#happy birthday Sly!

[sly-s-n0nfusion]

Olberus for your soul

[a-gay-old-time]

An anthology of works by @the-sinking-ship

Volume I includes: Stupid Love, Quicksilver and Phoenix Fire, Criminal, Sweet Indulgence, Like Gold, Intention, Sugar Sweet, ‘Tis a Far Better Thing

Volume II includes: Things We Do, Dwelling on Dreams, On Target

Happy birthday, Sly! When you asked me the other day what project I was working on, I was so glad we weren’t face-to-face because I have a terrible poker face and the truth was I was working on this surprise birthday gift for you. Your writing is brilliant--sharp and witty, imaginative, vivid, full of tension, angsty, hot, tender, and everything else you could wish for--and it’s so amazing to have it all collected in these two volumes for you (minus the two other stories you’ve already got on your shelves). I hope you have a day that’s as lovely as you are!

I got to have more fun with edge speckling, bookmark charms, and multi-volume spine painting for these books which are three of my favorite things to do with books right now! I also went a little wild with water and ship imagery inspired by Sly’s username, The_Sinking_Ship. Like with Tit for Tat, I had the amazing opportunity to work with the incredibly talented @babooshkart on these books--they did the gorgeous wave art that’s found on the spines and on each title page and a whole new piece of art for Intention (more on that in the art post for this book because wow was there a lot of stunning art to include in these volumes)! These two books were made in a whirlwind in the last 2ish weeks, and I’m really happy with how they turned out! Fun fact: the first volume is officially the longest book I’ve bound so far at over 600 pages.

[justalonelyslytherin]

Happy Birthday to you and me

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Two people born on the same day at the exact same time were soulmates. Most people met their soulmates already in their early years. Some of them met them later. Then there were the people - only really a handful of them - that never met their soulmates. And then there was Steve.

If it weren’t for this, Steve still wouldn’t have been fond of his birthday. He didn’t like the grand parties celebrating him when in truth it was just a pretense. To his surprise, for this year Tony agreed to a small and laid back gathering with just the team.

It is then that fate turns kind and changes his life forever.

Warnings: Soulmate au, fluff, some angst but with a happy ending, hurt/comfort too I guess, Reader is intended to be European/written to be born in Europe

Wordcount: 6.2K

A/N: This is entirely self-indulgent. The idea arose when I realized that Steve and I nearly share a birthday. I was so close to having been born on the 4th of July xD So as both a (late) birthday gift for Steve and an early one for me I post this (at 00:00 between the 4th and 5th). Enjoy~

PS: Tony somehow ended up a huge jerk in this, sorry Tony.

PSS: This beautiful divider was made by the lovely @firefly-graphics, thank you for them!

A soulmate, people said, was the person meant to be your other half, the one perfectly cut out for you. 

Now if you asked most people about the definition of what a soulmate was they would answer ‘The person you share your exact birthday with’ because that was how it was. 

Two people born on the same day at the exact same time were soulmates. Mind you they didn’t have to share the same birth year. That in fact was a very rare thing. 

And yet people started obsessing over it the moment their child was born. There were entire web portals collecting people's date and time of birth and even the hospitals themselves offered a matching service to see if a child’s soulmate had been born in the same hospital.

Most people met their soulmate already in their early years. A large percent of them met in kindergarten or primary school. Oftentimes parents already knew their children's soulmates, had they already found them through said matching services or just the local playgroups. For although sharing the same birth year was a rare occurrence, it wasn’t so rare for soulmates to only be a couple of years apart.

Of course with a large percentage there followed a smaller percentage that didn’t have this luxury. There were the people who only discovered their soulmate in college or even later, once they had moved across the country or even somewhere else behind national borders. 

And then there were the people - only really a handful of them - that never met their soulmates. 

Some of them didn’t want to meet them, some of them had already lost them, some of them desperately searched for them and yet would never find them. 

And then there was Steve. Born 1918, experiencing the second world war, being frozen in the arctic for nearly 70 years. He hadn’t found his soulmate then and nor had he found them now. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, that he didn’t long to know if they were out there and what it would be to have finally found them. It just didn’t happen. Life or fate didn’t seem to want to grant him this experience. So at some point, he had stopped searching.

Still, there was a little portion of him left, deep down and hidden, that still had hope. That little part of himself that felt that there was still time, still a way, a chance for him to find them. He just had to be patient enough and it would happen. 

But that didn’t make it easier for him. With each passing year that part got smaller, quieter, as it was replaced with dread. 

Dread that it took so long, dread that the hope was pointless. Dread for another year, for another birthday to come and go by without having found the one.

In his childhood, they had never had enough money to celebrate it big. His mother would save some of the sparse money she earned and buy him a small treat, later on a new pencil or sketchbook. Bucky would give him some treats he had sneaked from somewhere, possibly, definitely stolen, and they would eat them while sitting on the stairs to their apartments.

After waking up from the ice he had found out that his birthday was now celebrated heavily. Besides it being a national holiday it seemed the people needed another excuse to celebrate. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like being in the spotlight, he didn’t like the attention he got that was never truly directed at him but always at the persona he had taken on.

Not many people understood his distaste for the day. Tony the least of all. Tony Stark loved to celebrate and nothing stopped him from throwing a good party if he wanted to. Steve knew it best for he had begged and pleaded with the billionaire year after year to have something small, not one of the usual exorbitant parties. He never succeeded, opting to make a quick appearance and then withdraw to the comforts of his room.

This year however Tony had finally listened. Steve wasn’t sure what had ridden Tony to agree with his wish of something small and relaxed, with only the team present. Nonetheless Tony had agreed and Steve had never been more thankful.

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers had very different views on many things. The scale and definition of ‘something small and relaxed’ was one of them apparently. Still, Steve supposed, it could have been worse. 

What he had imagined was a nice order-in dinner with all the team in the living room of the Tower. Not a luxurious high-end restaurant that - mind you - Tony had booked entirely for them. Even with them being the only guests he had also requested a private room in the back, shielded from the prying and spying eyes of paparazzi and other curious people.

The entire team was there, well, almost the entire team. One person was still missing.

Y/N looked out of the taxi’s window as the colorful scenery of the New York City skyline drove by. It was late evening, the sky dark yet the city was as bright as ever. The fireworks had already died down again. Halting, the taxi arrived at its destination. With a quick thank you, she handed the driver a wad of cash and left the vehicle.

She was sure to be the last one to arrive, seeing as she had just come back from a mission while the rest of them had had the day - or the last days - off. Slipping through the immaculate and tinted glass doors into the restaurant a pair of waiters greeted her to lead her to the backroom. She could already hear the buzz of voices that belonged to her fellow team members.

They were all in different states of busy, deeply absorbed in their conversations. Except for one person. The birthday boy stood with a glass of what looked to be whiskey in his hands and stared into space.

Luckily for her this space of nothingness he stared at, lay in her direction, and as she approached he saw. A small smile spread on his face as he watched her come closer.

“We were just waiting for you. F.R.I.D.A.Y. gave a heads up about your return,” he told her as he leaned in for a hug.

“Hello to you too Steve,” she jested with a smile, reciprocating the hug and holding it for a moment longer than what was needed or may be appropriate. For Steve the hug still felt too short.

“Happy Birthday. Another year to pass by in a blink of a moment huh?”, she murmured in his ear, knowing well that he wasn’t a big fan of the concept. He had told her so once in the middle of the night, at the back of a quinjet on their way home from a mission.

“Thank you,” he mumbled quietly, politely. Looking down he studied her. There was a faint bruise forming on her cheek and collarbone which made him furrow his brows.

“Did the mission go well?”, he wanted to know. He needed to know. If she was alright. While he would have been disappointed for her to miss this evening he didn’t want for her to be here if she was in better hands resting at the Tower.

Nodding she set to reply but got cut off by the rest of the team finally noticing her arrival. More hugs and greetings were traded with the rest of them. Tony was the last to greet her before he ushered them all to the laid table waiting for them. They all shuffled to the table to take their seats when a waitress approached her and asked for her preferred drink. Halting in her movement she thought for a moment before telling the waitress. 

Steve stood by her, ever the gentleman he didn’t want to leave her alone. Instead, he led her to the table and mumbled into her ear.

“Sit with me?” 

She looked over to him and nodded, smiling softly at him. 

“Sure. Want me to tell you about the mission?”, she asked. Steve now smiled at her too.

“Please,” he agreed. 

Exchanging one more smile the two headed for the table to join their team members. Everyone was already seated, except for them. Steve pulled one of the two chairs back and motioned for her to sit down. Only after she had sat down he pulled his own chair back and sat down.

Y/N’s drink arrived just a moment before more waiters entered the room to serve the appetizer.

“Tony chose the dishes?” Y/N had leaned over to Steve, eyeing the fancy concoction on the dark, square plate. She took a sip of her drink, the bubbles prickling her lips and making her grimace.

“What gave it away?” Steve joked before he studied her once more, now noticing the small cut on her lip and the droplets of blood at the corner of her mouth.

“How was the mission? Did you get hurt?” He had to know now. The suspense - the concern - was killing him.

“It was fine. Could have gone smoother for sure. It seems someone had been tipped off, informed of our arrival. Thus I was met with more hostiles than anticipated,” she picked up her fork and poked at the funny-looking dish. Picking up a small piece of it she carefully tasted it. It tasted fine she concluded before she continued to tell Steve, “I was able to hold my own, they got me once or twice. But I don’t think I have to mention that as you are perceptive enough to have already noticed.” 

Steve nodded. Of course, he had. Even if the bruising was subtle as it was still forming. How could he have not?

“Just the bruises?”, he asked instead, eyeing her closely.

“Yes, just these. I already applied some of Dr. Cho’s cream to help reduce the bruising.”

His eyes still focused on the bruises, not entirely pleased they were forming at all. Yet he knew best that this was the price to pay in their field of work and sadly it was inevitable to end up with some sort of injury. 

“Believe me. I gave them much more back,” she told him with a mischievous smile. “Knocked one out in an instant with the kick technique you taught me.”

Surprise made his eyes grow larger before he broke out in a proud smile. Looking down at her he wished to have been able to witness it.

“Well done.”

Conversation flowed freely between them for the remainder of the appetizer. The following courses were much the same, even if at some point they had to share their attention and conversation with the others.

Dinner went by fast and soon the last plate got cleared up. It was then that Y/N noticed Steve’s mood had changed. He seemed tense, his shoulders squared and the blue shirt straining over his broad back. The grip around his glass was choking.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, concern lacing her voice. Something was going on in that head of his but she couldn’t tell what it was. 

Steve snapped out of it, his stern focus shifting from the spot in front of him to the woman at his side. His face relaxed, no longer frowning but now softening as he looked into her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just…I have a feeling Tony gave in too easily at my request.” he contemplated for a moment, putting the fork on the table, before he leaned in and whispered into her ear, “I have a bad feeling there is going to be an unwanted surprise.”

Discreetly looking over at him, she studied Tony who was deep in a conversation with Bruce. He had been surprisingly calm and laid back the entire evening. No teasing, no snarky remarks which in turn was very unlikely for Tony. 

“Maybe Pepper talked some sense into him. You know how much of an influence she has over his decisions and actions.” Tony’s soulmate was a godsend gift when it came to reigning Tony in. She was good friends with all of them, so why not could it have been her doing?

“I’m sure nothing will happen. Dinner is almost over, we are only missing dessert aren’t we?” But Steve didn’t seem to be convinced.

“Okay, let’s make a bet,” she tried to take his mind off of it, to make him relax.

“A bet?”, he asked her.

“Yes, a bet. I bet you nothing will happen. It’s almost midnight anyways. The day is almost over.”

“And what if you lose?”, he smirked at her.

“Then I’ll buy you a whole apple pie from that one bakery you like so much. Just for you.” 

She knew how much of a sweet tooth he had for that particular baked good. He also claimed that this little bakery on the other side of town made the best pies known to mankind. Only that the drive there always took so long and they often didn’t have the time in between training and missions to go.

“Alright,” he agreed, how could he not if her offer was so tempting, “and I bet you against it. That something will happen.” She smiled and nodded, offering her hand for a shake to seal the deal.

“So what will I get when you lose?” 

Steve thought about it for a moment, looking around the room as he racked his mind for a good idea. His eyes landed on the small clock. It was nearing midnight and the look at the clock had made him nervous again. Y/N noticed it too.

“Steve,” she mumbled softly, putting her hand on his upper arm to reassure him “nothing will happen.” 

Both of them watched the clock's needle jut forward. Once, twice until finally, it landed at midnight. The day was over.

“See, nothing happened,” she told him softly, smiling. 

But she spoke too soon, for something did happen. Instead of plates with dessert two waiters brought in a big cake, with lit candles placed on top of it. They brought the cake and placed it in front of Steve, forcing him and Y/N to lean away from each other.

Tony had stood up and clapped. He started to talk after the two waiters had left again.

“Even though Cap asked for a laid back day without much celebration I felt this was due. Of course, I didn’t want to go against his wishes to not do anything on his birthday. Which is why, now two minutes after midnight on the 5th of July we want to celebrate our dear friend once more.”

“Tony.” Steve started but cut off again.

“I know I know, you didn’t want to be celebrated in a big way. Which is exactly why I did this. It is just a cake Capsicle. I promise. And if you still don’t want to celebrate, you can pretend we are celebrating you only secondarily.”

“What are you talking about?” The team looked confused. Any other birthday was weeks if not months away.

“You see, there is another birthday person here tonight…One who has kept her birthday a secret from us. Isn’t that right Y/N?”

All eyes turned to the woman that had gotten very quiet and reserved since the cake had come out. She hadn’t glanced away from the table. Only now her face slowly lifted. Blanky she looked at Tony, not saying anything.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Steve’s voice was tense and snappy.

“Y/N over here never wanted to share her birthday with me. Then one evening when we already looked a bit too deep into some glasses she mocked me. She challenged me to go find out if it so desperately wanted to know. Which is exactly what I did.” Tony revealed with a grand gesture as if this was the most normal thing in life.

“And that’s a reason for you to reveal it to everyone? No matter if she wanted us to know or not?”

“Steve.” Softly she cut him off before he went on a tirade. Her hand landed on his biceps, which made him halt and look at her. “It’s okay. I challenged him.” 

In truth, she hadn’t kept it a secret from then on purpose. Her birthday had never been a big thing for her, besides her aging a year there wasn’t anything sentimental connected to the date. And she didn’t really like celebrating her birthday. For most of her life the date had been used as a threat against her, a tool to manipulate her. It still left a bitter taste just thinking about it.

“Why don’t you two lovebirds blow out your candles together?” Tony suggested with a clap of his hands. Y/N shot him a dirty look for this comment which bothered him little, even going so far as to wink back at her.

“What? You two always act like two lovesick teens.”

“Tony.” Now it was Y/N whose voice was warning, daring him to continue to mock them. She didn’t like it. He was venturing out onto thin ice the more he mocked.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you two were soulmates. Born on the 4th of July at 18:14 and the 5th of July at 00:14. So close.” Yeah, so close and yet so far off. It felt accusing and the way it was even written on the cake in icing seemed to bore into her soul. A taunt, so painful.

“Tony that’s enough now!” It was Natasha that spoke up, calling an end to the mockings. It seemed incredibly rude and senseless to joke about such a matter.

Wanting to make a brave face in an otherwise very uncomfortable situation, Y/N put on a smile. She turned to Steve, whose expression was sour. He kept shooting daggers at Tony. Until he noticed her looking at him. Then his sole attention was on her, his face softening, questioning her wordlessly.

“Blow the candles out with me?”, she asked him softly. Steve didn’t like it one bit what Tony had sprung on them but when she looked at him like that, he couldn’t say no. There was an innocence to her, a softness as she looked at him like he could give her the world. All his resolve crumbled. Swallowing all his words, he simply nodded.

“Alright. Don’t forget to wish for something.” Y/N said in agreement and turned to the cake. But Steve had only eyes for her. He knew what he wanted to wish, there was only one possible thing he could wish for. 

The candles were nearly burned down and threatened to spill their wax onto the frosting. Still, she hesitated for a moment and watched the fire sway from side to side. The light reflected in their eyes, making them glow as she glanced over at Steve one last time. He gave her a little thumbs up under the table where only she could see it.

“On three.”, she concluded and mumbled the first number, “One.”

“Two.” Steve whispered softly.

“Three.” They said in unison.

Leaning forward they both took a big gulp of air and blew. The fire of the candles swayed in the air and went out, leaving behind only the faint billows of smoke. They stared at the cake, lost in thought until the clapping of the others brought them back.

Slowly starting to clap herself, she didn’t seem to notice much going on around them. Steve sensed something was off. He could feel the discomfort radiating from her. Ever since Tony had brought in the cake she had gone quiet, reclusive even.

Someone got up and grabbed a knife to cut the cake. It shouldn’t go to waste even if Tony’s well meant gesture had been anything but well. Steve hardly noticed the person stepping between them, he kept looking at Y/N.

Yet she didn’t look at him. Y/N didn’t look at anyone. Her view was directed at the white table cloth in front of her and nothing else. Even as Steve reached over to her and softly tugged at her arm.

Then the cake was served. Everyone got a piece. It brought her back, at least a bit. She pocked at the sweet confection more than she ate it. One or two bites that’s it. Steve hadn’t even touched his piece yet, too focused on the woman taking over his every thought.

The scraping of the chair was what alarmed everyone. Several heads turned around. Trying to lighten the mood again they had restarted their conversations. Everyone except for Steve and her. 

Y/N had scooted back and now was slowly rising from the chair.

“I think I’m going to head back to the tower. I feel very tired and sore from the mission.” 

If everyone thought that was an excuse and if they pitied her for what had happened, no one said anything. They nodded sympathetically and wished her a good night, to see her in the morning again. 

Everyone but Steve. He was rooted to his seat. Only as she neared the exit of the room did he jump up and follow after her.

“Y/N wait!” he called and softly grasped her wrist, his thumb instantly starting to draw small and comforting circles over her skin. Again she didn’t look at him.

“Look at me,” he begged, “please.”

Slowly she turned around and looked up at him through her eyelashes. He could sense her discomfort. But it couldn’t be him that was causing it, could it be? All he wanted was to make sure she was alright.

“Are you alright?” God, how many times had he asked her this already?

“I am,” she told him yet he didn’t believe her. She wasn’t sure she believed it either. Yet she brought herself to smile at him. It was a weak and unconvincing one. 

“Please just let me go, Steve. I am really tired. I’ve started to get a headache too. I just want to rest.”

“Let me accompany you back to the tower.” She shook her head.

“No, it’s okay. Really. It’s your celebration. You barely spoke with anyone else this evening. Go talk to Bucky and Natasha. Enjoy the rest of your birthday dinner.”

How could he enjoy it if she wasn’t there? He wanted to tell her that but couldn’t. She tucked at her wrist and he let go defeated. And then he watched her go with a sense of dread and disappointment. He couldn’t help but feel empty as he watched the doors fall shut behind her retreating form.

Something hit him in the head.

“Stop daydreaming Punk.” It was Bucky’s voice coming from the side that made Steve’s head turn. He was in the gym with Bucky, Sam, and Natasha. To train. He must have zoned out. 

“Let him be.” Sam this time. 

Bucky shot him a dirty look, one that was followed by the bickering of the two. Natasha rolled her eyes and leaned back on her hands. When had she sat down? The last thing Steve remembered was how he and Bucky had started sparring while waiting for the others to arrive. 

The others. Right. That’s what had thrown him off. Y/N was supposed to join them for their regular training session. Yet she was nowhere to be found. Just like the last days. She was avoiding him and he didn’t know why. Ever since the birthday party she did her damn best to stay out of his way.

“You really are upset about this huh?” Puzzled, he looked at the redhead, and she shot him a sympathetic smile. “I haven’t seen you so off-kilter before.” At her words, Bucky and Sam stopped their bickering and too looked at Steve.

What did she want him to say? Frustrated he scoffed before he dropped onto the floor, feet planted on it and knees bent. His jaw ticked with frustration as he ground his teeth. Yes, he was upset! And frustrated. He didn’t understand what went wrong and how he was the one that she avoided. It had been Tony who had overstepped and made both of them look like fools. 

Why did this affect him so much in the first place, some might ask. Well, because he cared about her. A lot in all honesty. He cared for her like he cared for no other. There was their bond as colleagues and team members, there was them being friends and then there was something more. Love. 

Slowly and over time he had developed feelings for her. Even though she wasn’t his soulmate. He who had been so hung up on finding the one, who had still some hope left to find the one destined to be his. She had made him forget the disappointment, his inability to find the one. She had made him feel true happiness and if she hadn’t also made him blush on more than one occasion he would be lying. Oh, how he had wished to kiss her in some of these moments. He had wished for them to have a chance in a world where your ideal partner was destined for you. The same world in which they got along so well, yet weren’t each other's soulmate.

Sighing defeated he let his head hang. He didn’t have to say it out loud for his friends to understand the predicament he was in. But the unspoken words weighed heavily on him. They were pulling him down and drowning him alive.

“I don’t know what happened,” he admitted. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling on the tufts until it hurt. “That cake was inappropriate but it’s not like I asked Tony to do it. Even less for him to reveal her birthday like that. I tried to stop the whole thing.” He huffed and shook his head. “She insisted on blowing out the candles,” he further mumbled and furrowed his brows.

All three of his closest friends looked at him. He had momentarily lost his train of thought, too caught up in ranting about the events of that night. What had gone wrong? It was a simple question, yet its answer stayed concealed.

“Is it so upsetting for her that we nearly could have been soulmates? Did the mention make her uncomfortable? Did it disgust her so much she can’t even be in the same room with me anymore?” Steve scoffed. 

He felt deeply hurt. There was so much sadness and anger swirling in him, clawing and ripping at his heart. All the sensations made it hard for him to breathe. 

“I don’t think that’s what’s going on with her, Steve,” Sam said. Raising one eyebrow Steve looked at him, urging him to continue.

“I think it’s the exact opposite.” He revealed, “She is upset you aren’t soulmates and by such a close miss too.”

“Tony wasn’t even right with her time of birth.” All eyes turned to Natasha. It had gotten so silent in the gym that they could have heard a pin drop.

“What do you mean?” Steve demanded to know. Was she saying that the date had been wrong? Could that mean there was a chance…? His head was spinning now.

“There are different time zones all over the world. You were born at 18:14 local NY time but she wasn’t. I don’t think Tony accounted for that.” All three men looked at her puzzled. She rolled her eyes and elaborated,

“She was born in Europe, which you should all know. There is at least a 6-hour difference between the two places.”

“So while it’s still  evening in New York, in Europe it would already be early morning of the next day?” Bucky questioned.

“Exactly.”

“Hold up,” Sam raised both hands. “So 18:04 on July 4th plus six hours is July 5th…”

“00:04.”

“Holy shit.”

He felt the blood rush to his ears, tuning out any other noise around him. That couldn’t be. It was too good to be true. He felt nauseous. Both from the shock and the excitement. It was a truly earth shattering realization.

But it made sense. It made so much sense. As if something had clicked, he realized so many things at once. 

The natural attraction and pull between them. It had always felt so good, so instinctive. As if it was meant to be. He hadn’t permitted himself to acknowledge it and more importantly he hadn’t allowed himself to think or act on it. Too good would it have been.

After waking up from the ice Steve had believed to have missed his chance at finding his soulmate. Surely whatever person fate had assigned to him had been left behind. For a long time he had thought Peggy was the one. Then he had become hopeful to still find the one. But after year after year of nothing, the hope had dwindled.

Maybe he had been scared of it too. Scared to finally have found someone who was so closely what a soulmate should be. He had been hesitant to go further and to be disappointed again. He had fought his feelings for her were a mistake. A gruel play fate had on him. He had been scared to have his hopes crushed once more.

Instead, the person he had craved to find for so long, who had wished to be by his side turned out to have already been there. She had been a steady companion of his.

“I need to find her.” Determination coursed through him. Scrambling to his feet he couldn’t leave the gym fast enough.

The room was silent as she padded through it on bare feet. The noise of the bustling city around her hidden behind the soundproof glass. Her slow breathing and the steady ticking of the clock were the only noise in the room. The quiet felt good. It was balm to her racing mind. The fibers of the towel felt soft under her palms as she squeezed at the damp strands of hair dangling over her shoulder.

Loud and frantic knocking startled her, made her drop the towel and look at the door. Steve’s voice could be heard from the hallway. He sounded urgent, yet she hesitated to answer the door. 

Facing him felt too difficult, too painful for her. But there also was this pull. This never-ending tugging at the depths of her mind made her want to seek him out.

The knocking didn’t cease, it lulled her in eventually. Made her set one hesitant step in front of the other. The door handle felt cool under her palm. There was barely enough time for her to pull her hand back again before the door swung open. 

Barreling in came Steve. She was his goal, her location his destination. He didn’t waste any time enveloping her in a hug. A hug that felt much more desperate and personal than the ones they had before. One with a purpose.

His urgency confused her. Everything right now confused her. Ever since the birthday party, since the reveal and Tony’s words. She hadn’t known where her head lay since then. And the reason for it? So simple and yet the most complicated thing in the world.

Truly it had upset her. Not her birthday being revealed, no. It was the other revelation that had shaken her to her core. It was a cruel joke of life to have given them such close birthdays. So close and yet so far away from being soulmates. As if developing feelings for someone who wasn’t your soulmate wasn’t enough of a ridicule. It was the worst torture she could imagine. 

It became too much for her. The hurting thoughts that had plagued her for days on end together with the close proximity of the one who nearly was everything she wanted him to be. Pulling away from the embrace turned out to be too hard. Steve didn’t give her a chance to get away, each pull of hers was countered with him tightening the embrace and inching her impossibly closer to him.

“Steve,” her voice wobbled. Finally, it made him respond in a different way. His head shot up to look at her. Her words left her, dying on the tip of her tongue. Instead, it was him to take the lead again, to speak up.

“Do you know what I wished for when we blew out the candles?”, he asked her.

“No,” she shook her head, voice weak and dangerously watery.

“That it was true you were my soulmate.” Gently he caressed her cheek, brushing away a tear that had escaped from its confines. 

His words were like an arrow shot straight into her heart. Just another cruel reminder that it wasn’t like that. That dream and reality weren’t one. Her face scrunched together with hurt, tears pooling in her eyes and threatening to fall. She didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t need to remind her too, when every waking moment caused her enough pain.

“A stupid thing to wish for really.” 

A wave of anger mixed itself into the hurt that penetrated every fiber of her being. Pulling one hand free from the embrace she raised her arm, ready to strike. Yet there was no strength she could muster to hurt him. Weak was the collision with his chest. A faint thrumming of her fist against his strong chest. It couldn’t even closely convey everything she felt.

His finger hooked under her chin and turned her head upwards again. He looked at her with a softness that would have made her heart sore in any other moment. Delicately his finger brushed her heated skin.

“So stupid to wish for something that was already there.”

“W-what?”, she whimpered. He didn’t make sense.

“You are my soulmate.” He mumbled softly and leaned his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed against each other, their breaths mixed.

It couldn’t be true, could it? This had to be another cruel joke, another notch to wear her down and hurt her heart impossibly more. Screwing her eyes shut, she started to shake her head.

“I didn’t need to wish for it when it was already true.”

“N-no,” she whimpers. It couldn’t be true. What was he saying? They weren’t. She would know if they were, wouldn’t she? Shouldn’t they have felt it? But what were the feelings between them then if not the pull of a soulmate. The love that could only blossom between the one you were destined to be with?

“How?”, is her question next.

Steve pulled back to look at her. Searching her face, he could see the pain and hurt slowly fading away. He hadn’t believed it at first either. But the moment he had heard at his heart he had known.

“Time zones,” he told her softly, “We were born in different timezones, but still at the same time.”

The last bit of her defenses crumbled and her shoulders drooped. A small laughter of disbelief left her as her mind was still reeling, trying to comprehend everything. Looking up at him there was no doubt in her heart. She had hoped for it to be true, she had longed for it to be true. The last days had left her heartbroken, the realization of her dreams to be naught had crushed her entire being. Now her heart had been mended again.

A smile started to spread over her features, one that became blinding in a matter of seconds. It was contagious, so much that Steve broke out in one not moments after. They stood there together, looking at each other, basking in the moment.

“Finally,” he murmured. After all this time he finally had found her. His one. His soulmate.

“Finally,” she agreed softly, equally as happy to have found the one.

They met in an embrace, lips connecting in a chaste kiss. The first of many that would follow. And as their lips parted again, they looked at each other. Chuckling, in disbelief of how happy someone could be, how magical one moment could feel. And as their foreheads touched once again, they were content.

Steve broke the silence after a while, “I believe you lost a bet.”

“Oh, I did?”, she mocked him softly.

“Oh yes you did,” his forefinger booped her nose as he grinned down at her, “but I never got to tell you what your prize would have been had I lost.”

“Well, what would have been my prize?”

“A date.”

“What a shame,” she mumbled quietly. Not actually sad to have lost this prize, for she had still won.

“What a shame indeed. But I will tell you something. I’ll share my apple pie with you and we can make a date out of it. This way both of us have won.”

Standing on her tiptoes she pressed a kiss to his lips, mumbling against them, “We already have.”

[babooshkart]

...he pulls two cigarettes from the pack, places them both between his lips, and lights them with the only bit of wandless magic he can do, mostly just a party trick Harry taught him a few months back. Or maybe it was last year. He can’t remember. Draco hands one of the cigarettes to Harry as he takes a drag of his own, the smoke curling around his face in a way that Harry finds rather debonair.

Intention by @the-sinking-ship (Drarry, 6.8k, rated M)

happy birthday Sly!!! I couldn’t help myself from doing this painting once I read this scene (Draco throwing his legs in Harry’s lap???? I’m fine), and pretty much immediately pictured it all in a limited color palette, which was so fun to do! Everyone go read this fic and yell about possessive Harry with me please and thank you

[beanbagbuddies4life]

Sly the Fox

via x x

Born September 12, 1996

Sly is a fox and tricky is he Please don’t chase him, let him be If you want him, just say when He’ll peek out from his den!

Sly also has a "rare" variant with a brown belly instead of white.

I put "rare" in quotes because Sly is one of the least valuable Beanies out there. At the peak of the Beanie boom, people were snapping up handfuls of Sly at a time to lock in display cases, only to sell them in mint condition for less than a brand new Beanie. (Right now they go for around $5.)

Anyway! Check out these trading cards lol. White- and brown-belly Sly each has their own card!

[legendarywolf2022]

Happy (Late) Birthday to Mr Wolf

I absolutely forgot to post this for Mr Wolf’s birthday but hey, it’s a good thing I’d always as an Unbirthday gift for him. Am I right?!🥳😅

[finsterhund]

You know what? Fucking fine. Do it Leechy. I don't care anymore.

Aka this is a shitty little paint meme drawover but it's also technically the first ever visual depiction of Leechy.

Happy birthday Leechy

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Ditch the Party...again

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

It's a beautiful day for a party, and Kento is a naughty, naughty goose drunk 🪿💛

And...LINK HERE to the original Ditch the Party

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink 💛

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Kento! Are you nearly done? We've got to go!" You leaned out of the bathroom, smirking at Kento and the scrutinising eyes he ran over your niece's expertly wrapped birthday present.

Kento grumbled, mildly offended; "'Nearly done'," he scoffed, "as if I'd leave it to the last minute. It's been wrapped for a week." You padded over to him, pleased with your gift choices; a knight's costume (complete with sword and shield) and a glittery nail polish set.

"I can't believe she's five already," you crooned, fingers grazing over her gift, wistful. Leaning down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kento smiled into your hair.

"I can't wait," he hummed, the prospect of parenthood filling him with fizzy excitement.

You looked up at him with sternly pinched lips, and an unwavering memory of your last badly-behaved-Kento party attendance; "Well, you'll have to wait. It's child-friendly today. The strongest thing going past your lips is pink lemonade."

You headed towards the door. Kento had the absolute audacity to look at you with total innocence.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Happy birthda-- oh, she's gone."

Leaning down to hug the birthday girl, your niece, was futile-- she darted away laughing, slippery as an eel, into the maelstrom of other children, several dozen boys and girls her own age who had taken over the garden.

The obnoxiously loud party music, screeching kids on the bouncy castle, bustling parents making awkward small-talk, and flamboyant party entertainers turned the scene into a sensory nightmare. You felt Kento lean close, his smooth voice grazing your ear.

"I'll get us a drink, shall I?"

Before you could turn and beg to go with him, he was gone, weaving back to the kitchen with a sly look in his eye. Other parents stepped back from you, the currently child-free sacrifice, and you were as a gazelle on the Sahara.

"Tag, YOU'RE IT--"

You squeaked as a child slapped your thigh, promptly sprinting away. You smirked, tying back your hair, ready to be the cool auntie.

Ready to be IT.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento strolled through your sister's kitchen, nodding politely to the horde of strangers, catching your sister's eye and being beckoned over. She looked sweaty, and harangued, but happy.

"Kento! Drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she bustled around behind her, scooping a ladle into an enormous crystal dish of juice, "Here, you'll need this, I promise. It's not that strong--"

Kento wasn't listening as two big red cups were pushed into his hands, and stared instead out of the window into the garden, his gaze meltingly soft and adoring.

He watched you, hair up, dewy in the Spring sun, laughing as you darted after squealing children. His chest burst, his head a montage of you and him and a fantasy child. Kento sighed, and took a generous swig of juice, thirsty after your long drive. He raised his fine eyebrows, glancing down into the cup.

"I don't normally like juice," he said aloud to your sister, who offered him a guilty little smile, "but this has something about it."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Panting, and being congratulated by your watch for completing a good workout, you lolloped away from the crowd of children, who had now mercifully abandoned you for a live magician.

"Where is that man," you pondered aloud to yourself, as you poured yourself a glass of lemonade in the kitchen, "who promised me a dri-- oh!"

You slopped lemonade down your arm with a squeak of surprise, as strong arms wrapped around your waist, a wet kiss being pressed behind your ear.

"Kento! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd left me," you teased, wriggling away to wash your arms at the sink. Kento hovered behind you, predatory in his affections.

"Leave you?" He began, low and sultry, "How could I possibly, when you taste so--"

Kento was interrupted, your mother leaning past him to give you a kiss. As you spoke with her, you reapplied your lipstick, and Kento felt a wicked lick of heat in his belly, all inhibitions thrown out of the window after three large cups of 'juice'.

Your mother left, and you turned to drape your arms around Kento's neck, ready to be held at arm's length in accordance with his strict ick towards public affection. With a jolt of surprise, you felt his arms lock behind your waist instead, holding you flush against his body, his light slacks and summer shirt (why was his tie loose? how were the top three buttons suddenly undone?) leaving little to the imagination.

"That colour suits you," Kento whispered, husky as his eyes flicked down to your lips, one thumb coming up to slowly brush your bottom lip down, shuddering at the lipstick coming off onto his skin, "but it would suit my cock much better, don't you think?"

You blushed furiously, trying to battle your way out of his arms as he chuckled against your decollete. Your frantic eyes spotted the punch bowl, your sister-- from whom drinks should never be accepted-- and a series of empty cups.

You stuttered up at Kento, feeling yourself throb against your will as his tongue darted across his lips, smearing the lipstick residue on his thumb onto his neck instead. You began to hiss at him, berating, squirming against him to release yourself from his arms.

Kento groaned into you, and you clapped your hands over your face to hide your blush; "Keep that up," he threatened, low and laughing, "and I might just have to tie you up before I cum in my--"

You dropped out of his arms, wiggling under them and whipping your head round to check for other people, before pointing a finger at him. You mimed zipping your lips, eyes glistening, cheeks pink, and Kento felt his cock twitch at you telling him off. You had backed away, but Kento smirked, lopsided, and slowly loped towards you, eyes hungry, backing you into a corner.

"Tag, you're it!" A little hand batted at Kento's leg, and he flipped smoothly, spinning and jogging off into the garden after your niece. You stood, red faced, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, and wondering where to hide to cover your sha--

"You alright? Looking a bit..." Your brother-in-law walked into the kitchen, and finished weakly, unsure if he was about to inadvertently insult you. You smiled, flapping your hand at him.

"Hot," you gasped, "running round after this lot!" He smiled appreciatively, offering you a cup of your sister's deadly punch. You took a swig before holding it away from your lips, coughing.

"What the hell did she put in this?" You sputtered. Your brother-in-law looked sheepish, at least, on his wife's behalf.

"Everything, I think," he apologised, "Kento likes it, anyway--"

"Oh, he would," you snipped, before excusing yourself to the garden. Unable to spot Kento amongst the knights and princesses, your neck prickled, feeling distinctly hunted.

Staring from treehouse, to bouncy castle, to little wooden playhouse, to game of tag, you raised your cup to your mouth, ready to chug a mouthful of Dutch courage-- and you felt a long-fingered, enormous hand pluck the cup out of your grasp from behind, hearing Kento release a hum of satisfaction as he drained your punch in one gulp.

"Gorgeous punch," Kento drawled, slipping one foot between yours and one arm round your waist, "let's dip your tits in it and I can suck it right off."

Without warning, Kento hooked one of your legs from under you as you squeaked at him, and he took the opportunity to heroically catch you before you fell to the ground.

A small cluster of parents looked over to you both. Kento dusted you off, smiling at you, and gently chastising; "you shouldn't drink so much at a children's party, darling."

Your jaw dropped. Wordlessly, Kento abandoned you and hopped onto the bouncy castle with your niece; you sputtered at the faintly judgemental looks from the mothers beside you. Mortified, you moved to the party food table, pretending to organise plates to hide how flushed your face was, and how you had to clamp your legs together to stop the throbbing.

Turning round once you had calmed down, you felt Kento's arms cage you in against the table, just like the last party, and you gaped up at him in mute horror. Kento maintained eye contact, brown eyes twinkling as he reached round you, picking up an eclair from a plate of party cakes.

"Cream-filled," whispered Kento, taking a languid bite, whipped cream pouring from the end facing you. Kento chewed, leaning close to you as he swallowed, tongue darting out to lick cream off his lips, "my favourite."

You could have exploded, your whole body on fire with embarrassment and want. Nearby, your elderly great-aunt cooed as Kento appeared to lovingly offer you a bite of his pastry. You were silent, stunned; she reassured you.

"Don't mind me, dear, take a bite!"

"I'm-- I mean, uh--" you stuttered, and Kento smiled at your aunt, pulling you in sweetly by the hip.

"I think she's full, actually," Kento laughed with your aunt, smiling again as she walked off. Spinning back to face you, Kento's smile was gone and replaced by wolfish hunger again, "but not as full as you could be, all fucked-out on my cock, hmm?"

"Oh my god, Kento," you whimpered, face in your hands, now surrounded by children being invited to the table for lunch. Kento smiled, bending down to pass plates out, before pulling you aside again.

"Say it again," he growled, low and desperate, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a fraction too long, "but next time, I want it because I'm pulling your hair."

You ran, positively melting, in dire need of a hiding spot. Zipping through the kitchen, past the living room, you rounded the corner into the hallway, finding the nearest cupboard, and darting in.

No sooner had you reached up, pulling a little string to switch the light on...than a hand, strong and determined, closed around the doorframe, pulling Kento into view. You felt faint, both hands pressed over your mouth to stop yourself from audibly gasping.

Kento never once took his eyes off you, stepping into the narrow shelved cupboard, and reaching up for the light pull. The last thing you saw before being plunged into darkness, was Kento removing his tie.

Your senses heightened, you smelled Kento's cologne before feeling his lips on your neck, shamelessly sucking you, tasting you. Kento groaned, loud and shuddering, and he laughed as you slapped him on the chest. You felt him thrust loosely against your belly.

"I love parties," Kento lied, and you scoffed.

"You hate parties, Kento, you just love--"

"Fucking you with words before squirrelling you away somewhere?" His mouth moved lower, shifting your shirt and bra aside to pull your nipple into his mouth, hot and wet and sucking you just a little too hard, "Foreplay, darling."

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Kento's hair, his other hand making quick work of undoing your shorts. Idly slipping his hand inside and underneath your underwear, you bucked against his hand, Kento shivering with glee at your delicious wetness.

"Fuck yourself on my hand," he whispered, husky with restraint, "and we'll see who cums first, hmm? A little competition." You clapped a hand over your mouth as he curled two thick fingers inside you, so long that the edges tickled your cervix and you felt him in your belly.

The heel of Kento's hand pressed flush to your clit, and your hips stuttered as you rolled them against him, seeing stars with the friction, rutting down onto his fingers, holding him by the wrist.

Kento had already undone his trousers in the dark, and palmed his aching cock desperately inside his boxers. Whispering filth to you, sucking and releasing your breast into his mouth again and again with wet pops as he pinched your nipple between his lips, Kento wished he had more hands.

"Keep going-- fuck, good girl-- such a good girl--" he whispered, unable to stroke his cock for fear of cumming down your thigh, his head swimming with your velvety wet walls clenching around his fingers, using his hand as a toy to pleasure yourself.

Kento felt his high begin to creep down his spine, his balls clenching, biting lightly against your nipple and trying not to rip into you like a wild animal. As you felt your own orgasm creep closer, humping the heel of his hand, fucking his fingers as deep as they could reach for relief...Kento removed his hand with urgency.

"--can't-- can't hold back--" he shuddered, shunting down your underwear for better access, "--can't waste it--" Kento grabbed your hand, wrapping it round his twitching cock, and settled his weeping cockhead against your clit, keeping his other hand close.

Wrapping his fingers round yours, keeping himself pressed against your clit, Kento stroked himself fast, his groans building, until they tapered off into stuttering moans. You felt short, hot bursts of Kento's seed hit your clit, and fall into his other, waiting hand.

Kento shivered and swore to feel you rub his cockhead on your clit, using his cum as lube. He had gathered the rest of his cum, thick and white, on his fingers, and thrust them back inside you, not stopping until they grazed your cervix again. Positioning the heel of his palm against your clit again, Kento squeezed your thigh, pulling it forwards to encourage you to fuck his hand again.

You complied, Kento's seed giving you the lubrication you needed, pressing your aching pussy down around his fingers until you felt him deep in your belly again. Kento's mouth and other hand were full, busy with your breasts, kneading and massaging and pinching as he whispered encouragement to you.

"--got to cum-- suck it all up into you-- then I'll fuck it in even deeper--" Kento's drunk filth rolled off his tongue without a filter, going straight to your core, and your orgasm burned through you like wildfire.

Kento kissed you deeply, drinking your cries and whimpers down like liquor. Kento's strong hand thrust you through your ecstasy, feeling your pussy clench and suck against his fingers, leaving barely a trace of his cum behind.

Pulling his fingers out, Kento replaced his hand with his knee to keep you upright against the wall. In the dark, you blushed to hear the wet sucks of Kento licking his fingers clean.

"Ready?" He toned, low and devious.

"For wha--" With little warning, Kento lifted you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pressing his half-hard cock into your pussy, still twitching from your recent orgasm.

Kento groaned into your neck, hot and squirming with overstimulation, letting your incoordinate shocked little thrusts suck his cock deeper, bringing it back to life. He felt himself twitch inside you, growing longer and harder as the blood rushed back.

Drunk on Kento's insistent need to fill you with his cum, you had tuned out the sounds of the party, letting Kento hold your weight and shuddering in delight as you felt his cock warm and swelling inside you. A change in the tone of voices beyond the cupboard snapped you to attention.

"Hide and seek!" cried a little voice in the garden, "You hide, and I'll count...one, two--" A flurry of little screams and footsteps came closer, into the house.

"Kento," you hissed panicking. Kento chuckled against your neck, rutting lazily into you, trembling with the bittersweet tang of overstimulation. Encouraging you to lock your hips round him, Kento looped his tie through the door handle, wrapping the tails around his hand and bringing it back to your arse you hold you up again.

"One more time," he moaned, suckling little red hearts into your skin, "I won't-- won't be long--"

Hearing Kento's wavering voice, so intoxicated by his need to fill you, you slipped two fingers down, shivering as you used the remnants of his cum to rub circles on your clit, deliberately squeezing your walls around Kento until he whimpered against you. Feeling you pleasure yourself around him had Kento reeling.

Kento began to lift you by the thighs, ramming you down onto his cock, now rock solid, and you muffled your squeals into his chest. You heard him growl, shuddering as you bit into his pecs, and it spurred him on to fuck you harder. Clinging on around his neck, Kento felt a rush of satisfaction as to your pussy quivered in response to his brutal pace.

"--so close--" he whined, his breaths hot and panting, fruity with the deadly punch that brought him to this, "--got to-- you first...fuck, so deep--" Kento's arms faltered, and you dropped deeper around his cock with a squeak, the jolt making you convulse with pleasure.

Kento came with a muted growl, biting into you, unable to press himself any deeper than he already was. Overtaken by the euphoria of feeling himself twitch and spurt inside you, hearing you trying to suppress your gasps, Kento thrust lazily into you, finally satisfied, panting as he came down from his high; you flopped against him, lost in delirious pleasure.

Your stomach dropped as you heard little voices outside the door. Kento held his tie taut as hands pulled at the handle, before declaring "it's locked!", the footsteps scurrying away. Kento chuckled into your neck, devious as you slapped at his chest again.

"You need to lie down," he whispered into you, helping you to dress yourself again, filled with anguish as he thought of his cum dripping out of you.

"I do need a lie down," you agreed, still giggling and love-drunk. Releasing the tie and taking you by the hand, Kento peered surreptitiously out of the doorway before spiriting you away to the living room. A set of little boys and girls, dressed incoordinately as princess-knights, sat playing with nail polish and make-up.

They looked up at you both as you approached, taking your rumpled appearances in as evidence of a really fun playtime.

Kento filled once more with wicked intent.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Lying back on the sofa with cucumber over your eyes, your lips were pursed as your niece plastered them with sparkly lipstick.

Kento sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, fingers splayed, nails now covered with nail polish of pink and red and gold and--

"Where did they get this cucumber?" You asked, sniffing, frowning. Kento's jaw twitched, answering after thanking a blushing little girl for her wonderful manicure.

"Sandwiches."

[bluexiao]

#“is this… a love bite, darling?”

—you have a hickey… or is it really?

CHARACTERS. Al-Haitham, Ayato, Childe, Kaeya, Kazuha, Tighnari, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Xiao

THEMES. mostly crack, slightly suggestive, fluff (mentions of scenting on Tighnari’s but it’s for the laughs anyway); has a few curses here and there

NOTES. I’M BACK !!! haven’t written this much for… weeks? i think it’s been a month or two. i hope i did not rusted out but hey enjoy~ also, happy birthday ayato yay

XIAO knew very well that he had mostly been absent these days–actually, for most of the days. It is true, but he did try to give you as much time as he could whilst not overlooking his duty to Liyue.

This time, you tried to play a prank on him (well, you did miss him a lot), and it was a suggestion from your friend… yep, it is certainly not the boss of your Yaksha’s god who is probably now awaiting for the news of how your lover will react on that small mark on your neck.

“What is the meaning of this?” his voice looms over all of a sudden.

“Xiao!” You jump for a second, surprised at how fast he had gotten in the room when you had just barely uttered his name aloud. Your surprise strengthens even more as his spear falls to the side and he steps forward to your form, eyes trained on your neck, with a hand raising carefully-

“What… happened to your…” he trails off, raising his eyes to meet yours, “why are you hurt? Did… did someone do this to you?”

You could tell that he was this close to speed off to try and find anyone who could have possibly caused such a mark in your (delicate) skin—ah!

“N-no, I mean… I just…” you bit your lip, I just scratched it… a bit too much, I suppose,” you then took his raised hand (that was too fearful to even touch you), and smiled gently his way. “Don’t worry about it too much, love.”

The tension on his shoulders ease up, but you could tell he was still worried with the frown on his lips and the concern in his eyes.

“I see… should I ask for an ointment? Yes, I probably should… I’ll be back in a moment.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

The WANDERER’s eyes immediately zero into your neck.

Was he forgetting something?

Did something happen last night??

Did he perhaps accidentally do something that-

“Hey, what’s on your mind, love?” you’d try to get him to spit it out-but nope, he wouldn’t say a single thing about it.

You’d probably think he was all jealous and shit, but this prick actually misunderstood it!

“No, it’s nothing,” he hurriedly dismisses you, looking away with a small blush on his cheeks, “it’s just… do you not have a scarf?! It’s cold nowadays. Can’t have you sneezing right in front of my face.”

He immediately tries to get a hold of a scarf—no matter whose it is.

“But it’s not cold in Sumeru at all!”

“Oh, is it? Then still wear it. The sun might damage your skin, can't have you complaining about it.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

TIGHNARI, for one, is naturally someone who does not shy away when words need to be said. A very straightforward one, you need not be told as you already knew very much. So when the time came that you suddenly had a mark on your neck (that you did not know where it came from) and it looks very much like a love bite that someone would give to a person they like, he was already by your side in a heartbeat.

“Hm, I do not think I quite recall giving such a mark on you, darling,” he’d whisper next to your ear as he so nonchalantly brushes away the piece of clothing that tried to hide the mark—but it wasn’t enough, it appears… or so you made it to be.

“Nari, I-”

“Huh? What was that?” He’d cut you off purposefully, an arm around your waist. And all of a sudden, he was all over you, probably scenting you like a madman until he realizes it was all fake and he’d pretend nothing happened in the past few minutes when everyone and you saw how he reacted not too long ago.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA is a sly little piece of shit. He does not ask you anything about it until he gets close enough to examine them. Would very much know what you would think before you could even think about it (sometimes he has his friend, the wind, tell him about it, what a weirdo right), and he would call you out in a way that would not be too direct, sometimes, it would even take you a while to realize that he was trying to communicate to you something and he would just be very patient about it.

“Dove, I think you have something on your neck,” he’d probably say, and you’d stiffen as you thought he caught on to your act… but he’d just flash you a sweet smile as he raises… a leaf.

A fucking leaf.

Where in Teyvat did that even come from?!

“I suppose even nature loves the feeling of your skin, my love.”

Nope! He definitely has you all figured out and is just trying to make your skin crawl… well, two can play the game, right?

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAEYA would know what a love bite would look like, especially when it’s from him and on you.

And this one on you? Well, it doesn’t even look like a hickey.

Ah, he would think, he gets it now.

One look was all it took for him to find out, and one look was all it took for you to find out what was in his mind as well. With this, you would begin to think of ways to try and not let him get you alone, but you soon realized that even if you two were with friends or in a public setting, this man would not stop at anything… to tease you back.

“What is it, dear? Don’t tell me… you’re giving up now, are you? Come on, you have my whole attention. What is it that you want from me?”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CHILDE would also very much know what his hickey looks like—and this one is definitely not his!

Actually, he did not even notice just how much you botched this fake hickey because he was already marching his way toward you.

“Babe, you’re coming with me,” he thought he was smooth as he ushered you out of the Bank, his subordinates following your forms before whispering about the mark on your neck once you two were out of reach.

Oh, how many people you fooled that day.

“What is the meaning of thi—” he immediately stops on his tracks as he finally realizes once he was this close to you and once he had focused on how it doesn’t really look like a love bite at all and how idiotic he probably looks and sounds right now.

Your laugh suddenly resonates through the walls of his office, even playfully slapping his shoulder as he purses his lips into a pout and narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I won this time, babe, sorry not sorry,” you flash him a grin and he could not help but melt at how angelic you look right now despite the looming defeat he had.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AYATO was quite certain of his absence. It cannot be blamed on the nature of his position and his work, however, it was still irresponsible of him to neglect his lover. And thus, he was actually in the middle of a plan for his surprise for you a few days from now–to at least make it up for the lost time due to the work he had taken over these past few days.

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Surely that mark on your neck, just a few inches below your jaw is not a love bite… right? He was fairly sure that he had been away for the past nights prior to tonight, so…

“My dear, do you not feel like your neck feels lonely these days?” he’d ask in a smooth voice, then pulling out a box behind him, revealing a gift that encased a gorgeous necklace that you were pretty sure cost a lot.

You failed to answer or say anything at all, baffled at how easily he had gotten you speechless and to forget about the prank you had set up for him–wait, has he not seen it yet? You’d question yourself, surely, he could have, right?

“So, would you like to explain to me why there is a fake love bite on your skin? Darling? Perhaps you’d like to see what a real one looks like.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AL-HAITHAM is another self-aware man, at least, that’s what he thinks he is. If you had been with him for a long time or at the very least knew him as much, you would know just how much of a lie that is. After all, Al-Haitham is a very dense guy. He may be aware that he had been busy the past few days, but his thoughts do not wander toward how you might feel because of this.

“Is there… something I am missing?”

He asks with a tilt of his head to the side, probably looking at you up and down and… something just seems… odd.

“What?” You raised a brow as you felt your face heat up—did he see it? Questions rose to your mind as you can’t help but also feel embarrassed with what you’re doing right now.

He doesn’t notice it!?!

“Ugh, never mind!” You walk out of the room, and unbeknownst to you, he is mumbling on his own before he settles his eyes on his book once more.

“That mark… did I make that?”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

TAGLIST (please fill up this form if you wish to be added or removed) 

@jasmyluv @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @raideneiari @zushikiss @aravensquill @ajaxstar @tanuki-s @flutterawayx @eoues @yhreah @dojis @alatusprinz @crystalcrys @eunchaeluvr @inquiryofjades @enpopcandy @his-simp @moronsoyeon @frozenangelheart @inufinuf @kunisbeloved @ieathairs @patimiet @mooonluv @duhsies @herdrops

[hgfictionwriter]

Birthday Gift

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It's Jessie's birthday and she can have whatever she wants. Including you.

Warnings: Serious smut. Edging. Strap sex, etc. Language as well.

A/N: In response to this request. Agreed - don't really see her being into anything too wild, but figured I could swing this. Sorry it took so long!

"Are you still okay with this?"

Jessie had just put the car in park. She tentatively peered at you and awaited your response. You unbuckled and leaned over to give her a reassuring kiss.

"I am. I told you - I trust you."

"Okay," she said, the faint frown of concern fading from her face. She exhaled, readjusting and sitting back quickly in her seat as she wiped her palms on her jeans. She turned to you. "Safe word is?"

"Kalamazoo," you answered with a laugh as you gathered up your things.

"Let's hope nobody talks about Michigan." Jessie chuckled as she tucked her phone into her back pocket. She looked to you, resting her hand on the side of your neck as she leaned in kissed you. "I love you," she said softly as she pulled back to look into your eyes. "There's no one I'd rather do this with."

"Well I hope not," you said playfully with a laugh. She pulled back and gave you a bashful look, scratching the back of her head.

"You know what I mean," she mumbled as she began to blush.

"I know," you consoled as you leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"Well, I'd be careful if I were you," she returned with a sly smirk forming on her lips.

"Touché," you noted. "You're the one with all the power tonight."

"I'll be good. I promise," she said, still teasing, but retaining earnest to reassure you. The last thing she'd ever want is for you to feel like she was going to take advantage or push you too much.

"I never worry. I know I'm safe with you and you'll take care of me."

She smiled tenderly at you, studying your features before giving you a decisive nod. "Okay, let's do this."

You walked up to her teammate's house hand in hand. The music emanating through the walls would've been a clear indication of how lively the party was if the cars lining the street and bustling shadows in the windows weren't already.

You reached the doorstep and leaned into Jessie ear, her wavy hair tickling your face. "Happy birthday, my love." She scrunched up her nose at you.

"It's not my birthday anymore," she grumbled. She wasn't big on birthday celebrations - she dealt with enough attention, so she didn't love having a whole day dedicated to her. She gave you a pointed look. "And this is certainly not my party."

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. "Belated birthday. Between you and me." You caressed the back of her hand and whispered. "This is your present after all."

You went to step forward and she pulled you back into a quick kiss before releasing you. "I love you," she told you one more time before you entered the house.

After you made your rounds together to say “hello” to everyone, you both went to the kitchen and Jessie grabbed a couple of drinks. She handed you a solo cup.

"You're sure?" She asked once more, keeping her voice a bit low, but still enough to be heard above overlapping conversations and music flowing through the house. You smiled at her, she really was too sweet.

"I'm positive." You leaned into her, melding your body with hers as you tilted your head into her ear to whisper. "I told you - you can do whatever you want with me. I'm yours for the taking."

Her hand came up to rest on your waist and her thumb snuck under your shirt to graze the sensitive skin on your hip. "Okay. Well, I'll see you later, then."

You gave her a quick kiss, giving her a mischievous smile. "Bye, lover. Have fun."

You went your separate ways, each of you talking with different groups. Jessie stood with Janine and Morgan, only half-listening to their conversation. Instead, her attention was drawn to you across the room with Sophia and a few others.

You were sitting on the couch engaged in conversation, sipping your drink now and then. Jessie watched you as discretely as she could over Janine's shoulder before she took a breath and pulled out her phone. She feigned attention again before initiating a few taps on her phone.

Jessie stilled as your body tensed up momentarily and you quickly recovered, readjusting your position on the couch and taking a sip of your drink. Everyone else carried on with the conversation undeterred - no reactions - Jessie bit back a grin. She had to cast her gaze down to her feet to stop herself from full on beaming when you shot her a glance across the room. She couldn't rid herself of the lingering smirk on her lips and she merely took a sip of her drink to hide it.

This was going to be way too much fun.

Jessie tried to refocus on the conversation at hand, but her thoughts were too preoccupied with the events that led up to this.

Her birthday had been a couple of weeks ago. You two had kept it low-key, but when you were in bed together later you'd offered to let her do whatever she wanted to you. Jessie was initially caught off guard and told you that she was happy with what you normally did. She must've hesitated just so because you repeated your offer.

After a few tentative moments, Jessie had asked for a rain check, which you obliged. It took a week for her to work up the courage to ask you for what she wanted. She remembered how her heart was racing and how hot her face felt, positive her cheeks with deep red with embarrassment when she merely passed you her phone with a website open on the screen.

"A wireless vibrator?" You asked - no judgement in your voice, simply curiosity.

Jessie flushed further, even ducking her head a bit as she shrugged. "If you want." To her relief, you smiled and kissed her.

"Tell me what you want," you encouraged, a lilt in your voice.

"The party next week. You wear this in your panties. I control it from my phone. I can tell you more if you want to know - I've read up on it."

You rolled your eyes affectionately. "Of course you've done your research." You leaned in to kiss her again. "Being under your control? No one knowing as you bring me to the brink from across the room? Kinky," you finished lightly and pulling a deeper blush out of Jessie. You grinned at her. "Sounds like fun. I can't wait."

The whole night Jessie imagined she looked like the cat that ate the canary. She wasn't sure if there was a moment where there wasn't a hint of a smirk on her face.

"You are so cute." Jessie's eyes snapped over to Janine, the blonde's words bringing her back to reality. "You are so smitten with her. You've been watching her all night."

Jessie grinned smugly. "She's the best."

She glanced over at you, who was now standing in a circle with a few others. Your cheeks were a bit flushed and there was the faintest sheen of sweat starting to form on your forehead. She'd heard you dismiss it earlier with a comment about how hot it was in the house.

Jessie brought out her phone again. She saw your posture falter just slightly, no one would notice unless they were really paying attention. Her eyes sparkled as she watched you clear your throat and straighten back up. You took a sip of your drink, a subtle shake in your hand, and made eye contact with Jessie out of the corner of your eye. She gave you a wink.

"If someone had told me ten years ago that you'd be winking at a girl from across the room, I would've told them they've lost their mind," Janine laughed.

Jessie kept an eye on you and excused herself from a conversation when she saw you heading into the kitchen alone. She had to bite back a grin when she walked in to see you bracing yourself at the counter and gulping down water. She waited until you'd set down the cup before she buzzed you again. Jessie beamed as your knees gave way just a bit and you gripped the counter as discretely as you could.

She came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and leaning over your shoulder to whisper in your ear.

"It's just us right now."

You let out a relieved moan and turned in Jessie's arms, immediately wrapping yours around the back of her neck and leaning on her tiredly. She kissed your cheek and held you up.

"Oh my God," you nearly panted. "I feel like I'm running the most bizarre, erotic marathon of my entire life." You pulled back to look into Jessie's eyes. She was watching you with excitement and adoration and you blushed under her attention. "I don't know how much more I can take."

Jessie nodded. "You're amazing. This has been so fucking incredible." She lowered her voice further. "My girl, you've been so good tonight, I think you deserve a little something." She smiled at how you wrapped your arms tighter around her. Jessie took a step back, hands still on your waist and spoke, "Finish your water. I'll be right back."

You weren't sure what she was up to, but you did as you were told, also taking the opportunity to properly catch your breath. It was only a couple of minutes before Jessie came back. You gave her a curious look upon seeing the glint in her eye.

"Come with me," she said as she took your hand and led you through the house. You followed her to the top floor of the house and into one of the far bathrooms.

You raised your eyebrows teasingly at her as you nodded to the backpack she set on the floor. She must've had it in the car. She gave a wicked grin and closed the space between you, gently pushing you against the wall kissing you slowly and deeply.

"Well, if my baby is going to indulge me and be such a good sport, I have to make sure she leaves here satisfied," she said in a husky voice as she pressed her hips against yours and gave a gentle thrust.

"Fuck. Jessie," you breathed. Your body was so wound up and ready for release that just that small movement sent waves pulsating from your core.

She began undressing you, your jaw falling slack as she took off your panties and relieving you of the friction and pressure they'd been applying all evening. Jessie looked up at you from on her knees with a bright smile as she tucked the vibrator away into her bag and retrieved her strap.

"I'm not going to last long," you warned her as she began strapping up. You didn't even realize that you were instinctively clawing your fingers against the wall as you watched her get ready. "I'm so fucking desperate right now." She gave you a self-satisfied smirk.

"Well thank God for multiple orgasms, then," she said in a low voice as she pushed you back against the wall and kissed you.

"Oh my god," you said. "I don't know if I can be quiet." She nodded in the direction of the hall.

"The music's way too loud. No one's going to hear. Be as loud as you like," she finished with a grin and kissed you softly before reaching down and rubbing the head of her strap against your lips. She let out a breathy, pleased laugh as it slid through your slick folds with ease. "Fuck babe, you are so wet."

"An evening of edging will do that to a girl." Your laugh was cut short when Jessie bent her knees slightly then lifted her hips, entering you easily. You'd been patient enough and she wanted to show some mercy.

A gasp escaped you as your head fell back against the wall. Jessie cursed as she withdrew and slowly sank back in.

"Holy fuck. You are absolutely dripping wet," she said as she began playing with your clit, making sure to be gentle for now given how stimulated you were.

"Oh my god, Jess." Your mouth was agape and you held tightly onto her shoulders for support as she entered you with slow, deep thrusts.

After a while, although Jessie was being gentle, the attention on your clit was a bit too much after so much stimulation throughout the night.

"Jess," you panted, bringing a hand down to rest on hers. She stopped immediately. "Just fuck me. I can’t wait anymore, I need it hard. I need you so bad," you told her. She kissed your neck and gave you a smirk.

"Gladly. Come on, baby." She reached down, grabbing the back of your thighs and hoisted you up easily. The change in position immediately sent jolts through your body and you whimpered as you wrapped your legs around her toned waist.

"That's my girl," she whispered as she began to thrust into you again and kissed your neck tenderly.

You moaned her name and she began to pick up her pace. Curse words began to fall from your lips as she pumped into you with sharp, strong movements, her strong hips slamming against you as she bottomed out.

Your arousal made wet sounds every time Jessie withdrew and pumped back in, pulling wanting groans out of Jessie as she fucked you against the wall. She dug her nails into the underside of your thighs and bit her bottom lip as she pulled back to watch as you bounced up and down on her cock.

"You are a fucking vision," she said in adoration as she watched you.

It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit. A cry fell from your lips as you gripped Jessie impossibly tighter as your orgasm ripped through you. Your mind was blank as your body completely took over - the hour or more of teasing and build up hurtling you over the edge like you'd never experience before.

Jessie held you firmly in her arms, very gradually slowing her pace until she simply rest inside you as your body grew limp her arms. She chuckled softly as she kissed your cheek and gingerly lowered herself and you to the ground, carefully setting you down on your back.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

You could barely process her question, but when you did you gave a feeble nod. She stifled a laugh and kissed your cheek once more.

"I love you so much," she said.

Several moments passed, your chest heaving up and down as you worked to catch your breath and recover. When you could begin to think somewhat clearly again, you opened your eyes to see her gazing down at you. She smiled and captured your lips in a kiss.

"Thank you." You said after. Her forehead creased in confusion and you chuckled. "That was the kind of orgasm you thank someone for."

"Oh." She blushed. You had to laugh. You leaned up and kissed her sweetly.

"Only you could give a girl a mind-breaking orgasm and then blush about it afterwards."

To your point, she blushed deeper, her lips pursing together in a bashful smile. Then, setting her shoulders back a touch and now offering you a smirk, she said, "Don't get too bratty. I'm not done with you yet."

To emphasize her point, she slowly drew her hips back, grinning at how you immediately gasped, your head falling back against the floor, before she achingly slowly pushed her hips back down into you.

"Remember who's in control," she whispered.

A moan fell from your lips as she began to rock her hips into you at a slow, languid pace. When she felt you were ready, she pulled back and pushed into your forcefully, pulling a needy cry out of you.

"Oh, fuck, Jess," you whispered as you subconsciously clawed at the back of her arms. "You feel so good inside of me."

Jessie growled in your ear and suddenly she sat back. You looked down your body at her to see her taking you in with dark eyes. In a few swift movements, she helped you up and soon had you bent over the counter, facing the mirror. She locked eyes with you in the mirror before tilting her head and beginning to kiss down the middle of your back.

You moaned deep in your throat as she sensually trailed kisses down your spine and her hands caressed your breasts. You found herself rolling your hips back against her, looking for the sensation you'd lost when she pulled out.

"Look at how needy you are, baby." Her voice was husky as she began to shift her hips, her strap pushing through your wet folds. You nodded and leaned forward on the counter, opening yourself up to her more.

“Fuck,” she breathed in appreciation as she looked you up and down.

"I need you inside me," you told her, only vaguely aware of how high and wanting your voice was.

"That's my girl," she said in approval as she rocked against you further, your juices coating her strap anew.

Before it could become too much, Jessie placed a hand on your hip and you felt her line herself up with your entrance. She looked at you in the mirror and sunk into you.

Your mouth fell open and you blindly palmed the counter, looking for something to anchor you as pleasure coursed through you and your knees nearly buckled with a single stroke. You found the edge of the counter and clutched it desperately as she filled you completely. She held herself inside of you.

"Are you okay, baby?" She asked gently. You nodded eagerly and opened your eyes to an impish grin now forming on her face. She laid another kiss on your back before standing up again. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Whatever you were going to say got lost on your tongue as she drew back and lunged forward. You threw your head back at the sensation.

"Tell me if it gets to be too much," she told you.

Soon Jessie was thrusting in and out of you, each stroke hitting that sweet spot that sent pleasurable waves through you. Her thrusts were strong and fast, her hips slamming against your ass. Although the music from the party was still loud, the sounds of her hips clapping against you filled your ears.

"Oh my God," you repeated over and over as she pistoned in and out. You caught a glimpse of yourself when you managed to look up and saw an image of you rocking against the counter, your knuckles white as you gripped the edge with Jessie behind you.

Her fingers dug into your hips and she was staring down at you as she fucked you from behind. She was in a trance, wearing the slightest frown on her face as she concentrated, her cheeks red, sweat beading on her forehead, and her mouth slightly agape as she breathed hard. It turned you on even more.

A particularly wanton moan escaped you as Jessie reached up and grabbed your hair and tugged your head back. She exhaled shakily, her jaw shifting as she devoured your reflection. She started pumping into you harder and she tightened her grip on your hair.

"Jessie, fuck," you panted, your back arching against the counter as she railed you. "So good."

She watched you hungrily and it wasn't long before you came undone. She grunted as she thrust into you. The sight of you gasping and coming around her cock for the second time tonight pushed her to a high as well.

"Fuck," she muttered harshly as she eventually slowed her rhythm and pushed in one last time to the hilt and collapsing on your back.

"Oh God," you babbled, your face flush against the counter now and unable to even open your eyes. "Holy fuck, Jess." She absently laid a kiss on your shoulder.

"You are the most incredible woman I've ever known," she breathed, propping herself up a bit, now mindful of her weight on you.

Your eyes were still shut and you struggled to speak, but you managed to quip, "You remember that."

"Believe me, there's no one else for me." She kissed you tenderly again before standing up, carefully pulling out of you, not wanting to overstimulate you further.

"Babe." You called her attention before giving a short laugh. "I honestly don't know if I'm going to be able to walk out of here." The only reason you weren't collapsed on the floor was because Jessie's strong arms were still holding you up.

She smiled at you, half apologetic, half boastful. "Here," she said as gently guided you to the floor again. "Take a moment."

You felt her pull away slightly and heard her rummaging in the backpack before pushing something into your hand. You glanced down to see a water bottle. You snickered and let your eyes flutter shut once more. "You're such a dork. A sweet, thoughtful dork though." You took a few grateful swigs.

"I'm going to need a few fucking days, not moments," you went on, only half joking. She kissed your neck sweetly.

"We're leaving now anyway," she assured you. "Want me to carry you out?" She teased. You rolled your eyes.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure we'd both love that attention. I just need a minute." You continued to rest your head against the vanity cupboard. You peeked an eye open at the stifled laugh that came from Jessie. You saw her watching you smugly and trying desperately not to laugh. Heat rushed to your face and you gave her a playful shove. "Yeah, you're awfully proud of yourself, aren't you? And I don't have any kind of witty retort right now because I'm still a bit dazed...but give me time. I'll get you back."

She gave you a warm smile and kissed your shoulder, holding your gaze. "I know, love."

She gave you one more kiss and stood up. She removed the strap and got dressed before returning and offering you a hand.

"I hate to rush you, but it's only a matter of time until someone knocks on this door. I picked this one specifically because every other time we've had parties there never seems to be anyone in here, but still."

Jessie helped you get dressed and soon you had your hand on the door knob about to leave.

"How do I look? Like I just got fucked into oblivion and back?" You asked lightly. She nearly snorted a laugh.

"You look beautiful," she told you earnestly before kissing you. "And thank you for my birthday present. Best ever."

[sly-s-n0nfusion]

I hope the beach is ready for them

The surfboard is for Alfyn, Olberic can’t swim for shit

Bonus octobeach travelers ™️ doodles

1- Primrose with her hair down is pretty

2&3- broken humour

4- sunburnt Erhardt because I didn’t want to give him a beach umbrella

[futureplayboibunnie]

It’s canonically Miguel’s birthday soooo….a fluffy/cute/ lil steamy drabble? yes pls.

-

It was late, you and Miguel were both a little tipsy from the wine you plied each other with, but the night was starless, the fire was roaring, the city lights were gleaming and it was Miguel's birthday.

Miguel always hated his birthday. It was an unpleasant reminder of the years before him and the unforetold future ahead of him- all in all, it was an unsettling and borderline depressing experience, it was clear that everyone around him was viscerally aware of that. Even when he was in the warm blanketed safety of his own home, with the woman he wanted to spend his life with, it was still a struggle for him to not hate the predicament he put himself in. Your head rested on his lap while he was sat on the couch like a normal careless couple would do, your fingers stroked against him tenderly, normally, like it was second instinct but from this angle, you could tell his mind was wandering, twinges of apprehension and sullenness tweaked at his face so faintly, you almost didn't notice

“What's going on up there?” You said with a strained soft breath, your eyes flickered to his, the flames licking at the fireplace illuminated the deep crimson of his eyes. He looked so beautiful and you hated that he barely recognized it. Even now when he stroked your hand with his thumb, the familiar heat he ignited when you first wanted him crept its way back to you all this time.

“Nothing mi amor, let me just be here with you.”Miguel pursed his lips as he so obviously tried to dismiss the situation, he snapped his stare awayfrom yours. Your mind drew to a blank, unsure of what to even say after that but then you remembered, you didn'teven give him his gift yet. You shot up and Miguel instantly raised an eyebrow, watching you hurry away out of the room.

It was only a couple of seconds before you came back with a wrapped box with a cute little bow, a card, and a bouquet of roses.

“Oh my god.” Miguel said mildly but you could tell he was trying to stifle a giggle. He gave you a cute little defeated scoff and got up and came to you, slightly amused by this cute display you provided. He couldn't help but sigh dryly, he pondered you for a second, he had never felt so...appreciated. His heart fluttered in his chest at the realization. His eyes darted to the flowers and he chuckled and then looked back at you with a quiet playfulness.

“You bought me flowers.” He said flatly and smirked, you shoved the flowers in his face aggressive for him to smell them.

“You always buy me them, why can't I buy you some? What? Don't like 'em? Here sniff 'em.” You teased with a pretty smile and Miguel spluttered as he shoved them away

“Alright baby, I got it, I got it.” He protested playfully through short laughs, his smile was gorgeous and you were gawking at him like a lovesick fool.

“Open the card.” You say softly, handing him it, you flash him a flirty look, fluttering lashes sly smile and all. He quirked an eyebrow at yourlittle shift in tone and expression- he always hyper-analyzed you, and every single move you made, he he enjoyed it thoroughly. Even after all this time, he was still crazy about you, your tease, your ability to make him wonder. Miguel opened the card, intrigued by your boldness.

Happy birthday mi amor.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You are the most incredible man I've ever known. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to get to be with you, care for you, love you.

This is your day. I want this all to be about you. I'll let you do anything you want to me, anything, fuck me any way you like. I'm yours. All yours. Tonight and forever.

All my love

Miguel's gaze softened when he read the sweet words, you knew exactly what to say to make him melt in your hands, he glanced up at you and your cheeks colored with a heated blush, a suggestive smirk playing at your lips. You were acting coy as if you weren't aware of what you had written just for him. Even when you were trying to be sincerely romantic, you couldn't help but slip how much you loved his cock.

“Dirty girl.” He said with a crooked smile, biting his lip, gaping into that gorgeous face he's been fascinated by since he met you. “God I love you.” He muttered when he cradled your face in has hands.

“Open it.” You handed him his little wrapped box, your eyes brightened as he took it and unwrapped it.

It was a box. With a few things stuffed inside of it.

There were many cute knicknacks inside of it: a frame with you and Miguel absolutely drunk off your tits at a party that you can’t even remember, Peter took that amusingly hideous photo and he wouldn’t let either of you forget it so instead you thought to embrace it. Funnily enough, you bought him a nail file for his talons with his name engraved on it and you just shrugged with a smug face and said it was when he was in the need for self care. Miguel scoffed dryly, you were enjoying himself. You also got him a real gold ring with his spider emblem engraved on it. He felt very appreciated indeed.

But what really caught his attention was the less wholesome side of it.

You gave him your tiny lacy panties that you knew he loved.

Nipple clamps? Really? Oh my God.

And then he came across it, the multiple polaroids of you naked for the camera. All for him. All his. You looked heavenly.

“Hmmm.” He hummed apppreciatively. Completely enjoying what he was looking at, your body was made for him, you looked adorable.

“You like it?” You ask sincerely but you always had that stupid, smug smirk on your face.

“Of course I do.” He chuckled before grabbing you, letting the box drop to the floor and picking you up off the ground, holding you as he nuzzled into your neck, you yelped in surprise but that soon melted into a soft breath as you inhaled his scent.

Miguel settled you down, his hands still wrapped around your waist, your fingers found hospice in his hair, you tucked a few loose tufts behind his ear.

“I love you, you know that cariño?” He muttered. “I’m not good at stuff like this, I hate my birthday…but you make me feel worthy of it.” His voice was barely audible but you were so close you could hear every syllable.

“I love you too….” You said before planting a soft chaste kiss on his lips. Miguel’s hand went to your hair, your soft pecks turning into deep, heady kisses. “Let me take care of you.” Your breathing become shallow as his hand gripped the back of your neck.

“I want slow.” He slurred against your already wine soaked lips, you always taste so sweet for him, sometimes he wanted to rub you down in honey or something other and just spend his night licking it off you. He’d consider that a beautiful way to die happy. “Want it slow.”

“Take me to bed.” You whispered, your voice gentle and thick all at once. Miguel tiptoed you to your room, he wanted to rip off that smug smirk off of your lips. But in the meantime, he wanted to make love to your body.

[snailsrneat]

Y'all can we just have a honest conversation on the fact that in majority of his cards, Vil doesn't really look happy.

Like for example his birthday groovy,

He looks amused or pleased, not really happy. Same thing goes for his lab coat groovy, he looks more like amused by the situation than he is happy. His ceremonial robe groovy has him yelling at Jack, his dorm uniform groovy has him once again more amused than anything else, and his Halloween groovy is more sly and devious. I think you get the point none these cards really show him being happy.

I think there are only two that truly show when he is happy one of them being his second birhday card and his new years card.

I just think it's interesting cause I know in book 6, Vil briefly says something about "just being himself". Specifically during the kiss scene. I know that a lot of other people who played the games could probably tell, but I think the vast majority of times we see or interact with Vil in game he's masking. It makes sense as to why he would, when you're someone as famous and as rich as him I think it would be foolish to just go around trusting people all willy-nilly.

What especially gets me though is the thought that he's probably been doing it since childhood. He probably learned from his dad too. His father probably taught him to mask all the kind and sensitive parts of his personality out of a fear of that his son would get damaged by selfish and unkind people.

[redstarwriting]

happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

───────────────────────────────────

“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?” 

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right. 

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

───────────────────────────────────

[seren1tyhaze]

poison in my mind

PAIRING: idol!jisung x afab older stylist reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: he has been your poison for years - Jisung with his innocent looking face, steely gaze, and wicked tongue. you do your best to keep a professional relationship with him during your work as a stylist for NCT Dream but his calls of "Noona" on set continue to test your patience.

AUTHOR NOTE: A VERY belated happy birthday to Andy Park and a big thank you to SM for letting us have that Poison live performance at the end of the year. This has been half written ever since the Poison track video behind vlog went up a million years ago but fueled even more by the dance intro at MMA. His more recent lives may have also served as inspiration. I hope you all enjoy this very self indulgent fic made especially for all my friends who also love Jisung <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, idolverse, pet names (including Noona kink I'm so sorry)

PLAYLIST: Poison by NCT Dream, Quiet Down by NCT Dream, OK! by NCT U

dreaming 'bout you, dreaming 'bout you

~~ The set is buzzing with nervous energy in the dimly lit space, dark blue light cascading over the stage area dressed with large floral arrangements that almost make it look like the ocean floor. Renjun is talking to the camera filming their behind vlog footage and you look up from the shirt you are steaming when you hear his voice. 

“Dream will try for the sexy vibe for the first time,” with a sly smirk.

You can’t help but chuckle as the makeup artist next to you elbows your side and you tut at her, waving the steamer to quiet her. It wasn’t a secret that the Poison track video was going to be beloved by fans because of the concept and the way the members were styled. You had been tasked with pulling some of the key looks for the video, taking an opportunity to incorporate different textures like the metal grommets and fringe on the leather jacket Renjun currently was wearing. You watch proudly as he stretches his arms over his head in the center of the flowers, torso muscles rippling under the sheer mesh shirt.

You hadn’t been on staff for very long, a couple years of working under the main stylist under your belt. They had been hesitant to give you bigger opportunities due to your young age and lack of experience, but your boss saw that you had a great eye. It didn’t hurt that you were always the first one to volunteer for less than desirable tasks and always arrived early to shoots and stayed late.

“Sorry, this one’s a little too small, did you have others?” comes a voice behind you and you turn to see Mark, holding out one of the large metal rings you had laid out for him in his dressing room.

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” you reply, smiling softly at him before kneeling down to dig in your bag for the small pouch holding the extra accessories. He was always so polite to the staff, greeting everyone and even when he was clearly exhausted, doing as many takes as the director needed.

“This one might work better and it’s adjustable,” you reply, taking his hand and sliding the ring on his pointer finger. You squeeze his hand gently before he inspects the rings, holding it out in front of him.

“Noona,” comes a harsh and low voice suddenly, causing you to move your head to the side of Mark’s leather clad legs to see an annoyed looking Jisung with crossed arms, shirtless and barefoot.

“Jisung, where is your shirt?” Mark replies, half laughing as he turns to face him, scratching at the back of his neck.

Ignoring him, Jisung returns his gaze to you and glares at your crouched position on the floor in front of Mark. A curious Renjun walks up at this moment, peeling a tangerine and flicking narrowed eyes between the three of you. Mark shrugs at him before walking away, answering a message on his phone.

“You tailored the crotch of these pants wrong, it feels weird,” Jisung continues, voice even and tinged with frustration.

Your face flushes at this, dropping the pouch back in your bag and grabbing your pins, suddenly on your feet and in front of Jisung.

“How do you know it’s wrong?” you ask, knitting your brows together as you look up at him. 

He looks good and you know he knows it. Something has shifted in Jisung in the past year - especially since they returned from tour. He carries himself differently, with a different level of confidence and wears it well. Today is no different and the fact that he just barged onto set without a shirt on is evidence. His dark blue hair is styled perfectly, long strands dangling in his eyes and contrasting beautifully with his sharp jawline.

“Here, feel,” he tells you simply, pulling your hand to his crotch and you almost let yourself palm him through the tight denim until you snap back to reality and pull your arm back. His eyes hold no emotion, dark and still, long eyelashes blinking at you temptingly. His lips are soft and plump and you want nothing more than to close the distance between the two of you and taste the glossy lip mask.

And there it is, your poison, Park Jisung. When you had graduated early from your program a few years ago, you had been focused on your career and hadn’t spent much time dating. You had some people you went out on dates with every once and a while and had your fair share of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a long night out. But Jisung had caught you by surprise. Something about the way he was so forward and aggressive with you made your brain turn to mush around him. Your heartbeat would quicken, palms sweat, and filthy thoughts would swirl in your mind until you could indulge in them with your hand pressed between your thighs later that night.

A heavy sigh comes from Renjun, accompanied by a shake of his head, as he walks out a nearby door muttering something about not wanting to see Jisung’s dick.

You flush violently, grabbing at Jisung’s bicep harshly and pulling him to his dressing room, leaving the door propped open intentionally as you take the layered black tank off the hanger and hold it out to him.

“Please put the rest of your outfit on, I think they are going to be ready for you soon,” you sigh as soon as you’re alone, reaching for the box that holds the platform boots you were reusing from a shoot with Haechan a couple months prior.

You both move silently as he pulls the shirt over his head, staring at the long leather cords before lifting his head back up to you. You move behind him, reaching over his broad shoulders to pull the leather cords around his neck and then letting the ends dangle in front of his toned chest. You try to avoid brushing your hands against his bare shoulders as he steps into the boots and ignore that his ass brushes against your stomach when he bends down slightly to zip them up.

“I just don’t know about these pants, are they the right length?” he asks, tugging at the material at his thighs. His tone is whining and defiant, lighter than how he was in front of everyone, but still slightly combative. He knows you’re weak for this very tone, as he can usually get you to do whatever he wants if he just adds it into whatever he says.

You sigh and move around him, dropping to your knees at his feet, slapping his hand away from pulling at the fabric. You pull the pants leg out of his left boot, pulling lightly and examining the hemline. You’re about to correct him when you suddenly feel his hand soft on your hair.

“You look so good from this angle,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him from the floor.

Your lower lip is instantly caught in your teeth, sinking into the flesh deeply as you try to control your breathing, unable to stop yourself from blinking up at him. You feel drawn into his dark eyes and his hand in your hair is almost overwhelming.

He lets out a groan, tightening his fingertips on your scalp, exhaling audibly and clenching his other hand into a fist at his side.

“What am I going to do with you,” he tuts, dropping his hand to your chin and gripping it gently.

You rise from your knees, glancing at the open door just as Jaemin bounces by, screaming at something Haechan is doing. Suddenly aware of where you are, you step forward, adjusting the cords aimlessly.

“What happened to my sweet, innocent Jisung?” you whisper, staring at the soft skin of his collarbone and wishing you could press your lips against it forever.

“Don’t act surprised. You created this monster, Noona, dressing me in all these sexy outfits. How could you think I would stay your bright eyed baby Sungie forever?” he asks back, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear. His words are biting, even if they do hold some truth.

Memories of him dozing off on your shoulder during long bus rides and hastily helping him into heavy jackets and necklaces during quick changes on tour come flooding in, mixed with the heavy, lustful stares you feel on you when you wear a low cut shirt or on hot summer days in Thailand when you wore thin athletic shorts in the airport.

He had kissed your lips gently a year ago after many bottles of soju and when the rest of the members were preoccupied by endless rounds of karaoke. You had stopped him then, told him that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. Ever since that moment, he had made every effort to get you alone when he could, using every excuse under the sun, today’s outburst nothing new. You still remember how soft his lips felt on yours and the fire under your arm as he held you close after you rejected him.

Back on set, you’re packing up your bag again when you’re called over to check something on the computer from Jeno’s scenes. You give your feedback and suddenly your eyes are drawn up to where Jisung is filming, camera close to his face, light illuminating his beautiful features perfectly.

“Dreaming ‘bout you, dreaming ‘bout you,” echoes across the large soundstage and your heart is pounding in your chest as he plays with the cords at his neck, just as you had earlier, chests pressed up against each other in the dressing room. He makes eye contact with you briefly when the take ends and you look away quickly, embarrassed.

While you had been released to go for the day, you take your time packing the rest of your stuff, helping the makeup artists clean their station and even rearranging some chairs that barely needed adjustment. You watch the way he moves confidently, take after take, adjusting the jacket so his shoulders show boldly against the dark material. His fingers brush through the cords, pulling them up to his teeth at times before dropping them, leaving plump lips open before cracking a large smile at the reaction of the staff. In between takes he shakes his dark hair, casting his gaze down to the floor until someone asks him a question. You watch as he smiles and winks at the makeup artist powdering his cheek and you feel nervous energy stir in your stomach. You can’t bear to watch much more, so you slip out when he isn’t looking in your direction.

When you finally are home, feet pushed into fluffy slippers and sipping on steaming green tea you had just prepared, you peel the sheet mask off and rub the remaining serum into your cheeks and forehead. You are flipping through a magazine your coworker had given you on set, paying attention to the tabbed pages they had flagged for inspiration when your phone buzzes on the table next to you. A message from the head stylist fills your screen as you tap into it.

Jisung left his street shoes at set, did you take them home? He said he “needs them” for tomorrow. 

You sigh and go to the shoebox by your door to find his Nike sneakers tucked neatly, laces wrapped nicely. You quickly reply to your boss, saying you don’t mind bringing them to the dorm since you know the managers had a late night meeting tonight. Running a brush through your hair, you dot some perfume on your wrists and behind your ear before grabbing your keys.

You fiddle with the edge of your oversized sweater in the elevator as you climb the floors to his dorm, feeling a nervous pit grow in your stomach. Finally outside, you knock quickly before dropping it down to hold the box with both hands.

The door swings open and Jisung is standing tall in front of you, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair damp. A dark zip-up hoodie covers his chest and it’s unzipped just enough that you can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You can’t help but let your mind wander back to shirtless Jisung pulling your hand to his crotch earlier and wonder if he was just lounging in his room in the sweatpants. Or worse, just his boxers.

“Hi baby,” he slurs out, lips curving up at the edge into a mischievous smile as he props his arm up on the door, leaning down as if he might kiss you. His sweatshirt hikes up on his waist when he does this, revealing a large swath of skin.

You shove the box at him, pushing him back into the room with it, letting it drop into his hands. You fling your bag on the table near the door and step out of your shoes.

“Don’t hi baby me, Park Jisung. I know you left these there so you could see me tonight. Did it really take you multiple hours to realize you weren’t wearing the shoes you came in?” you reply with a huff, picking up a sealed water bottle on the kitchen counter and taking a long sip.

Sweat is pricking at your hairline and you are starting to regret not texting one of the assistant managers or drivers to come get the shoes instead.

Jisung chuckles and sets the shoebox on a chair, reaching out to take the water bottle from you and gulping down the rest.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he replies, leaving heavy emphasis on the pet name, stepping closer to you and wrapping strong arms around your waist, thumbs instantly finding the hem of your sweater and travelling across your lower back.

You can’t help how your body reacts to his touch, feeling your chest meet his, nipples hardening under the knit fabric now tugged down and exposing your cleavage. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes for the second time today.

“Come on, I’m catching up on our show,” he says softly, lips grazing across your cheek gently. You had been watching the same show for the past few months, texting each other during episodes here and there, and chatting about it whenever you saw each other. He had complained none of the other members would watch it with him and while you would never let him know this, you had lied and said you were also planning to watch it.

Against your better judgement, you let him guide you to his small room, where his large tv is paused on the latest episode of the space docuseries.

“Oh, I haven’t watched this one yet,” you admit, dropping down to sit at the edge of his bed.

He clicks to restart the episode and unzips the sweatshirt, moving to remove it and reveal his bare chest.

“Jisung,” you say sternly and he chuckles, zipping it back up halfway, and plopping down on the bed next to you. He pulls the hood up over his dark hair for good measure before propping himself up against the pillows he has leaned against the wall. You settle back, leaving some space between the two of you and pulling a hamster plushie into your lap to nervously fiddle with.

While your eyes had started to get heavy back at your apartment, you are now wired, your body coursing with electricity and hypersensitive to every movement from the man next to you. He reaches for his phone occasionally, letting out light chuckles at messages from Chenle and even daring to post a couple Bubble messages. You thank whatever higher power exists that your phone was still tucked in your bag at the door, so he didn’t see yours light up when he sent the message. It was a drunken guilty pleasure you had indulged in and ever since receiving the first message tailored with your name, you couldn’t stop yourself from renewing the subscription.

His legs keep brushing against yours when he readjusts his position on the bed and somehow has gotten so close that his shoulder is now brushing against yours. You try to shift away, but he only closes the distance again when you do so. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re having a difficult time focusing on the show.

Suddenly the screen is filled with bright colors as they depict beautiful graphics of what scientists imagine the birth of a star looks like and a gasp falls from your lips as you lean forward, eyes flickering across the screen to take in the beautiful scene.

“You’re so pretty when you nerd out over this stuff,” comes his low voice, suddenly close to your ear, hand resting in the middle of your back.

You lean back in reaction, trapping his arm between you and the pillow, turning slightly to face him.

“Coming from NASA’s number one stan, please,” you reply lightly, shoving the plushie at him playfully. You let a chuckle fall from your lips and shake your head lightly, causing your hair to cascade over your shoulders.

He grabs at it and throws it off the edge of the bed, hands suddenly tight on your hips and pulling you into his lap, possessively gripping your ass as you straddle his legs. 

Your lips drop open in surprise, both of you breathing heavy at the sudden movement. You feel your responsible self tapping your shoulder but finally decide to let the years of desire bubble to the surface and propel your lips to close the gap with his.

You move your lips across his gently, resisting the urge to push your tongue out immediately or bite down on his lower lip. He tightens his grip on you in response, pushing his crotch up to meet yours. You swear you can feel him through his pants which only makes you want him more.

He pulls away, taking your cheek in his other hand and looking between your eyes as if searching for some sort of silent answer to a silent question. You can almost see his own voice of reason forcing him to pause, if only for a moment.

“You ready to deal with the consequences of that monster you created, Noona?” he asks in a devastatingly low tone before moving his lips down to mouth at your chest, pushing the knit fabric to the side to bite at your shoulder.

A sigh falls from your lips as you let your head roll back, entire body on fire as he marks the skin at your neck, teeth sharp on your skin. You can’t help as your hands slide over the zipper of his hoodie and unzip it slowly, pushing the fabric down his shoulders to expose his toned chest. Running your hands over his hard muscles, you dig your fingernails gently, eliciting a deep groan from Jisung.

“Babyyy,” he sighs out, sliding his hand up to your throat and applying pressure there, pulling you forward to meet your lips again. The kiss is more urgent this time, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hand gripping you tighter as he continues.

You let your hands slide down his torso, running over his abs and sliding them to his back to pull yourself closer to him. Before you can pull yourself fully flush against his chest, you are being flipped over, head falling back into the pillowy surface.

“Are you sure about this,” you ask, voice wavering despite every intention you had to form a confident question. Your eyes are flicking between his dark ones, as they had many times before, but suddenly holding so much more meaning in this intimate space.

“Are you not?” he asks back, head cocking lightly to the side, thumbs never stopping the circles they are rubbing into your hip bones.

“That’s not an answer,” you quip back, grabbing onto his hands to force him to focus. Unfortunately for you, it did the exact opposite.

You pull your eyes away from his, looking at your hands now pressed up against each other against the comforter. Your hand looks tiny next to his, his fingers could almost wrap fully around the tops of yours and that makes your mind fuzzy. You pulse your fingers, stretching them along his, feeling the length of them and how hot they are to the touch.

“Noona,” he calls, not as harsh and biting as on set, but still drawing you back to reality quickly.

His voice finally softens as he sees your watery blinking eyes, overstimulation creeping up on you before you’ve done much more than make out. He drops his thumb down the side of your face, caressing the space between your ear lobe and jaw tenderly. You want to look away, you want to push up and capture his lips in yours, you want to pull that stupid hamster plushie over your face and hide your burning cheeks.

“You know, I want it, I like,” he states, as if that is a full sentence other than in the context of the song they were filming with all day. His lips turn up in a small, shy smile at the end, showing a glimpse of that quiet boy you’ve always known and your heart settles a little in your chest. You nod rapidly a few times, sinking your nails into the palm of his hand and letting your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are on yours again quickly and that wicked hand that was just caressing your skin is now tightening around your neck again, which forces you up into an arch on the bed, pressing your lower body against his hardening cock. His tongue feels hot and wet in your mouth and you can’t help the moans that are escaping every time you have to pull back for air.

He sits up, straddling either side of your legs, tugging at your shirt and you manage to sit halfway up on your elbows, almost tearing the delicate fabric of your sweater as you rip it off, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as Jisung’s mouth is suddenly latched onto your neck, dropping heated kisses down your collarbone.

He sees you struggling and simply presses a strong thumb to the clasp, letting the cotton fabric slide off your arms and he tosses it clear across the room. This draws your attention to the door, which you realize now is cracked and you pray to every higher power that Renjun isn’t home.

“Hey, eyes on me,” comes the low voice above you again and you’re drawn back in, tuning out the distractions around you. He seems more amused than annoyed, which you have to appreciate given how long you’ve both waited for this exact moment.

Jisung makes quick work of removing his pants and boxers, reaching for a condom from his nightstand as you push down your own sweats, pausing at the thin band of your underwear. He sees you, dropping the foil packet to the bed and dips his head down, teeth dragging the elastic quickly, causing you to jump and let out a giggle.

“SUNG!” you yell weakly, trying to push his dark blue locks away as he continues to drag the dampened fabric down your legs.

He somehow manages to do it pretty easily, without getting too caught up on your knees or thighs, only struggling once he’s at your ankles and ripping them off with his hand, letting them drop to the floor with your bra.

He simply shrugs at you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he smooths those huge hands over your thighs, kneading the flesh there, eyes transfixed on your naked body. Your whole body is on fire and you silently beg for him to get on with it, even as it looks like he is about to swallow you whole.

A creeping monster your in your brain tells you you should feel more self conscious with him seeing you like this, despite both being equally exposed, realizing how many times you’ve seen him half clothed or even less. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he reaches up, covering your breast easily with his hand, thumb teasing your nipple absently. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but hold your breath as pleasure begins to flood through your body. 

You beg your own gaze not to lower, not ready to see the size of him fully hard. You’ve unfortunately seen almost all the members’ dicks but usually in quick, embarrassed, accidental glimpses. Well, except for that one time Jaemin was literally helicopter swinging it around in the dressing room when you walked in with a tray of iced americanos. Both him and Jeno couldn’t speak to you for two weeks while Chenle continued to bring it up every chance he could, even mimicking the motion during sound check at their next stop.

You are startled at the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper, rolling it quickly on and leaning back down, face inches from yours as he cups the side of your face again. You instinctively nuzzle lightly into his hand at the contact, letting your eyes flutter shut as you draw your lips to his hand, smelling faintly of the lube from the condom. You kiss in between his thumb and forefinger lightly and before you know it, he’s slipping his thumb in between your spit covered lips, pad of his finger gently pressing against your tongue.

You gasp but drag your eyes lazily to meet his, knowing your own hunger is visible now not only in your gaze but also in the eager sucking of your lips.

He groans, taking the chance to push into you and you swear you see stars. Your eyes widen but pull his thumb further into your mouth, teeth grazing across the tip of his finger erratically as your hips buck up to pull him impossibly close.

Jisung’s eyes are fluttering shut, thumb dropping from your lips, now flushed red with teeth marks and slick with spit, sliding down to clutch your throat once again. Your own hand flies to your chest, groping at yourself, desperate for something to hold onto as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

He’s quiet, but with deep and passionate groans tumbling from his lips every once and a while. You watch as sweat begins to form at his hairline, perfect face beautiful in the dim light of his room, quiet music floating from his tv’s speakers as the episode is long forgotten and scrolling through the credits screen endlessly. Each noise that bubbles up from his chest equally soothes and paralyzes you, your own personal brand of poison seeping coldly through your veins. Your lips are perpetually hung open, mouth becoming so dry you can barely squeak out your own moans.

You feel your orgasm building suddenly after a particularly strong thrust and you swallow harshly, moving to speak to alert him. He doesn’t need any warning, reaching down to throw your leg over his shoulder and angle his lower body to perfectly hit that same spot over and over.

In seconds the poison is washing over you, lapping first at your feet like waves at the shore, nearly knocking you out as you float high above yourself, almost feeling like you’re having an out of body experience. Your chest is heaving as he slows his movements, as if he’s going to pull out. 

A confused look forms on your face, head cocking to the side as you grip his arm, shaking your head wildly. Your hair is sticking to the back of your neck and you feel too hot on his plush bedding, but that isn’t reason to stop.

“Wait…what about…” you ask, confused, knowing he hasn’t come. Your eyes flick to the door again, wondering if he’s heard something while you were swimming a galaxy of bliss post orgasm.

He smiles at you, sliding out slowly and disposing of the condom quickly. He walks back over and takes your hand, bringing you to rise on shaky legs, standing naked beside his bed as he takes both your cheeks in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

“I was thinking it would be better to continue what we started on set,” he purrs against you when he finishes ravaging your swollen lips.

A mischievous look forms in your eyes and you drop your hand to his stiff cock, giving it a few experimental pumps with the mix of lube and pre cum.

“Oh yeah?” is all you can reply, sinking slowly to your knees, still managing to tease him at this moment. You drop your hands to let them rest at your thighs, pressed together in an attempt to cool the burning heat still there.

He hisses out as soon as he can see you below him, bicep flexing as he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. His lids are heavy and all you can see are the whites of his eyes as they roll up in ecstasy.

You run your hands up your body, fingering the side of your neck and then tangling your fingers in your own hair seductively, never looking away from the man standing above you.

“Show me how good you can be for me, Noona,” he grunts out suddenly, gripping your chin way tighter than he had in the dressing room earlier. You grit your teeth but try to keep your face even as he tilts your head lightly, as if studying your face.

You gulp audibly and take him in your hands, finally faced with what you already knew was going to be stretching your cheeks as you were definitely going to struggle fitting him in your small mouth.

You tongue at his slit teasing it gently before sucking at the tip, letting it rest in your open mouth, eyes flicked up at him menacingly. You can tell from the look in Jisung’s eyes that he is dying to ram his cock down your throat but is trying so hard to let you set the pace.

Without any warning, you're sliding him further and further into your mouth, hands massaging his smooth calves to ground you. He’s getting louder now and one of his hands is playing in your hair, every once and a while gripping it tighter.

It only takes a few gentle thrusts till his voice becomes more strained and he’s tapping you on the head as a poor attempt of warning you he’s close. You resolve to let him spill into your mouth, but as soon as he comes the sudden movement causes most of the mess to land on your cheek and shoulder.

His loud exclamation of his pet name for you still ringing in the air, his hand loosens in your hair and you’re on your feet, hands settling on his broad chest, a hazy look of satisfaction on your face.

He seems mesmerised by you covered in his cum and draws a thumb up to that same spot between your ear and jaw, sliding it down and through the mess he made on your face. It’s as if everything’s moving in slow motion as your bottom lip drops open without a word and he slides his thumb into welcoming lips. You taste him, all of him, as he watches you suckle on the digit and blush form on your cheeks under the shine of your skin.

“Fucking filthy baby,” he whispers out, yanking you towards him as he sits on the edge of his bed and lifts you into his lap. 

You can feel him harden under you and feel yourself warm up as his cock brushes against your core. You grind down on his lap which is met by him only gripping your waist tighter and landing a light smack on your ass. You grin at this and lean forward to kiss him, pushing your tongue greedily into his mouth.

“Already wanting more?” he asks with a mild mocking tone when you pull back, breathless and red in the face. He’s fully groping your ass at this point, massaging your cheeks with his fingers and pressing his palms into the thick flesh there.

You nod aggressively as you grind down on his cock again, spreading your thighs a bit more for better leverage. You want nothing more than for him to slide his bare cock into you right here and let you ride him through multiple orgasms, your tits bouncing right at eye level as he groans into your mouth through open mouthed kisses.

He merely laughs, pulling you out of your fantasy and reaches awkwardly for another condom, hand firmly keeping you in place.

“As much as I want what you want right now baby, let’s make sure there’s no-“ he starts out, rolling the condom on with shaky hands.

“SUNG, PLEASE!” you yell, clasping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Even in the midst of it all, all the lustful years leading up to this moment, all the hidden glances and late night drunken thoughts, he is still your poison. Something that worms its way into your mind, into your heart. Normally, you wouldn’t even imagine being this close to someone without protection but somehow, Jisung does something to you that makes you want to be reckless. You want to be reckless with your heart, let it be swallowed whole by him. You want to throw your body on him, let him tear you down and degrade you and use you. You want to give him everything and every bit of love you can offer. You think you can see the two of you growing old together, sitting quietly in a park watching your grandchildren play together in the distance.

But you see, that’s the problem with poison. It gets in your veins, in your lungs, in your heart and slowly sweeps and finally, finally tears you down. You float high above yourself again, seeing stars as Jisung releases into the condom and his head falls against your chest. You are both quiet and unsure of what comes next. The poison of this night will wear off soon and reality will set in, leaving you only the memories of this night to return to in your dreams.

~~

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “please,” aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.”

(or aemond's first time with his handmaid).

warnings: explicit lang. a tiny bit of angst at the beginning. protective!aemond. p in v smut. slight breeding kink. spitting kink towards the end. fluff. all around good vibes bc aemond's in love and we all love that for him.

notes: happy birthday to me. pls be nice to me, i'm unfortunately entering my twenties today.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Aemond spends the better part of the chilly winter day searching for his handmaid.

You had been missing when he returned to his bedchamber at midday, wishing to eat his lunch in your company. Did she forget my first rule, by chance? Aemond thought to himself, holding the chalice to his lips. Perhaps…but he could not stomach another bite of his roasted meat, his mind too consumed with thoughts of you.

So he looks throughout the kitchen wing, and the library and Great Hall, until he passes by his mother and sister in the hallway.

But neither woman claims to have seen you, and he’s left twice as confused and frustrated and concerned as he continues to wander about the Red Keep like some lovesick and anxious fool.

“Ah, my prince,” Lord Larys Strong purrs as his steps falls alongside Aemond’s. “Perchance I could be of service. I overheard you are looking for your little handmaid.”

Aemond turns to look at him. “Yes,” he answers, his eyebrow raising, “-have you seen her?”

The lord’s smile is sly. “Several hours ago, actually. She was heading up to the servant quarters…” but his smile then drops, quickly replaced with a frown, “but she seemed to be in tears, if I’m to remember correctly. Poor child, she was an awful, trembling mess, never once looking up to meet my eyes when I greeted her.”

“She was crying?” Aemond cocks his head sideways, swallowing down the ire beginning to bubble inside his chest.

“Yes. It was rather grievous and sad,” and Clubfoot shakes his head dolefully. “A maiden like her deserves a smile on her face at all times, would you not agree, my prince?”

Aemond’s jaw clenches, and he glances to the stairs leading upwards to the servant quarters. Someone made you cry? His blood turns cold, and his fist balls up at his side. Remembering where he was, he gives the lord a curt nod. “Thank you, Lord Strong,” and leaves it at that, rushing up the stairway and down the hall, whilst hundreds of questions thronged in his head.

Who dared make you cry? You, who is rightfully his- his handmaid, his woman. You were supposed to remain safe and happy within his room, tucked away from ill-tempered bastards and envious tongues. If he could not protect you…

He turns the corner, huffing. He’d see whoever made you cry is punished, Aemond decides as he walks down the strip, passing by shut door after door, until he hears fainting sobbing. A sniffle, then, and a tiny hiccup that soon follows. That stops him in his steps. You. You. You, you, you…

“Love,” he whispers, knocking his knuckles on the door before slowly cracking it open. “Love, it’s me.” You twist to meet him in sullen silence, and his heart shatters at the sight. Your pretty doe-eyes are both red and teary, and your bottom lip quivers. It’s busted too, more scarlet now than pink. But it is the ugly bruise coloring your left cheek- large and hand-shaped, that causes his eye to widen.

“Who?” he spat, crossing the room to gather you in his arms, his voice raising. “Who’s done this to you?”

But you lower your eyes, and bury your face within his neck, hiding away from his gaze and questions. Aemond softens, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, pausing when you flinch. “My love, I need to know at once. This…this is a horrible injustice served upon you, one I know you did not deserve!”

You shake your head, face crumpling as another sob escapes you.

His eye narrows.

“Was it my brother?” Aemond demands. “Or a houseguard?”

“No,” you mumble, feeling ill, like your tummy is tied in a knot. “It was neither, my prince.”

“Well?”

You sigh. “It was one of the septas, a new one to the castle. I do not know her name,” you explain. “She caught me in your room and scolded me, saying how it was beyond disrespectful and ill-mannered of me to flaunter about your bedroom as if it was my own. She said…she said you would have my head for such, and when I tried to explain myself,” and you hiccup, feeling a wave of fresh tears, “-that I was your handmaid, she slapped me!”

“She said I would have your head? That I would kill you?”

You nod, wiping away the few fat tears streaking down your cheek, wincing at the slight sting from the bruised skin. “She said she would bring it up with the Queen herself, that there was no need for insolent little maids like me running around the castle. Oh, I’m so sorry, my prince. I’m terribly sorry. Please, please, please forgive me!”

But Aemond’s thumb brushes lightly across your plump lip, shushing you. “Those words should never fall from these lips, sweetling. They were not made for that.” You feel like crying again, this time from relief.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, my love. I couldn’t even imagine…” his voice trails off. How could this septa easily plant a seed of doubt within your mind, and make you think he would ever harm you? Or call for your death? As if you’re not the very air he breathes every day.

“You terrified me when I could not find you earlier, love.”

By now, you’re a lot calmer and breathing fine again, nestled within his embrace. Your cheek still stings but you’ll live. You lay your head against Aemond’s chest, listening to his faint heartbeat in his breast. Thump, thump, thump.

No more words are shared between the two of you, but his kiss on your temple says much more than anything could.

Soon, Aemond takes you back to his bedchamber, to his tub, and calls for several women to tend to you while he busies himself in burning the servant garb you were wearing today, until nothing is left but sooty ashes and singed cloths. He refuses to allow you to wear that shabby, tainted dress you were so wrongfully punished in. If not for you, then for himself. It eases his mind. And someday you’ll wear nothing but the finest and prettiest gowns, he swears, ones that are fit for no one but a princess.

He’ll have a talk with his mother too. His queen mother has a soft spot for his handmaid, he knows, and Helaena too. This will not go unseen and unpunished.

The prince returns when your bath is finished, and dismisses the women before carrying you off to his featherbed. You’re still quiet, hushed, lips pressed in a tight line while he dries your hair. “You do not need to do this, my prince,” you tell him softly, nervously lacing your fingers together. “I’m undeserving of such treatment, really. It should be I who does this for you.”

“Nonsense, sweetling.”

He’ll be your husband one day, and is merely practicing his husbandly duties, although he doesn’t actually say that piece aloud. It’s all a bit tricky right now, but he’s already decided he will not marry anyone who isn’t you.

Aemond bends to kiss your shoulder, ever so tenderly. You have four pretty birthmarks littering the skin, and he presses a sweet kiss atop all of them. He loves it. You’re so fucking gorgeous. “You’re mine,” he mumbles, nuzzling his forehead against your shoulder blade. “It’s my duty to care for you.”

“No, my prince, ‘tis my duty as your servant.”

He smiles up at you. “Ah, and I’m your protector, best to remember that, sweet girl.” And he leaves nothing more to be said, quickly standing you up in front of him, naked and breathing messily and too shy to meet his eye. Oh, but you’re too pretty for your own good, he tells himself. His fingertips gently trace along your hipbones while he leans to nuzzle his face into your tummy. Aemond then feels your soft hands finding his hair, fingers raking through as you sigh deeply.

“You smell good,” he whispers. “So damn good.”

You giggle. “Do I, my prince?”

Aemond hums, raising his face up to kiss your nipple- once, twice, thrice. He feels you suddenly tense against him, your breath catching in your throat. “Nice and warm and all mine,” he adds, blowing a puff of warm air over your breast that earns him a sweet little moan, one that sends blood rushing down to his cock. His arms circle around your waist, hands falling to knead your asscheeks.

“Let me make love to you.”

“My prince?” you ask, eyes widening as you recoil from your prince’s touch, your legs suddenly feeling weak like water.

Did you hear him right?

“Please,” Aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “Allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.” I see my future in your face. My children in your eyes. His hand cups your right breast, catching a hard nipple between two fingers. My sons at your breasts. His handmaid has come for him, to deliver to him everything he’s been so cruelly denied in this life. “Say yes,” he murmurs. “Let me finally claim you as mine own.” It is your blood I need, your blood on my sheets, and my seed in your belly, and your life and name as my own.

You close your eyes, yet still see your handsome prince grinning at you.

It’s wrong, you think. It’d be so wrong of us. I’d be banished.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

“Okay, my prince,” you say, with a bated breath. “Make love to me.”  

An hour later, the wind has risen to a sharp howl against the stone walls, and fat raindrops ping against the windowpane. A winter storm, but there is little to no need to worry about such.

You’re quite nicely warm and dry, and safe within your prince’s arms as he nudges your thighs open. He’s already been down there, spending a good half of the last hour feasting on your wet cunt. It was like he’d been fasting for weeks; he took little mercy on you.

“Open wide,” he mutters. “Good girl. Keep ‘em like that for me.”

You whimper. Your Prince Aemond is gorgeous, with silver hair that shines like fresh snow and pale, naked skin that is covered in faint scarring, undoubtedly from boyhood. You’ve never seen someone so beautiful. His arms are thickened with lean, lithe muscle as he holds himself above your body, one hand laced firmly in yours.

And he looks down at you with bright, violet eyes, with a look perhaps only a man gives his new bride on her wedding night.

It makes you squirm beneath him.

He slides his cock in slowly, hissing at your tightness. “FUCK.” His head dips down near yours, lips barely grazing your ear as he lets out a low moan. “Gods be fucking good, you feel so fucking good…wrapped around my fucking cock, at last,” he says, voice raspy. “Right where you belong.”

Aemond feels that he won’t last long. He’s back to the days of his boyhood, during his thirteenth nameday when Aegon took him to the whorehouse, and he felt a woman’s touch for the first time.

Except now he has the woman he wants- soft and submissive and cunny wet and ready for him- and it is his turn to teach and guide her.

“Ah, my brave girl,” he tells you, pausing to kiss your forehead, then your swollen, pink lips. “It hurts, I know. It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

And afterward, Aemond Targaryen’s watching as you shake and sob and fall to utter pieces, your beautiful face scrunched up in blissful pleasure as his thrusts soon quicken, and his hips snap into yours with such a harsh pace, it’s sure to leave dark bruises behind.

Your hands find his shoulders in a tight grip, in some desperate attempt to cling onto him whilst he fucks you good.

And, thankfully, it’s his name that tumbles out of your mouth, and not his stupid royal title. It follows your cries and moans and whimpers that echo throughout his bedchamber. To Aemond, it is poetic in some way. Several months back you were seated on his settee, singing, and now you’re buried within his sheets as he makes you a mother.

His loins ache for release, and he fondles your breast, toying with your nipple as he pounds you only harder. Aemond hopes to any god listening that the guards outside are listening in, and the serving girls too. He’s a prince of the realm- he means to claim all his rights. Let them all hear as he plows into his handmaid and stuffs her full of his sons.

Beneath him, you shudder and gasp- again and again- before arching your spine and flinging your arms around his neck. “AEMOND,” you scream, feeling a sudden tightness deep within your belly, almost like you’re only several seconds away from exploding into flames. Perhaps you are.

“Mercy on me, Aemond! Please!”

“Shhh,” Aemon coos, cradling your face as he fucks you through your orgasm. “I have you, pretty girl. You’re okay. Doesn’t this feel good? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, so- so good, Aemond…!”

He grins at your fucked-out face, and the little bit of drool pooling around the corner of your mouth, before lightly tapping his fingertip against your bottom lip. “Open up,” he commands, squeezing your cheeks together, when your mouth opens, he spits in it. “Now swallow- mmm, such a good girl, always doing what I say.”

Aemond chooses all his words carefully, loving the way his sweet little handmaid preens under all his given attention and praises, so prettily that he’s willing to discard all of his morals and seed her full of his future bastards. Silver-haired babes that would gurgle at him happily, and grow to carry on his name and legacy.   

For her, he thinks, leaning to kiss you again, feeling your cunt clamping down on him, she’s worth every damn thing and more.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67