at him.

“I’m sorry I never–”

“So what are you–”

They both pause, smiling awkwardly as they begin to talk over each other, before Aemond gestures towards her. “You first.”

She nods, leaning back again, drumming her fingers softly on the table. “I never did come to visit you. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs out of his jacket, letting it drape across the back of the chair. “It was wrong of me to ask you, to be honest,” he admits, “I’d just never opened up to anyone like that before, and though I knew the consequences of the accident, none of it really felt like it was happening until it did. I panicked.”

The accident.

She finds it odd that he refers to in such a way, but he seems so different now, less tense, and she feels herself beginning to relax. Perhaps it really was an accident?

Wrapping her hands around her cup in a bid to ground herself, she nods. “So how long have you been out?”

“A few weeks,” he tells her, his hands coming to rest upon the table as he turns a stray sugar packet around in his fingers. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment.”

“You’re looking well through,” she blurts, before she has time to stop herself.

He smirks and she feels her skin grow hot as he retorts “I could say the same about you.”

She clears her throat, eager to switch gears in the conversation. “So, are you gonna grab a coffee, or are you just passing through?”

“Well, actually, since I’ve run into you, I wondered if perhaps you’d like to join me for something stronger?”

She raises her eyebrows. She knows it’s a bad idea, the trouble is the voice telling her that is not as loud as the one screaming at her to say yes.

“What are you having?” Aemond asks as they stand at the bar of Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Glass of Rioja, please.”

Aemond nods, turning to the bartender. “Bottle of Rioja and two glasses, please.”

“A whole bottle?!” She hisses, as the bartender moves away to fetch their order.

Aemond gives an easy shrug. “We’re both having the same thing, it makes more sense to share a bottle, than two separate glasses.”

“So, what are you doing with yourself these days?” Aemond asks, as they sit in a cosy corner of the pub, sipping their wine.

“Working, mostly,” she tells him, “I’m commissioning editor for Gold Cloak Magazine.”

“Impressive,” he says, raising his glass to her. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Thanks to you,” she replies quietly, a heated feeling of shame feeling as though it envelopes her. She’s keen to change the subject. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“I can’t return to Red Keep Legal, I’m no longer allowed to practice law. I figured I’d study in another field, maybe history or philosophy, see where that takes me. I’m living back with my mother until I get back on my feet.”

“How’s the family?”

“Mother is okay. Fussing over me far too much now that I’m back. Grandfather has retired, he’s gone back to Oldtown, got himself a nice little cottage. It’s fairly quiet at the house, feels empty.”

“Are Helaena and Aegon not there anymore?”

Aemond shakes his head, taking a long sip of wine before speaking again. “Helaena’s currently overseas in Qarth, doing a conservation study on some sort of beetle. Aegon’s gone to Braavos, he’s decided a life by the sea suits him better now that he’s sober.”

“Aegon’s sober?!”

“Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently his drinking got quite a lot worse after I was put away. Mother finally had enough and forced him back to rehab. It stuck this time.”

“Good for him. I’m pleased.”

“Hmm. Enough about my family, I want to know all about your new job. Tell me everything.”

Over the next few hours, they fall into effortless conversation, and as one bottle of wine turns into two, it’s easy to forget the nature of their unusual relationship, it feels as though she’s chatting with an old friend.

She tells him all about the freelance work she’s undertaken over the last few years, as well as how she found herself with a job offer from Gold Cloak. They chat about music, films, share jokes and anecdotes, though always careful to avoid mention of Aemond’s incarceration or anything related to it. Aemond is witty, oddly charming and fiercely intelligent, if she hadn't interviewed him in the wake of his nephew’s murder then she could definitely see him as someone she’d be attracted to.

As she drains her final glass of wine, the second empty bottle calling out like a beacon that it’s time to go home, she feels fuzzy headed, her eyes and limbs heavy.

Oh shit, I’m drunk.

She stumbles as she rises from her seat, and Aemond places a steadying hand on her arm, the warmth she sees in his smile as he looks down at her taking her breath away. He looks nothing like a killer, just an ordinary man.

“Come on,” he says, offering her his arm, “I’ll walk you home.”

It doesn’t occur to her to ask how he knows where she lives as he walks her back to her block of flats. Her mind feeling thick from the effects of the wine, she doesn’t resist when he leans down, his lips pressing against hers as he steps her backwards over the threshold of her front door.

He dominates the kiss, the taste of red wine upon his lips potent and sweet. He holds her tight against him, his mouth devouring hers. Their movements are needy and desperate as her hands help to push his jacket from his shoulders and it drops to the floor, along with her laptop bag, with a soft thump. It’s enough to temporarily break her out of her passionate haze and she pulls back reluctantly, her voice a shaky whisper.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Hmmm, and yet it’s happening anyway,” he replies huskily, his hand coming to rest at the back of her neck as he kisses her hungrily once more, his tongue licking greedily at hers.

Every part of her mind that is screaming at her to stop is silenced by his lips, all sense and inhibitions dulled by alcohol. Having been career focused for so long, her love life has taken a backseat, she can’t remember the last time anyone touched her like this. It’s exhilarating to feel wanted, desired, and so she loses herself in the sensation, her mouth moving against his with equal enthusiasm as they stumble back towards the sofa.

He presses her into the plushness of the cushions, the pair of them hastily kicking off their shoes, before he settles on top of her. He trails hot, open mouthed kisses over her jaw and neck, before bringing a hand to the front of her blouse, a quick flick of his wrist tears it open, sending buttons clattering onto the glass top surface of the nearby coffee table.

Before she is able to protest, she is silenced once more by the feel of his mouth upon her, lavishing attention to the swell of her breasts, visible over the tops of the cups of her bra. How is he able to do that, to obliterate all of her thoughts through mere touch alone? It’s dizzying, and her breaths quicken, turning to soft pants as his path continues downwards, leaving a blazing trail in its wake as he shifts his lips to her stomach. His hands roughly tug down her leggings, as he pulls away, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder once they’re all the way off.

As he rests on his haunches over her, she is painfully aware of the imbalance; he kneels before her, fully dressed, while she is beneath him in just her underwear. She squirms slightly in embarrassment, feeling her skin grow heated.

It’s as if he’s able to read her mind, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk as his seeing eye stares her down, darkened with arousal. Grabbing the hem of his shirt he tugs it up over his head, allowing it to follow the same path her leggings had.

She feels her core throb with want as her gaze travels down his bare torso. Lean, lithe hardened muscle defines his chest and abdomen in a way that she has only ever seen before in Grecian statues. He descends upon her again, not giving her the opportunity to admire him for long, covering her body with his own as he captures her lips again, his teeth nipping delicately at her bottom lip.

His knee nudges its way between her legs, pushing against her through the lace of her knickers, and she whines into the kiss, her mind immediately racing back to all the times his knee had bumped hers during their interviews. Is this what he’d wanted all along? The idea makes her pulse thrum and her blood run hot. It’s sick and twisted, but she can’t find herself to care, not when the friction of his actions feels so agonisingly addictive. 

His lips pull away from hers, and his hand snakes between their bodies, taking up the space his knee had occupied until just a moment ago. He cups her mound through the fabric of her underwear, humming in satisfaction as she bucks her hips against his palm, chasing the pressure his knee had given her.

“Eager little thing,” he whispers darkly, hooking a finger into the elastic of her gusset and tugging it to one side.

It isn’t until the coolness of the air hits her bare flesh that she realises just how wet she is, and she’d feel ashamed were it not for the fact she can see Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of it.

He teases the pads of his fingers through her folds, spreading the stickiness of her arousal from her sensitive bud to her opening and back again. Her breath hitches at the sensation, every nerve ending in her body feeling as though it’s aflame.

“You’re soaking,” he murmurs, eye flickering up to meet hers.

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get the words out, he’s bringing his fingers away from her core and pushing them past her lips and into her mouth. She mewls around his digits at the tart taste of herself upon her tongue, and as he takes her hand, bringing it forward to cup the hardness of him through his trousers, she finds herself sucking on them, palming at him eagerly simultaneously.

He groans quietly, pressing himself against her touch. “Good girl.”

Withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and swatting her hand away gently, he unbuckles his belt, leaning back over her as he unbuttons and unzips his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers just enough to free his erection.

She cannot see it, but the feel of it, heavy and leaking, pressing against her entrance is enough to have her walls clenching, eager to take him inside. The initial stretch to accommodate him as he presses forward causes them both to sigh softly in unison, his brows furrowing with exertion as he pushes all the way in to the hilt. The fullness of it makes her ache, and she rolls her hips impatiently, desperate for him to move.

“So needy,” he chastises quietly.

“Please,” is all she’s able to whimper in response.

His hand moves to the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and gripping it tightly. He holds her in place, so she has no choice but to look at him as he drags his hips back before snapping them forward again.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

She should stop this, they’ve gone too far already, but the buzz of the wine is still coursing its way through her, and with every brush of the head of his cock against the sensitive spot deep inside of her, the urge to put an end to what’s happening rapidly fades.

Her legs tangle with his, as she meets him thrust for thrust. He is slow to withdraw, but quick to slam forward again, driving him impossibly deep into her. His grip on her hair and the forced eye contact make it almost too much to bear. The intensity with which he looks at her, studies the contortions of pleasure her features morph into, is torturous, yet she never wants it to end.

Clinging to him tightly, her fingernails dig crescent moons into the flesh of his shoulder blades, his jaw beginning to slacken as with every push forward she feels him pulsate. He’s getting close, and she is too, the tell tale tensing of her thighs and quivering inside of her letting her know she’s edging closer to her peak.

She is desperate to turn her face away, not wanting to be staring directly into his eye as she falls apart, but Aemond’s grip on her hair is iron clad, she cannot move her head. With one last push forward, she tightens and spasms around him, a broken cry escaping her as she stares at him, eyes wide and brows knitted together as warm waves of pleasure ripple through her.

Something akin to a growl rumbles in Aemond’s throat, and she feels him still, knowing he’s about to reach his own end. Not wanting her own ecstasy to be short lived by him pulling out, she is quick to reassure him in a breathy whisper.

“I’m on the pill.”

“I know,” he groans, before letting go, spilling himself inside of her with a grunt. He lets go of her hair, burying his face into the crook of her neck as his body shudders, his length twitching and pulsing within her sensitive heat.

They remain tangled together for a few moments, both breathing heavily as they attempt to recover and slowly come back down to earth. As the blissful fog begins to lift, she is struck by a realisation.

I know.

“How do you know I’m on the pill?” She asks, her voice quiet and hoarse.

Aemond lays quiet for a moment, his breaths warm and moist against the flesh of her neck as they calm. When he eventually pulls back and looks at her, there’s something different in the way he looks at her. His stare is cold, almost crazed, similar to what she had seen the day they’d first met in the visitors room of Dragonstone Prison.

“I know everything about you,” he says with a soft smile, that doesn’t play upon the rest of his features.

Her heart lurches in her chest, fear turning her blood icy, the effects of the wine disappearing entirely as she’s left starkly sobered.

“What do you mean?” She asks quietly.

He hums thoughtfully, brushing her hair away from her face in a gesture that could be considered affectionate, were it not for the sudden change in atmosphere.

“I suppose there’s no point in keeping secrets, not now we know each other so…intimately,” he muses. “I enjoyed our talks together, I wanted them to continue, but when it became clear to me that that wasn’t reciprocated, I needed a way to continue to keep in touch. So I had you watched, followed, everything you did was reported back to me. It’s made the last five years more bearable still having a connection to you. It’s been better still being able to keep tabs myself over the last few weeks.”

Tears prickle her eyes, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. “You’re sick!”

“Am I?” He asks, cocking his head as he strokes her hair absentmindedly. “Or is that you? Because for me, our little tryst seems perfectly normal, an inevitability, considering my interest in you. However, for you, you barely know me. I’m someone you interviewed half a decade ago, and you opened your legs for me the very same day I happened to make you aware I was back in your life. I’d say that makes you a whore.”

“Get off!” She cries, squirming beneath him, attempting to push him off. The thought that his softening member is still nestled within her has her reeling with disgust. He is stronger than she is though, and refuses to budge, keeping her right where she is, as he grips her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him.

“Behave,” he hisses, “you’ve seen what happens to people who anger me. You sat through an entire trial for it.”

“That was manslaughter,” she says in a trembling voice, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“That’s what I was sentenced for, yes, but I’ll tell you a secret…I saw Lucerys, and I drove my car towards him anyway.”

He laughs softly, as he gazes down at her, her eyes widened in horror, as her chest heaves. “His expression was rather similar to yours, actually, when he realised what was about to happen.”

“You’re a murderer,” she sobs, frantically trying to push him off of her.

“Oh, darling,” he soothes mockingly, “but you did such a wonderful job of portraying me as otherwise.”

“What are you going to do to me?!” She asks, panic fluttering acridly up from her chest and into her throat.

“Nothing at all, if you don’t overreact. Don’t get any funny ideas about going to the police either.”

“What?!”

“I don’t think your career could withstand such an enormous blunder, not a second time anyway. Imagine how that would look, the second time you’ve painted a criminal as a saint, and not only that but this time you’ve slept with him. That would be quite the fall from grace.”

He pins her wrists above her head, though all the fight has left her, she sags beneath him, hot tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this…”

“Believe it,” he hisses. “You’ve built your career on the back of me, and I think it’s about time you repay the favour. For five years you’ve enjoyed success, all thanks to me, while I rotted in prison. You owe me.”

“What do you want from me?” She asks weakly.

“Nothing I haven’t had already,” he tells her, leaning down to run the tip of her nose against her cheek. “Be sweet to me, and I’ll be sweet to you, because if you try to take me down over this, I can guarantee you have much more to lose than I do.”

Her stomach turns, her eyes closing in defeat. There is no escape from this, she simply has to accept her fate or endure mutually assured destruction.

Aemond’s expression has softened when she opens her eyes again. His hands move from her wrists to her hands, entwining their fingers. “There she is,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “No more tears now, you’ll spoil all the fun we’re going to have together.”

This is a nightmare, This is a nightmare. Wake up.

As she feels him harden inside of her once more, the heartbreaking realisation that she’s not dreaming settles over her. This is a waking nightmare, and it’s only just beginning.

[strlingsav]

I need some... toe curling, mouth watering, hair ripping, blood spiking, heart racing, jaw clenching, rough, creamy, absolute filthy Simon...

Tension, tension, tension girl I'm feening

OKAY !! I'll do it!! A little drabble (not rly a drabble) just for you!

Fighting

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Yourself and Simon have an argument.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It was like running in circles- endlessly tired, exhausted, and finding yourself in the same fucking place you were when you started. It felt like nothing you ever had to say was reason enough to convince him to change. It was a tireless fight, begging Simon for more affection, more time, more attention than he was able to give.

It didn't stop the irritation from building, though. It crept under your skin when he'd sit on the sofa watching the TV instead of talking with you. When he'd get ready for bed and fall asleep without so much as a "goodnight".

You'd certainly grown sick of the distance. Of feeling like a stranger was living with you. Trying your hardest not to take up space or make a single noise for fear of pushing him even further away. Living in your home had turned into an abysmal state you didn't want to put yourself in.

It hadn't crossed your mind to approach him- not until you'd finally reached your wit's end, finally cracked the porcelain facade that had been saving your relationship. Not anymore.

He didn't expect it- in fact, things were fine, to him. Admittedly, his mind was elsewhere, though he had a good excuse; the toll of deployment. He needed a good reset, a recharge, and in the meantime, he had neglected you. Unintentionally, of course, but still, he'd made you feel unwanted, unloved- nearly a burden.

Your patience had snapped, run so thin it finally tore like a thread under tension. Though he thought nothing of it- his hands had taken hold of your waist, pulling you into his chest as you finished the dishes in the sink. You knew by the rigidity in his muscles and soft breaths against the back of your neck; he wanted you.

Any other time, you wouldn't resist him. The warmth of his palms, the smell of his body- he could pull arousal from even the deepest parts of you. Though now, you recoiled from his touch. You shrunk yourself down, pressing against the counter until he released his grip.

"You tired?" He asked.

You scoffed, so quiet and meek it was nearly pathetic. You were still afraid to say the wrong thing, to send him packing.

"No," You shook your head. Honesty was important, but you weren't sure you were ready to have this argument. So you settled for half-truths and cowardice.

His hands once again reached your hips, large fingers digging into your skin, wrapping a giant forearm around your middle as he pulled you into him.

"You want me to beg?" He mumbled in your ear- so clearly turned on by the idea of begging for a piece of you.

Your eyes clamped shut, swallowing harshly as you tried to resist temptation. It felt good, so fucking good, to feel his hands on you again, to have his voice in your ear, his soft breaths against your skin. You could've crumbled then and there, fallen into him and let him have what he wanted- but your body had a way of preventing such weakness.

You were sad. Instead of utterly aroused, soaking your panties, you felt sick, nauseous. It lodged in your throat, stung at your eyes and twisted your face into a look of contempt.

"You want me now?" You asked, slipping from his grip and throwing your dish towel on the counter.

He raised a brow, watching you. "Thought I was bein' obvious."

"You were," You nodded, your hand finding the counter for balance. "But you just pick and choose when you want me, right?"

His brows furrowed, and he took a step back to allow for some space between you.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" He tilted his head, eyeing you down.

Your heart had begun to race, your chest heaving to keep up with the pulse in your ears.

"You haven't touched me in weeks," You breathed out. "Haven't hardly said a word to me in weeks."

He sighed, hanging his head briefly. His eyes met yours and he nodded slowly.

"Takes time to get myself reacquainted after bein' gone. Thought you understood," He muttered.

"Don't blame me for this," You scoffed, though this time it was audible and poignant. "You want to fuck me but you won't spend time with me? Talk to me?"

He raised his brows in shock, tilting his head as if it could allow him another lead to follow. He stepped closer, trapping you between his arms with your back against the counter. You avoided his eyes, avoided letting him see the tears gathering in your waterline.

"I do wanna fuck you," He answered. His eyes glowered at you, menacing and almost threatening.

Your jaw clenched. A look of disgust crossing your features.

"You think if I didn't fuck you it'd change anything?" He asked, watching your eyes meet his. "You been missin' my attention, sweetheart? I know I miss bein' inside you."

You huffed, nostrils flaring as he brought his lips to your neck. Your hand reached his chest, using all your strength to push him off- he remained a statue, still pinning you against the counter.

"Don't fight me," He murmured. "I know you're mad- needy," He pressed his lips against your jaw, hunched over enough that he could whisper in your ear. "I'll make it up to you, love."

You wanted to roll your eyes, but his voice called to you like a Siren- it nearly made your eyes close to savour just how good it sounded to be taken care of. To be touched, fucked, by him again.

"I missed you," You admitted, still soured by his behaviour. "And you just want to fuck me."

He drew his hand up your side, his large hand encasing your waist.

"Missed you too," He said, like it was obvious. "Can't miss you and want you at the same time?"

His lips were inches from yours, forming a small, nearly unnoticeable smile. He liked the fight, the rejection; it only made him work harder for an even sweeter reward. His fingers worked open the button of your jeans, causing you to stutter.

"Y-you can," You trailed off, your head falling back as he sensuously dragged his lips up your neck, teeth softly scraping your flesh.

"Then what's the problem?" He mumbled.

You sighed, relaxing into his arms as his hand swiftly dove beneath your panties and his fingertips pressed against your clit.

Despite your adamant denial, you were wet. Pulsating, sore, desperate and needy. He was right- you missed his attention. Yearned so deeply for it, it nearly hurt.

His fingers drew soft circles around your clit, your body jolting with every rotation, your knees weakening against him. He had no qualms about holding you up while he touched you, nor when his fingers slid inside you so easily it made him chuckle.

"I'll take proper care of you, sweetheart," He said softly.

His lips met yours, in the middle of a gasp, fighting you to move your lips against his, accept his tongue in your mouth. You did- without hesitation, and let your hands glide over his shoulders so he could hold you up.

"Simon," You muttered. "More- please," You breathed into his neck.

Your hips rocked against his hand, his fingers deep in your pussy, throbbing around his digits while he coaxed whimpers and moans out of you. Your arousal was evident, loud echoes off the apartment walls of the mess he'd made of you.

He loved it. Loved hearing how fucking turned on you were. Loved that your pussy got wet so easily without more than a few strokes of his fingers. Loved that you clenched around his fingers and struggled to get closer, grasped at his shoulders and ground your hips to get more out of him. He liked setting the pace, though. Wanted to watch you cry and beg to go faster, harder.

He'd give you relief with his cock, instead. Wouldn't want to waste the feeling of your pussy tightening around him- it always made him cum even harder when you milked his cock. He withdrew his fingers, forcefully lifting you from the ground.

He entrapped your lips with his again, trudging down the dark hallway until he found the light of your bedroom and kicked the door open. He set you down, lifting his shirt over his head so you could run your hands over his abdomen.

You shivered, his broad shoulders flexing, swaying as he maneuvered toward you, forcing the back of your knees to hit the bed. You fell back, sitting on the bed and staring up at him expectantly.

"Turn over," He ordered, watching with amusement as you scurried to land on all fours.

Your head peered over your shoulder, lowering yourself to the bed as he stepped behind you. His belt clanked as he pulled it open, tugging his jeans down to reveal his cock. He'd been struggling with his own desire- as much as he'd missed you, he couldn't ever properly fuck you unless he knew he would be totally, completely present.

He ran his palms over your ass, drawing a shudder from your body as the warmth crept further up your waist. He lined himself up with your weeping cunt, slowly working his way inside with short, soft thrusts until his hips met your ass.

You were breathless- mouth agape, eyes fluttering shut as his cock nudged your cervix, stretching you out enough that your body erupted with goosebumps. He grunted softly at the feel of your pussy around him, the deliciously wet, plush walls inadvertently pulling him in. He too, shuddered, then bent at the waist to mould his chest to your back.

"'M sorry," He breathed against your shoulder blades. "Been neglectin' you."

It didn't bother you that Simon apologized when he was inside you- he was already vulnerable, already bearing himself to you; the apology sent warmth radiating through you.

"It's okay," You slurred, twisting your body to find his dark eyes already watching you. "Don't stop," You muttered, breathing out. "Just don't stop, baby- please," You moaned out, guttural and breathless while his thrusts pushed you forward on your hands.

His soft lips touched your shoulder, wrapping an arm beneath you to pull your back even closer, using his other hand to adjust the flesh of your ass so he could bury his cock even deeper inside you.

"Neglected this sweet fuckin' cunt too," He groaned. "Can never stay away from you- never get enough."

You sighed aloud, especially as his cock withdrew from your walls, leaving you empty and hollow- before sliding back inside. His arm moved to cling around your waist, his hard fingers sliding down your stomach to rub at your swollen clit fervidly.

"Don't do it again," You chided, though with half of your usual authority while he rutted his hips up against you. "I missed you," You muttered.

He left another gentle kiss against your shoulder, now breathing a bit heavier in your ear. You could feel the Adonis belt of his abdomen hit your ass, his dick angled just right as it rubbed inside you, his calloused fingers rubbing back and forth across your clit; your stomach had begun to tighten.

"Missed you too," He uttered, exhaling sharply when your pussy clenched around him. "Bloody fuckin' hell I missed you."

"Simon-" You gasped, your climax approaching at an unexpected pace while his words hit your ear, warm breath tingling your skin. "Keep going- I'm so close," You whined, your hips pushing backwards to force him inside you, faster, harder.

"Christ, love," He grunted. "Keep doin' that, 'n' I'm fuckin' done in," He chuckled, short and deep, hardly long enough for you to notice, but it moved through your back.

You came shortly after- knuckles white with the strength of your grip on the sheets, lips parted in a gasp, a heavy groan vibrating from your chest. Your stomach tensed, pussy tightening around his cock in short bursts, making his hips stutter with every thrust. As your eyes clenched shut, a black abyss of swirls and stars appearing behind your eyelids, you breathed out finally.

He wasn't far behind, finishing inside you as he always did, though he stayed still for a moment after, catching his breath. And when he finally came down from his climax, he fell to the bed, pulling you into his arms.

A soft kiss on your temple, his dick still lodged inside your worn pussy, coated with his cum, and he muttered a quiet, 'Night, love. We'll talk in the mornin'."

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun(Full part)

Synopsis: The aftermath of 'Sun Eats Moon' in Satoru's perspective.

(Warnings: implied sex, forced relationships)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

***full version of pt 3 is on a03 and account restricted. in the process of censoring the fic so it can be posted on tumblr**

[hanasnx]

thinking about Jason Todd dating a veterinarian/doctor reader. We all know he's very busy with his Red Hood work, so having someone with a busy schedule is almost a relief for him, because then he wouldn't have to worry about disappointing you due to lack of time. he has a lack of time monitoring the city and the reader has a lack of time on medical duty. it's fair. it work.

but that’s not the best point of all, at least not for me. In my mind, Jason is very closed off and stubborn, so it's very difficult to get him to take care of the injuries he gets in alley fights against criminals, but now he's dating a doc and It change things, especially when they're trying to tend to an injury and it's so close, holding him still because god, won't he stop squirming? and he's like "okok, put your tits on my face will not calm me down, doc." It does. it calm him down. jason is a tit guy. He can sit for hours with you stitching his back without anesthesia if it means he'll have the soft flesh hidden beneath a tank top rubbing against him, against his face.

This is shaping up to be a long-winded rant and I don't want to be exhaustive, so I'll go to the last topic: the way tend his injures always lead to sex. he has this thing that he wants to be taken care of. he's rude and dominant with everyone and maybe even in bed, but sometimes he just wants his love to put bandages on his shoulders and spread kisses all over his face while he rides him nice and slow, saying that everything will be fine, that he will be brand new on no time. I also think it could happen since he's just too beat up to fight crime and Reader just put a stay-at-home sign on him, and it's driving him mad. he has nothing to take out all that energy and anger, so he takes it out on you, fucking you against every possible corner and surface, unlike the bubble of love from before, now he's just digging short nails into your hips already marked by his fingers, creating more and more noise tickets late at night.

anyway, I think that's it! I'm so happy you liked that ask about Dick & ballerina, it just warmed my heart! hope you're doing well!

MINORS DNI 18+

"Jay— Jay! You'll pull your stitches!" you warn, but JASON TODD remains un-intimidated, yanking you back by your hips to meet his thrusts. Some thug with a knife gave him a long slice across his bicep, followed closely by one across the side of his ribcage. Wounds you'd just finished tending, but the bourbon he'd downed to ease the pain was already in full effect. That, or he's fucking you through the sting. He's got you bent over in front of him, your fingers bracing on some piece of furniture while you stand. He didn't bother taking your clothes off, yanking your panties down to pool around your ankles, your smart little pencil skirt folded over your torso.

"Help me through the pain, Doc." he replies, his gruff voice strained from effort. "Hurts so good." he moans, but you can tell he's feigning it, as if he's not taking you seriously. To distract you from your protests, his large body curls around you, hand cupping your hanging tits, rolling the flesh in his fingers and palm. "If you cum on this dick I'll feel better."

You bark a laugh at him, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Make me do it then. I'll have to patch you back up after this anyway." As if to playfully punish you for your attitude, he smacks one of your tits and you squeak in surprise.

"Finally on board."

[liverspaghett]

... inspired by my dms with @aduh0308

SERVICE TOP TAEHYUN

warnings: pussy eating and protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

synopsis: established relationship, soft romantic fluffy sex, lovemaking not fucking, CLINGY TAEHYUN, afab reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You look down at your phone to see a text from your boyfriend. It's a selfie of his sparkly boba eyes and he's sporting a pouty lip. He captions his photo "want you so bad baby. Coming home right now."

Taehyun had been so busy today and all he wanted nothing more than to sit between your legs and please you. It was his favorite way to wind down after a long day.

You get up off of the couch to get ready. He'd be here promptly and would want to get started as soon as he gets his shoes off. In your shared room, you head for the drawer where you two keep all of your personal items. He keeps it nicely organized, so you're quick to pull out a condom. Tonight would be pretty vanilla as he's been exhausted recently.

You hear the door in the distance and you smile to yourself, knowing he's here. You shove the condom in your jacket and head downstairs to meet your boyfriend. He greets you with a sweet kiss, and a wide smile. He hugs you tightly before immediately picking you up and carrying you to the couch. He can't wait long enough o even take it to the bedroom.

Taehyun sits you down, and you stand back up in front of him. He starts removing your clothes diligently. He stops after removing each piece to momentarily admire your body. His big eyes sparkle as he takes in every part of you. When you're finally bare, he sits you down gently on the couch and kneels between your legs. His pretty eyes flutter shut before he presses a soft kiss on your folds. He feels you shutter lightly and us pleased by your reactivity to even the least of what he can do to you.

He presses his tongue between your folds and kitty licks up your slit, tasting every bit of arousal he can. When you start closing in on him, he grabs your thighs with fervor and spreads them apart further than you'd started. This gives him deeper access to every bit of you. He wastes no time shoving his tongue inside of you and pulsing it in and out of you.

You're already close despite the fact he just began. He can feel it the way the muscles in your thighs tense and the way you ride his face. He removes his tongue from you and replaces it with two of his fingers. His lips wrap around your clit and he licks and sucks at it. You bring your hands to his hair and grab a fistful of it and pull to which he moans against your cunt. After you let go of his hair, he looks up at you with his shining boba eyes, glazed with lust. His eyes teary from neglecting his own erection. He's determined to make you cum before he gets to though, it was always a rule he had for himself. You cum twice for everytime he does, and you always cum first. Your pleasure was his first priority.

He holds you by the hips and lets you move freely against his face however you please. He's completely drunk on your taste and eager to make you cum. He curls his tongue inside of you and that does it. Your body tenses and freezes. Your walls throb around his tongue. He moans in response, furthering the strength of your climax. He maintains his pace as you ride out your high. When you've finished, he pulls back and looks into your eyes. His face is soaked in your juices and his eyes are glossy and wide. He look so innocent.

He stands up and offers you a hand, to which you accept, and he takes you to the bedroom. He lays you down carefully like you're some fragile and valuable possession of his. You realize you left your clothes downstairs so you stand up to get a different condom. You unwrap it and stand behind Taehyun, carefully putting it on him. He kisses you after and you lay back down on the bed.

He climbs on top of you and wraps your legs around his waist before carefully and slowly pressing himself into you. He gently begins pumping in and out of you slowly and romantically. He closes his eyes and lays his forehead on your own. He hugs you and keeps your torsos as close as possible.

When it gets to be too much, he speeds up, still sure to be easy so you won't get hurt. You bring your hands to his face and cup his cheeks. He smiles and blushes at your sweet gesture and leans in to kiss you. He's getting close. He starts moving faster and pushing himself a little deeper, making you moan uncontrollably. Your pretty sounds only help him as beads of sweat start to form and his breath gets raggedy. He takes your hands into his own, holding them while he thrusts into you one final time. Your pussy clem he's around him, igniting both of your orgasms. His eyes squeeze shut as he rides out your highs.

Taehyun is slow to pull out of you and go clean up in the bathroom. When he comes back, he's changed and clean, ready to care for you. He dresses you in your favorite comfy clothes and brings you some water and snacks. Finally, he turns on the tv and turns on the show you two promise to only watch together. Your boyfriend cuddles up into you under the blanket you're both now under.

TAGLIST: @sol3chu

[euphemiaamillais]

put me in a movie — roommate!snowjanus x reader

on a rather boring friday night, you decide that you can't just sit around with your roommates (boyfriends) and watch a boring movie... with your persistent whining, coryo decides you might just have to make one of your own

cw: 18+//threesome//piv sex//blowjobs//exhibitionism//backshots//degradation//coryo filming them fuck!//throuple goals <3

an: sorry it's been so long guys, i've been exhausted and too lazy to finish any of my drafts, but i hope you enjoy this one ;) i had to give you another roommates au!

the movie the boys had put on was terribly boring—coryo fancied himself something of a film connoisseur, but you knew that really, all he did was write long-winded reviews on letterboxd about godard films, that nobody read. sejanus was too much of a people-pleaser to say no to whatever either of you wanted to watch, so you were forced to sit through all two hours of fight club.

you were yawning twenty minutes in, never much one for the films that coryo enjoyed—you preferred anything with hugh grant or colin firth, which coryo gave you so much shit for. you knew that there were better things you could all be doing this friday night, and the nagging heat at your core was an indication of that.

about halfway through the film, you managed to nestle yourself into coryo’s lap. you rubbed your ass against his crotch, but he was so engrossed in the movie that he moved you off his crotch and back to your spot on the couch.

‘coryo,’ you whined, clambering back on top of him and peppering kisses across his face.

‘stop,’ he scowled, shoving your pawing hands away.

you frowned, turning to glance at sejanus who seemed a little less engrossed in the film than coryo, and so decided that your best bet at relieving your tension was him. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and his eyes flickered over your features; drawn into a look of desperation.

‘sej, i’m bored,’ you murmur, straddling his lap, both sides of your thighs pressing against his.

‘yeah?’ he cocked a brow, still trying to peer at the movie past you.

you let out a heavy sigh, bubbling with vexation at their ignorance of you. why were they more interested in the movie than you? when you were so needy… normally they’d be over you in an instant, one of their hard-ons pressing against your thigh or poking against your ass.

‘i need some help,’ you whimpered, grinding your clothed cunt against his crotch.

‘baby, i’m trying to watch,’ sejanus’ hands grabbed at your waist, attempting to move you off of him, but you continued to rut your hips against him.

you knew it wouldn’t take long for sejanus’ body to respond, even if he cared more about stupid fight club than his hot roommate grinding on him. you peppered kisses down his neck, fighting his attempts to fend you off. a low groan escaped his lips as you ran your teeth across his pulse point, and you found that he was finally beginning to be receptive to your movements.

‘please sej, i really want to suck your cock,’ you pleaded, moving off of him and sliding to your knees.

you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, the bulge of his hard-on visible. your mouth watered as you slid your hand under his boxers to palm at his cock. sejanus moaned at the feeling of your cold hands stroking his throbbing cock, and figured he couldn’t just say no.

coryo’s lips were drawn into a scowl, and he pressed pause on the film to cast you a disgruntled glare. you’d distracted him from appreciating this fine piece of art—you were totally going to ruin the vibe for his letterboxd review.

‘sej, she’s being a brat,’ coryo snapped, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist.

‘ouch,’ you pouted, but he wasn’t pressing hard enough for their to be pain.

coryo rolled his eyes, but decided that if you were really going to act like such a desperate whore, he ought to take advantage of it. he used his free hand to pull out his phone, and his features flickered into a look of slight amusement.

‘if you’re going to distract me from the film, ‘spose i’ll just have to make one of my own.’ coryo grinned, pulling you back onto the large sofa.

you felt the heat continue to pool at your core, being manhandled by him, and moved your other hand to continue palming sej—the poor thing hadn’t said a word but you could see a dark patch forming on his boxers that indicated his tip was leaking.

‘coryo, what are you-’ you were silenced by his fingers deftly rubbing at your inner thigh, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

‘come on, show me how you suck cock,’ he commanded, putting the phone in your face.

your eyes were stretched wide, but you nodded, moving so you were on your knees and elbows, head facing sejanus’ crotch from the side. your ass was now in coryo’s face, and he let out a delicious groan at the sight of it—your skirt had managed to flip up, revealing the fact that you were wearing a tiny pair of lace panties.

‘fucking hell, sej, wish you could see this,’ he tutted, moving the phone camera so he could film your pussy.

you let out a whine as coryo’s fingers pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wet, clenching hole. he ran a teasing finger over your slick hole, sending your eyes back. your hands were curled around sejanus’ hard cock, but coryo was distracting you too much to allow you to follow his orders.

‘coryo, please,’ you mewled, attempting to slap his hand away.

‘come on, princess, you can do it,’ he said sternly, guiding your head down.

you obliged, and began to swirl your tongue around the tip of sejanus’ cock. he let out a heavy sigh, hand reaching out to grasp at your hair. you licked up the trickles of precum that were coating his shaft, the sound of your mouth popping sending shivers down sejanus’ spine.

coryo had ceased his teasing for now, instead focusing the camera on you and sejanus. he loved how humiliating it was, forcing you to suck sejanus’ cock before the camera, the threat that he could do anything with that video looming over your head. however, the thought of that was what egged you on—it wasn’t as if you hadn’t been filmed before. you’d always let sej and coryo film you when the other one couldn’t be there to share the fun.

you took sejanus in your mouth now, lips stretching around his thick shaft. coryo laughed a little, enjoying the way your eyes began to water as you pushed sejanus further down your throat.

‘fuck, baby,’ sejanus groaned, cock twitching in your throat.

‘such a slut, taking sej’s cock like that,’ coryo taunted, giving your ass a slap.

your knees buckled slightly, but you kept bobbing your head up and down sejanus’ cock, tongue laving at the sensitive veins that covered his shaft. coryo felt himself harden at the sight, the way you were gagging as you attempted to take sejanus all the way. he loved how no matter what, you were always gagging on the both of them—sej because he was so thick, and coryo, because, well, it wasn’t like you could take all eight inches down your throat.

coryo’s free hand reached to rub at his cock until it was fully erect, until he slowly tugged at the waistband of his pants and boxers to free himself. he moved the phone to show off his big, hard cock, laughing to himself as he began to rub it against your ass.

he slapped the tip of his cock against your ass, watching as you whined around sejanus’ shaft. sejanus let out a breathy grunt as your whine sent a shock of pleasure through his body. your fingers moved to grasp his balls, playing with them softly as you tongued the tip of his cock.

you giggled, eyes stretched wide with a dumb look in them, saliva trickling from your lips as you sucked at the head of his cock. coryo ran his cock through your soaking folds, shaking his head in disbelief at how wet you were.

‘fuck, so fucking wet, huh? getting off on being such a little slut for me?’ coryo cajoled, pressing his tip into your tight cunt, feeling you stretch around him.

‘can’t even speak your mouth’s so fucking full with sej’s cock,’ he spat, sliding his cock back out, earning a whimper from you at the loss of pleasure at your achy core.

‘so close baby,’ sej managed to spit out as you pushed him back down your throat, fingers still deftly grasping at his sensitive balls.

coryo saw his chance to send you over the edge and slammed his cock all the way in, focusing the camera on the way your back arched as he entered you. he couldn’t believe how much of a slut you were being, letting him film you taking two cocks.

you moaned against sejanus’ cock as he twitched again in your mouth, his hips bucking with desperation. a grunt escaped his lips, and his head rolled back in pleasure, cock releasing its pent up tension. hot spurts of his cum spilled down your throat as you sucked him to his release.

when you pulled off his cock, you swirled your tongue back around the tip, licking up all the spend and swallowing it prettily. sejanus smoothed back your hair gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. you gave him a sweet smile, but the way coryo was beginning to pound into you proved awfully distracting.

‘being too sweet to her, sej, when she’s a whore,’ coryo mused, cock stretching out your tight, wet cunt.

your eyes rolled back, toes curling with pleasure as he took you from behind. your skin danced with warmth, turned on by the fact that coryo was filming you in such a vulnerable position. the way you held your pert ass just so for him, your pretty pussy just waiting for him to enter it—god, he too felt his own release coming on.

‘fucking slut,’ coryo slapped your ass, and gripped the firm fat of your cheek between his hand as he drove into your cunt.

‘so good!’ you gasped, feeling the rigid veins of his big cock pushing against your tight walls.

sejanus watched as he began to stroke his now soft cock to hardening again, getting off at the very sight of you with your face beginning to press against the soft seat of the sofa. coryo grasped a handful of your hair, pulling you back up with a rather forceful snap.

‘keep your head up, fuck!’ he grunted, snapping his hips against your ass.

‘can’t, coryo,’ you whimpered, cunt clenching around his huge, throbbing shaft.

your body was overcome with pleasure—he wasn’t even touching your clit, the simple feeling of his cock pounding into you was enough to send you over the edge. your mouth stretched around several pretty moans, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the sound of your wet cunt taking him echoed across the room. coryo was going to love watching this back when he was horny.

‘such a good little whore, taking my cock,’ he praised you, tugging at your hair again, loud enough to elicit a whimper as your scalp begin to tingle.

‘you gonna cum for me?’ he inquired, hand moving to rub at your ass cheek.

you were surprised at his gentleness, and nodded, but your hopes of him being sweet dissipated when his hand smacked your ass firmly. you mewled, body rearing back as pain and pleasure mingled. you were so, so close, clenching around him as he thrust deeper, tip poking at your cervix.

you let out a haggard breath, and felt yourself unfurl, slick gushing around his cock. coryo shook his head with a groan, moving the camera so it showed your milky arousal coating his shaft.

‘look at that, so fucking wet for me,’ he grinned, continuing to pound you, your tight hole clenching wetly around him, a slick ring forming at the base of his cock.

sejanus was close again too, and you smiled at him as you took coryo’s cock, lips wet with drool from how deep coryo was burying himself inside of you. his cock pulsed ever so slightly, and you could tell that he was near to his release.

‘i want you to cum inside me,’ you whined whorishly, but coryo pulled out before you could finish begging for him.

‘nuh uh, sluts don’t get to be filled up,’ he laughed cruelly, beginning to stroke his cock with his free hand. ‘gonna cum all over this pretty ass. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

he was taunting you, cock pressing against your now red cheeks—hand prints visible as a reminder that this was a punishment, and you didn’t get a say when you’d decided to distract the two of them during the film.

‘fuck!’ coryo sighed as he came.

his pearly cum spurted out against your ass, trickling down to your lower back as you arched a little at the sensation. he let out another bemused chuckle, watching as sejanus came against his stomach, the pathetic look on his face clear to the both of you.

coryo put the phone down, and pulled you into his lap, uncaring that your ass was covered in his hot, sticky cum. he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your lips before gazing at you with his baby blues.

‘next time, you’ll know better than to disrupt me when we’re watching a film.’

[pursuitseternal]

“The Seventh Day:” filled with self indulgent A!A behavior (Astarbation) in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.9K of Astarion self-love

🎨 by @marimosalad full nsfw on X 🍆💦

Summary: Left behind, Astarion occupies his Ascended self first with some uncharacteristically (selfishly-motivated) selflessness, followed by some self-served reward in anticipation for your return home.

CW: Male masturbation (Astarbation?), panty sniffer/theif, he’s trying to be a helpful (selfishly), self-indulgent Astarion, Reflection Appreciation™️, he would be such a messy partner (in so many ways)

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

The Seventh Day…

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Oh… darling, I’m hurt. I thought we had something special…”

“You always say that, and you’re always hurt…” you fold your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

“Am not,” Astarion fires back, petulant like a child, until he realizes everyone is watching your exchange. He straightens his spine and picks the pretend lint off the cuff of his sleeve. “You go right along… you’re the leader after all, and if you think you can finish your business without the Vampire Ascendant in your ranks, then go, have fun…”

You level that glare at him that lets him know you see right past his facade to the bullshit underneath.

“No, really,” he purrs, “you go, I’ll just stay here while… you do all the hard work.” He gives you that arrogant smirk and tilt of his head, that makes you war inside whether you want to slap him silly or fuck him senseless. He can see it… in your thoughts, in the way your heart pounds slow and harder as his eyes look down your armored figure. “I’ll just stay here, tend the home fires and find little ways to comfort myself over your absence, darling.”

He flashes his fanged smirk at you, your nostrils flaring wide with irritation and lust. “Don’t make a mess,” you taunt. “Enjoy your alone time.” With that you spin on your heel and your chosen three follow.

Wyll in particular laughs loudest. “Don’t worry, once he finds a mirror, he’ll be entertained for hours, I’m sure.”

The group chortles as they shut the door to their rooms in the Elfsong, but not before you throw one more look over your shoulder at your lover. He’s just smirking, irritated and conflated despite his wounded pride, making a show for you in that one moment of unbuckling his armor to drop it at his feet.

You shake your head and smile, all the irritation you have melted into love as you blow him a kiss. Then you shut that door.

The instant the door is shut, Astarion grimaces and throws the rest of his armor to the ground in a huff. Petulant? Yes, but also hurt. He looks around the empty suite of rooms, collecting his armor, he decides to actually put it away properly for once back in his rooms. Your rooms. Besides, he has no interest in watching Scratch nap by the fireplace, or risk any of the other ‘strays’ who have joined along the way come up and bother him.

With a discontented sigh, Astarion slinks his way into your rooms alone. That open chest for his armor is so close inside the door, but he sets it down on the floor. See how she likes that… he smirks, imagining your usual comments made under your breath about his messiness as you insist on tidying up. You’ll have to step over it when you come back exhausted and bloodied.

A slight pang of guilt tweaks his gut, his eyes settle on it again, that pile of his armor… the stack of messy clothes—yours and his— discarded hurriedly last night before your fucked… A slight disgruntled smile crosses his face. Maybe… just this once…. He could entertain himself in a different way.

He starts putting the armor in the trunk piece by piece, and with each one he starts to think about how much you will smile as you see your rooms.

Another piece in the trunk… he can almost feel your blush color your cheeks at his thoughtfulness. Your gratitude will be palpable… and you will want to shower him with affection… willingness… Astarion sighs to think about how you will positively reek of sweat and blood and arousal when you see what he’s done for you, his darling.

He closes the lid of the storage chest with an eager groan, that ache in his groin blooming slightly just at the thought of what will come once you’re home. You’ll positively worship at his feet for taking such good care of you…

That ache burgeons into a full erection at the image he’s conjured in his mind. With one final grunt, he picks up the pile of discarded clothing from last night, setting it properly in the basket, one rumpled thing of fabric at a time in the corner to be laundered later. One hand adjusts his erection, the other holds the last piece of fabric from the floor. Your undergarments.

He pauses, catching your scent in the air just as he wraps his hand around himself…

… he’s just trying to fix that hardness… he tells himself. But he can’t help but give that cock in his grasp a little rub.

He hisses, trying to catch his breath, but his nose only fills with your scent stronger the longer he holds your small clothes in his grip.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself, unceremoniously sitting himself on the edge of the bed, surrounded by a tidy room. Surely, he deserves his own reward. And your own laziness last night to dispose of your underwear properly has just gifted him with a great incentive. That soft fabric, inundated with your musk, makes his mouth water. He just… has to…

He presses it to his nose, his cock freed from the top of his leathers as he slowly starts to caress it. It feels so good in his hand: the perfect length, the flawless width, the impressive hardness he always gets that makes every vein rise to the surface like marble. The masterpiece of a body that he is, he smirks to himself.

Another deep whiff of that delicious scent, he looks to the side, that large mirror so perfectly placed across from the bed, his idea. His eyes flit between watching his own cock pulse in his fist, staring at the perfection is his own reflection, and closing his eyes to take another deep lung-full of your scent.

Intoxicating, the beat of his own warm hand matches that pulse of his heart, a pounding so insistent in those veins. So steady and growing more pronounced even as he still works himself into bliss. Astarion gives a contented sigh, his thumb catching over that sweet, weeping slit to wet his cock head with early cum.

Indulgent, the way the faded ghost of your musk compliments his own as it grows with every leaking stroke he makes over his own shaft. No wonder you two are so destined for greatness, so perfect together… your bodies made for one another on some primal level, right down to your scents.

A few breaths catch in his throat, the corner of his eye now fixed on that mirror. He pauses to pull his shirt up higher, his leathers down lower, wanting to see more of himself, a body that has ruined so many… Small wonder, he laughs a bit darkly, a bit proudly. The edges of his abdominals protrude, just right, that deep v of his muscles drawing the eye inexorably to that now-glistening cock. Even his balls, so smooth and round and tight now as he feels the pleasure building deep in his core.

For once, now, this body is his to savor, to command and pleasure.

“Ahh…” the thought of reclaiming himself makes his cock leap almost out of his own hand. “Delicious,” he groans to no one but himself. Leaning back, he lets his hips buck into his hand a bit, just for a little extra show… a little more stimulation as his mouth starts to hang slack. He lets that fabric treasure of your underwear slip off his face, just a bit, so he can admire the way his own fangs glint in the sunlight.

Now, those weapons behind his lips, those fangs, those are something just for him, a decadence no one gets to enjoy but you… and himself now of course. With a groan, he longs to sink them into flesh, to feel that first burst of blood as it breaks through skin to coat his hungry tongue. And in his carelessness, he finds it, nipping his own lip to taste his own ascendant blood.

Rich… full… powerful… familiar… he groans. Incredible that you get to drink from him, what a treat for his consort and for himself. The thought of you suckling from his own neck, the play of your breath on his skin as you feed, shivers run down the base of his spine, making his muscles clench and his cock buck harder into his hand.

You’ll be so touched when you see what he’s done for you, his little act of humility to gain your immense gratitude… fuck… it’ll be worth it. The back breaking labor he’s done to please you and make you smile and see his love for you still, even with all he’s become.

Your eyes will sparkle, your lips will arch in that come-hither smile you give him… you won’t be able to resist letting him take you right then and there, however he wants…

His eyes flash to the mirror, the paint of blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears…. It makes his fist grip tighter, his hand beat faster to chase that pressure that needs release. The breath catches in his lungs, his teeth gritting as he feels his balls tighten and cock thicken as he strokes faster and faster…

Another glance at his beloved reflection— that slow seep of pearly cum leaking from his cock… perfection, seduction incarnate, he smirks to himself as he arches and his head cranes backwards. Grunting, sighing, he licks his lips as that pressure in his balls bursts at last, a few more erratic bucks into his fist, as he forces his eyes open to watch.

He juts his hips out forward, almost off the edge of the bed, angled just right to watch his cum explode out gloriously. The reflection, the pulsing he feels, the warmth that drips on his hand…

Head hanging down, tongue licking his lips, he watches as his cock twitches a few more times, that release overwhelming him as he huffs with open mouth. Drips of his cum spatter here and there on the floorboards, the few offending signs of…

The door swings open, you stand panting in its frame, a bit bloodied but none of it your own. Your sharp eyes take in the scene… your love panting, cock in hand, rosy post-coital cheeks flaring a hot pink as you catch him in his indulgence. And all you can do is smirk, knowing you have the upper hand on him, shaking your head as he starts to sputter excuses.

Then you notice what he holds in his other hand, your discarded undergarments from last night. Now your cheeks flame so hot, you’re pretty sure even your undead pale skin is blushing. “What…” but you swallow the question. Why ask it… you know full well what he was doing with your intimates. “I’ll skip the question and just point out that I left you alone for an hour… and you’ve made…” you smirk wickedly as you cross to kneel before him, “… such a mess.”

“Actually, darling, you’ve failed to see that I cleane—”

But before he can get whiny and defensive, you silence him, wrapping your mouth around his still, weeping cock. You moan around his length, not giving it lots of force, just a lazy bob of your head, a slow lick of your tongue. A few swirls of your lips laps all the extra cum from his velvety skin. Then you pull off of him, grinning with all your own self-righteous taunting. “That’s… how you clean, my lord.”

[kingkatsuki]

Kaji in an apocalyptic setting where he takes extra risks in order to get his hands on lollipop bags

@katsukikitten sent me this ask ages ago, and I finally finished it Ilysm thank you🥺😭

Pairing: Kaji Ren x f!reader.

Warnings: Apocalypse AU, profanity. Not proofread!

Word Count: 1.3k.

“I don’t know how anyone can be so fucking stupid.”

You heard Sakura before you saw him, looking up from an old copy of Seventeen magazine you’d found inside the house you were currently staying in. Kotoha jolted awake beside you from the loud noise as the front door swung open.

“That’s it, just walk away.” He continued as he arguably became louder.

Kaji stormed in first, followed by an irate looking Hiragi and an exhausted Sugishita. Sakura was bringing up the rear as he continued shouting at his old senpai.

“What the hell happened?” You dropped the magazine onto the coffee table as you slipped out from beneath the blanket you were sharing with Kotoha, noticing Kaji avoiding all eye contact.

“You need to keep your voices down, you’ll wake the dead.” Nirei trembled at the same time, while Suo looked up from his book with a twinkle of amusement in the eye you could see.

“I think that already happened.” Kiryu offered with a wide smile on his face.

“Shut up.” Sakura bit back, dropping down into the seat you’d just vacated moments earlier as he slouched back against the soft cushion.

“Is someone going to tell me what the fuck happened?” You looked back at them with worry in your eyes as Kaji stormed past you.

“I don’t know, ask your boyfriend.” Kaji had already disappeared beneath the makeshift curtain to your bedroom, “Clearly he’s got a fucking death wish.”

“What?”

“Did you get the supplies?” Kotoha chanced asking from behind you, “Ume and Tsubaki are in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, we got ‘em—“ Hiragi started before being cut off by Sakura.

“No thanks to Kaji.” He pouted from his position on the couch, “If I wanted to die I’d take my chances with the undead.”

“What did he do?” You looked at Hiragi nervously.

“Just go and talk to him.” Hiragi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and calm himself down.

You raised a brow before turning on your heels to make your way back to the small room you shared with Kaji, hearing the tail end of the conversation from the living room.

“Ren, what happened out there?” You fixed the curtain before walking towards him.

Kaji slumped against your makeshift bed — your sleeping bags nestled on the floor — his nose scrunched in irritation as a you noticed something between his lips. His back propped against the wall.

“Nothin.” He replied bluntly, his voice muffled by the sucker that now sat positioned in his left cheek, causing it to bulge slightly as you raised a brow in confusion.

“Is that a lollipop?”

Kaji gave a shrug in response as you came closer, planting yourself on his lap with your legs on either side of him. Gentle fingers tentively reaching out to brush back the greasy hair that sat on his forehead to check the small red gash that now crossed his eyebrow.

“I need to get the first aid kit,” You murmured, “It might get infected.”

“S’fine.” He mumbled, catching you by surprise as he circled his arms around your waist to stop you from getting up.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to force it out of Hiragi?”

“We picked up everything we needed from the pharmacy,” Kaji mumbled, suddenly finding a stray piece of cotton on your worn jeans more interesting as he began to pick at the fabric, “And we were getting ready to leave.”

“Okay.” You tried to coax him, wrapping youe arms around his shoulders comfortably as you continued to listen.

“And it’s not like I meant for it to happen, it wasn’t my fault—”

You waited patiently for him to continue as he found the words, clinking the lollipop to sit on the flat of his tongue as he sucked hard before continuing.

“A shelf fell, and then another one and I got my leg trapped under it,” He scoffed, “I could’a got out of it myself.”

You frowned as he told the story, wondering whether that was why he’d come back covered in dirt with a cut on his face.

“But they tried to help me anyway, and the noise woke bunch of the undead and they blocked the exit.”

“Jesus, Ren.” You exhaled, your heart hammered against your ribcage at the thought as you imagined them fighting off a small hoard, “But Hiragi wouldn’t have been mad at you for that— accidents happen.”

“It’s because I went back for these.” He sighed, pulling out three lollipops from the front of his hoodie pocket and holding them out to you.

The only thing that kept him from exploding on all his friends on the walk home, and the main constant in his life before the world went to shit.

“Ren.” You wanted to hit him for risking his life for something so meaningless, but deep down you could understand it from his point of view.

You’d seen Kaji at some of his lowest points since the world had changed, having to find new and experimental ways to try and manage the beast inside him when you couldn’t just open Spotify and find a playlist or grab a pack of lollipops from the local konbini.

It was difficult for him to adjust, and you knew the random outbursts left him feeling shameful and guilty despite them never being his fault. You knew Kaji better than anyone, and you knew he’d never purposely endanger you or his friends. He’d do whatever it took to protect you, but it didn’t mean he wasnt still terrified of the old him coming out in this new world order.

“You should’ve left them,” You shook your head, “Your life is way more important than candy.”

“But I’m still here, ain’t I?” Kaji scoffed, “Dunno why they’re so mad, I would’ve been fine.”

“They’re mad because they worry about you,” You hum, dropping down onto his lap as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you, seeking out the warm comfort your touch provides.

“Yeah but if something went wrong they could’ve just left me there.” He rolled his eyes, “I’d rather die than survive on cough sweets another day.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” You glared at him, “They’d never do that, and if they did I’d go and find you myself.”

“You shouldn’t risk your life for me.” He shook his head.

“Well, I would.” You glared, “You better not risk your life like that again or I’ll kill you myself.”

Kaji’s lips curled into a smile at that as he positioned the lollipop stick to the corner of his mouth so he could lean forward and kiss you, feeling his chapped lips brush against yours as you tasted the artificial candy on them.

“What flavour is it anyway?” You pulled back before moving your hand to tug at the bottom of the stick inside his mouth, hearing it clink against his teeth before he parted his lips enough for you to pull it out, “Cola?”

Kaji’s lips curled into a small smile as you held the brown spit-soaked ball up to the air with a frown, wanting to roll your eyes at the insanity of it all, “You risked your life for cola chupa chups?”

“Hiragi risked his life for a pack of gas-kun 10s last month and you didn’t say anything.” He replied defensively.

“You risk your life for a cola chupa chups again and I’m definitely killing you myself.”

Kaji’s warm fingers brushed yours as he took the lollipop from your hands, lifting it up to press the hard ball of candy against your mouth as he pushed it past your pouty lips to shush you.

“You think you can silence me with candy?” You spoke around the sweet, narrowing your eyes at him as Kaji broke into a grin.

“I can think of a few other ways,” He murmured, reaching out to grasp the back of your head as he pulled you into a languid kiss, his tongue lapping at the cola sucker as you matched his movements.