#jumps out from behind a wall to kick or kiss you

[finishing-touch]

Heritor of Fire

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol.I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

vol. II

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

vol. II

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: 18+ daddy kink, sexual content, phone sex

"Whit do ye think, LT?"

Simon vaguely hears Johnny's voice. It's somewhere in the background, something he's not dialed into right at this moment, since they're not in an active situation.

For now.

Instead, they're all holed up in safe house with shitty mattresses, shitty couches, and thin walls crowded inside a concrete box. Simon's on his back, on the couch, flicking through his camera roll, picture after picture of you and the baby filling the screen. There are new ones, ones you've sent over the last three weeks, and when he fires off a text to let you know his phone is on for a little bit, you send a video back almost immediately.

"That the wee one?" Johnny says from over his shoulder, and Simon nods, clicking play.

"Okay Ry, let's show daddy," Orion's on his tummy in the living room, holding his head up, staring at you behind the phone. He's giggling a little, smiling, wriggling around, and you place one of his toys just out of his reach, to the left. "You can do it bub, come on. Daddy wants to see." There's more encouragement, Orion rocking back and forth on his belly and kicking his feet-

before rolling over completely onto his back.

"Good job bub! What a strong boy." You pull him into your arms, his back to your chest, legs up over yours, and turn the phone so the video shows both of you. "So, that's a thing." You smile, and kiss his head. "Think we'll have a crawler on our hands soon." Something sad flickers in your gaze and you chase it away. "Anyway, we uh... we miss you. Call tonight?" A knot forms in his throat, and he practically leaps off the couch, making for the back door. Johnny calls after him, but he pays it no mind.

>Can you take a call now?

>You just missed him, I'm so sorry. He's asleep :(

>That's okay. I want to talk to you.

>Okay, sure.

"Hello?" You're not quite whispering, but your voice is still soft, careful, and he closes his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. Can't believe he's rolling over." You stifle a small laugh.

"I know. He's going to be crawling soon, I can feel it. Keeps trying to push himself up with his arms and scoot his legs forward. It's cute. He looks like a seal." You sigh, and he gets lost in it, honey sweet spiderweb trapping him in the middle, tangling him up for the feast, your fangs already deeply embedded in his flesh.

That's what you are. Something under his skin. Something possessing him down to the marrow. A man who only takes orders from one other-

willing to say 'how high' if you would only say 'jump'.

He hears his promise every day, every night, ringing in his ears.

Johnny thinks he's flipped a switch somewhere. Gaz says he's more bloodthirsty than he's ever seen.

John just smiles at him, a knowing look in his eye, a mutual understanding.

He's going home, no matter what. If he has to kill every single soul he comes across, that's what happens.

He made a promise.

"Hope he waits." He tries to control the rough scrape of his voice, but it's still there.

"I'm sure he will." You're gentle in your reassurance, kind. His kitten.

"How's he doin' otherwise?"

"Good. Fussing has calmed down a bit, thank god, but I think he misses daddy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you pause, small intake of breath, a barely there gasp. "I miss him too." He takes a cursory look around, and then drops the tone of his voice.

"Y'miss daddy, sweet girl?" The two of you have been dancing around this, for the last week. Since landing at the safe house, he's been able to call almost every night, sometimes he catches Orion when he's up and sometimes he only catches you, and recently, you've been engaging him with sexually charged late night conversations that make him jerk his cock behind a locked door somewhere, and come into his own hand.

Feels like a waste. He wonders if you'd let him get you pregnant again.

He doesn't even know if you can have sex right now, to be honest. He knows you tore, badly. Knows you had stitches. Knows you're probably still nursing the wounds, physically and mentally.

That's okay. He'll wait. He'll wait as long as he needs to. For this. For you.

He doesn't know where the change came from either, but he's not complaining. Or questioning. He's indulging and dreaming and telling you to reach into your pajama pants to touch yourself for him while he's tossing off on the other end of the line.

If he had to guess, he'd say the distance has given you some sort of courage, some sort of emboldenment to feel it out, gain comfortability.

The killing makes him extra rank, fills him with ardor for you, for his life now. He's always felt purpose, devotion, to his job, the 141, but now, there's a higher altar to lay himself at, a higher calling.

Getting a ring on your finger, for one.

"Are you in bed mama?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Gonna play with your pussy for me?"

"Oh god." You groan, but it's breathy, wild on the other end of the line, a whole world away.

"Tell daddy what you're doing, honey." He's rock hard, so much it aches, but he's not going to fulfill the burning need right now. He wants to be focused on you. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Does it feel nice?" You whine. "Rubbing your pretty little clit f'me, making it feel good?”

"Oh my god- yeah."

"Daddy's so proud of you, sweetheart. Taking such good care of Orion. Taking good care of yourself, making yourself cum since he can't be there to do it for you." You moan, unintelligible, nectarous melody on the wind. "I wish I was there. I think about the night we made our baby all the time, how you looked spread out on your bed, taking all my cum like a good girl."

"Oh, oh-"

"Took my cock so pretty, mama. Did so good, fit me like a glove." You're panting, tiny, bright whines slipping free, and he knows you're close. "Don't stop. Let me hear you." He orders, slipping a palm over the swollen mass of his cock.

"Fuck, daddy-"

"Keep going honey, come on." He can nearly hear your teeth grinding.

"I'm cumming, oh- daddy, I'm, I'm-" There's a shuffle, a high pitched gasp, and then you go silent, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Good job, mama."

He's sour by the end of week four. Muscles tight from the agony of being away, awful visions, nightmares, rotting the frontside of his brain when he closes his eyes.

The balaclava is heavy with blood now, everyday. Red stains white, fetid and curdled, trying to strain through his teeth.

They've moved from the safe house. The phone calls are only a dream. He turns his phone on for five minutes every other day, desperate to download the photos you're sending, only to get one out of the ten. Can't text you back.

At night, he stands outside with his chin tilted up, orientating himself with the skies, searching for Orion in the cosmic chaos. It takes time, too long, but eventually he spots it, south west in the sky, glittering alongside the moon. His stars. His moon.

John tries to temper him. "You'll have to get better at this, if you're planning to stay, Simon. It won't get easier, but you can ease the ache."

It's never been a question about staying, he's served the 141 for far too long to give it up now. The want is incredibly selfish, but he doesn't consider himself the other kind of man, the one who would take a desk job or sacrifice his duty. His life's work, essentially.

He's not a good man. But he's yours. He won't have it any other way.

Kyle's got a girl at home now, he tells Simon. Maybe we should introduce them, ya know LT? Give em someone to lean on, when we're gone. A brilliant idea, if he's ever heard one. Though he's not surprised. Gaz is the top of his class in everything.

He and Johnny speed run through the last part of the op, raining hell down upon everyone in his path, and he finally sees that crazy glint in Soap's eyes, the one that's been missing this entire time.

"Was fun, LT." He slurs the night before exfil, glass of whiskey lax in his hand. "Almost sad to be goin' home."

Not too long ago, he might agree. But now that he's staring down the barrel of five and a half too long weeks, he can't wait for it to be over.

>Hey

>Hey omg, I've been worried.

>All's good. On our way to base now. Gonna shower here, change. Alright if I come over after?

>Yes.

He’s a livewire stepping off the bird. Three paces behind Gaz, he’s trying to type out a text to you, hardly paying attention, spreading his stride to close the gap between him and the showers.

“Hey darling.” Gaz is wrapping someone up in his arms, pretty little thing with dimples, Simon barely glances up-

And then nearly trips over his boots, tongue tied to see you standing behind Kyle’s new girl, sundress swinging at your thighs, Orion babbling away on your hip.

His bag drops.

He sprints.

“Ah!” You shriek as he tugs you into him, lifting you and the baby with an arm under the plush of your ass. “Simon, oh my god-“ you curl forward, free hand gripping his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to yours.

“Missed you mama.” Your top teeth bite into your bottom lip, bashful and sweet. “You too, bub.” You kiss him again, longer this time, ignoring the whooping from Johnny in the background.

“Welcome home.”

[pasukiyo]

I WANT YOUR VIDEO

college baseball player!leon x f!reader word count: 3,836 warnings: sex tape, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex with seemingly creampie, hint of corruption kink, leon's kind of an fboy if you squint, brief spanking synopsis: you've just gotten a brand new video camera and leon intends to use it properly...

 “Shit, shit, shit!”

 She curses through gritted teeth as she repeatedly jabs her finger against the record button, sliding her hand through the handle on the side of the small device, hastily bringing the viewfinder to her right eye. She quickly finds Leon where he stands in his ready position at third base just in time, as the batter swings and hits a ground ball that heads straight for him. 

 She gasps and her breath hitches, and she holds it in her throat as the scene seems to unravel in slow motion. Leon scoops the ball into his glove and shuffles into his throwing motion, her camcorder follows the ball as it soars through the air towards the first baseman and into his glove. 

 The runner only hits first base a second after the ball hits the glove. 

 Leon’s won the game. 

 She moves the viewfinder away from her eye to throw both hands in the air, her cheer emitting more as a shrill scream as the bleachers erupt into an uproar of applause. She watches Leon as his face splits into a grin, jumping in the air and pumping his fist in the air as his teammates crowd around him, banging their fists on his back, their palms on the top of his head. 

 She laughs and aims the camera back down to them, watching through the viewfinder as Leon disappears behind a wall of cheering baseball players. The wall crumbles only for a moment as two men dump the contents of a water cooler over Leon’s head, his dark blonde hair flattening against his forehead and beads of water drip down his face as he lifts his head and hollers. 

 People begin to make their way down from the stands and towards the field, which she takes as her cue to cut the recording to make her own way down to the dugout. She does her best to slither her way past the sea of bodies before her and she rolls onto the tips of her toes, searching for Leon between heads. She huffs, pursing her lips as she decides to just wait for him to find her until she feels a pair of hands on her waist and she shrieks as she’s lifted up into the air. 

 Someone hollers behind her and she kicks out with her feet, squirming to try and get a glimpse over her shoulder. 

 “Leon!” She whines as she’s finally set onto the ground and spun around, a hand on the small of her back drawing her into his chest. A mixture of water and sweat drops from Leon Kennedy’s forehead to the tip of her nose and she wrinkles it, reaching up with her free hand to wipe it away. “Gross. You’re all sticky and sweaty.”

 In a sea of dark blue, there seems to be a reflection of a star, one she’s become all too familiar with. She narrows her eyes at the mischievous gleam in his eyes as he scrunches his nose, nudging her forehead with his. 

 “Don’t give me that,” he whispers, drawing his mouth to hers. “You know you love it,” he says against her lips and she rolls her eyes, locking her arms around his neck. “You wish, Leon Kennedy,” she mutters back, unable to help the curving of her lips as Leon practically swallows them with his, groaning into her mouth. 

 The sheer force of Leon’s kiss nearly makes her drop the camera and after only a fleeting moment, she pulls away, hyper aware of the fact that they were most definitely not alone. 

 “You almost made me drop my brand new camera,” she complains, unraveling her arms from around his neck to fuss with her camera, willing the blood in her cheeks to cool down. Leon moans against the crown of her head, pressing a kiss to her skin.

 “Wouldn’t want that,” he murmurs, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Their eyes meet again and her bottom lip quivers against his fingers because suddenly she knows what that roguish glint in his eyes earlier means. He leans in closer until their noses almost touch, “haven’t even gotten to put it to good use yet.”

 

They barely made it through the door of Leon’s dorm before he was already tearing her shirt off. 

 “Leon!” She moans as his kisses trail down her lips and to that delicate patch of skin on her neck that always has her knees wobbling. Her hands find his shoulders and fists a handful of his fresh, clean shirt as he backpedals towards his bedroom, kicking a foot behind him to open the door. He tugs her inside and kicks it back closed behind her, his teeth marking her neck, his forefinger lifting the strap of her bag away from her shoulder. 

 However, before he can absentmindedly toss it to the floor, he blinks, pulling away from her altogether. Her skin is warm and her vision has begun to blur but she blinks throughout, her brows knit as she watches him sift through the contents of her bag. 

 “What are you doing?” She pants and she watches as he finally fishes out what he’d been looking for. “A-ha!” He grins, holding up her brand new video camera. He begins trying to navigate all the different buttons and her spine stiffens at the sight— somehow, in her lust-drunken haze, she’d forgotten all about Leon’s intentions for tonight. 

 She’s not sure if the idea either turns her on more or makes her want to vomit. 

 Either way, there’s an ache between her legs and she swallows, trying to resist the urge to press her thighs together to quell it. 

 “Leon, you’re not seriously…?” She trails off as he finally finds the record button, pressing down on it, sliding his hand through the strap on the side, and holding the camcorder up to face her. She freezes when she realizes she’s being recorded and draws her brows together. “Leon!”

 She lunges, reaching for the camera but he backs away and she can see his toothy, little grin peeking out from the side of the folded-out screen. With the camera aimed at her face, reaches out to cup her cheek, drawing her in for another kiss. 

 “What? Isn’t this what cameras are used for?” He murmurs against her lips and she rolls her eyes, peeking towards the camera from corners of her vision. Leon’s tongue swirls her mouth and she hums into his kiss, already feeling her opposition begin to fade. She pulls away just enough to whisper, “you’re a menace, Leon Kennedy.”

 Her eyes flutter open to find he’s already staring, drawing her further into that dark, lustrous ocean of his that never fails to make liquid of her insides. His breath looms over her face like rolling smoke and she’s sinking with her head below his surface. Her gaze drops to his lips as they curve into a roguish, crooked grin. 

 “And you love it,” he mutters before her lips are enveloped with his again. She moans into his mouth as she cups either side of his face, bringing him in even closer to her orbit. 

 It's primal, the way he kisses her and she matches with equal fervor, fingers gripping locks of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard enough to make him groan into her mouth. His hand not preoccupied with the camcorder finds her hip, palming the flesh through her little denim shorts, grounding his bulge into her front. She mewls at the delicious friction as a flame kindles at her core and she pulls away, chest heaving with the weight of her breaths. 

 Leon watches through the viewfinder of the camera as she sinks to her knees before him, fingers hooking over the hem of his sweats. His entire body reacts when his cock springs free from his boxers as they, along with his pants, pool at his ankles. He watches through the little fold-out screen as she blinks up at him, as if she’s a saint, as if she’s nothing short of innocent. 

 She has to know what she’s doing. Leon still remembers that day a few months back in the batting cage, remembers the nervous, stuttering mess of a girl she was then. 

 It was back when she was just a silly girl with a silly little crush— she didn’t ever truly expect anything to come from it. She’d had little to no experience with sex or relationships for that matter, so she learned to keep her fantasies private, her feelings locked away inside a vault. 

 Or so she thought. 

 Until Leon stopped her after chemistry one day to ask for help. Everyone knew she was top of the class, and he’d seen the way she looked at him, sneaking glances when she thought he wouldn’t notice. But to find that she’d been writing his name in the very notebook she lent him?

 He knew he had to have her. 

 And now he does, and now he’s got her on her knees before him, fist wrapped around his cock with a camera practically in her face. It was no secret that she’d changed over the course of the past few months they’d been together, and Leon took great pride in having done the honors of breaking the good girl. 

 Now she was his good girl, conditioned to suck cock like her life depended on it, and fuck, he could come just from that thought alone. 

“Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath as he watches her lick a long stripe from his sack, up his length, all the way to his tip through the viewfinder. She stares at him— or rather, the camcorder— through her lashes, even as she parts her lips wide enough to take in just the head, the tip of her tongue circling around the slit at the top. Leon’s breath stutters in his chest and he gasps, a gravelly “oh” slipping from his lips.

“Spit on it for me,” he rasps and she complies, gathering saliva on the tip of her tongue, spewing it onto the head. Her fist pumps up and down, coating the entire length with her spit and it’s pornographic, the way Leon throws his head back with a moan. 

 “The whole thing?” She asks, absentmindedly pumping her fist from the base of his dick to just below the head, tilting her head and blinking up at him as if she wasn’t trying to wring his release out of him. He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to control himself, snaking his hand not holding the camera around to the back of her head, taking a fistful of her hair between his fingers. 

 “You’re a fuckin’ minx, you know that?” He practically growls and her lips curve against the head of his cock, just before she dips her chin. 

 “You love it,” she uses his own words against him and then her lips part to wrap around him and oh, he’s already overcome with bliss. He has to pray somewhere in the back of his mind that the camcorder is still focused on her because he lolls his head backwards, squeezing his eyelids closed as she slowly takes him into her mouth. 

 He can feel every inch of him being drawn between her lips, all the way until he feels his tip brush the back of her throat and he can feel the way it tightens around him. 

 A filthy, rather embarrassing noise sounds from her efforts and her cheeks warm but Leon doesn’t care, if anything, it only turns him on more. She lifts her head up until just the tip is in her mouth and Leon grants her this one moment to gasp for breath before he’s guiding her back down his length, panting as every single inch of his cock sheaths inside her throat. 

 “Fuck!” He groans, peering back down at her through the camcorder’s screen. He can see her hand raise to wrap around his base just below it and she squeezes, pumping while she swirls her tongue against his tip, bobbing her head up and down as much of the length as she can take. 

 “Shit, that’s it,” he groans, watching as she takes him deeper, her nose against the little, coarse hairs around his base. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

 She whines around him and comes up for air, lips glistening with spit, streams of tears spilling from over the side of her lids. She blinks back the water in her eyes as she gasps for breath and Leon, with his fingers still tangled in her hair, tug her back down into his cock. There’s a knot building in his sack that’s making him start to see white, his release so close he can practically taste it. 

 He almost loses himself in his bliss before he comes to his senses, pulling her mouth off of his cock by the grip in her hair, his cock twitching and slit crying with precum. He pants, cursing beneath his breath as she rocks back on her heels, a string of spit hanging from her bottom lip that she wipes away with the back of her hand. 

 It’s all so filthy and provocative yet so damn erotic. It seems fitting now that they were recording— this is exactly the type of shit you see in the porn videos. 

 She blinks up at him from her spot on the floor and he leans down, kissing her just so he can taste her, humming at the mixture of saliva and precum in her mouth. He pulls away, a bridge of spit stringing between their lips, and turns, stepping out of his boxers and sweats before walking towards his dresser. 

 She eyes him curiously, still panting as she watches him place the camcorder down on the top of his dresser, adjusting the position until he’s certain the lens faces the bed. Blood bites her cheeks and lava oozes at her apex as Leon makes his back towards her, tugging his shirt over his head during the journey. 

 “Off,” his voice drips with authority and he gestures with his chin towards her clothes. His shirt falls to the floor and he’s left naked, save for the silver chain that dangles just above his chest and she swallows at the sight before her, pressing her thighs together as she rises from her place on the ground. 

 Their gazes meet and lock as she grabs the bottom of her shirt— the one she always wears to his games that has his name and number on the back— and Leon greedily takes in the sight before him as she pulls the material over her head. Her denim shorts are the next to go and he, admittedly, watches her breasts over the top of her bra as she bends over to step out of her bottoms, tossing them aside. 

 She’s left in her underwear and her eyes boldly meet his once again, her lids heavy against them, a refulgent white flame in the backdrops of her pupils. Her hands reach around to her back to unclasp her bra and she watches as Leon eyes the way the straps slip down her shoulders, the length of her arms until her breasts are finally on full display. His breath hitches as the lace falls down to the floor and she hooks her fingers tauntingly around the hem of her panties, lifting it up and sliding her fingers back and forth of the expanse of them before at last, she pulls them down her legs until they’re both standing before each other, nude and burning like two stars in supernova. 

 She makes her way back towards Leon, wrapping her hands around the back of his head, drawing herself in until they were close, yet not close enough. 

 “What’s next?” She asks, a corner of her mouth curved in a smirk and Leon’s eyes narrow, the center of his stormy sea expanding until nearly his entire iris is veiled by shadow. 

 “You’ve had your fun,” he says before pushing her towards the bed. She lands with a huff on her stomach and her brows draw together as she peers at him from over her shoulder. “Now I wanna see you on all fours.”

 Again, her core aches at the mere fact of how dominant he is and she can feel her arousal as it drips down her slit as she complies, lifting herself up until she’s on her knees and elbows. It’s a rather embarrassing position, if not risqué, at the least. Knowing she’s being recorded in this position only further makes her skin burn, as well as it makes insides melt, hot magma oozing straight down to her center. 

 The bed dips behind her and she mewls as Leon’s palm slams down onto one side of her ass with a loud smack, the sting deliciously lingering on her flesh. The nearness of him behind her makes her bones rattle and spine erupt in shivers as he runs his palm up and down the expanse of her back. She can feel the head of his cock against her ass, teasing her, taunting her. 

 “Leon…” she whimpers, wiggling her hips backwards in hopes of some sort of friction. Another slap against the other side of her ass makes her body quake and she yelps, balling her fists against the sheets. She catches a glimpse of him over her shoulder as he takes his cock in one hand, slowly pumping up and down his length, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

 “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He purrs, reaching forward to trace the line of her jaw with his forefinger. He hunches over her body to press a soft kiss to the side of her mouth and she hums, feeling herself turn into a ball of malleable putty in the palm of his hands. 

 “Yeah?” She says and he chuckles softly, nodding, his nose against her cheek. “Yeah. So, so pretty,” he whispers and she hums again as he pulls away from her face, palm once again soothing over her back. His right hand rests on the left side of her ass and for a moment, it’s peaceful, for a moment, it’s quiet. 

 Then Leon bucks his hips forward and with one thrust, she’s full to the brim. Her lips part to make way for a loud gasp that fully permeates his bedroom and lingers, balling her fists so hard against the sheets, she could feel her nails digging into her palms. 

 “And so, so damn tempting,” he grunts as he pulls back his hips just to piston them back into her again. “A fuckin’ vixen is what you are.”

 Bolts of ecstasy half her ability to make words as Leon sets his pace, his thrusts hard, forceful and fast. It’s truly pornographic— again, making it all too fitting that they’re being recorded— the way he fucks her. He’s like an animal and all this energy has been pent up inside of him for so long, too long. You would have no idea he just played a nearly three hour long baseball game. 

 He’s on a high— from making the last out of the game to being so lucky to have a girl like her on his arm— and he’s pouring every single ounce of that energy into her, into each and every single one of his thrusts. She has to dig her nails into the sheets to keep her body from being driven too far up the bed away from him. 

 His hands find her hips and he uses them as leverage to fuck into her harder, deeper. The sound of their skin slapping together permeates the bedroom, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and her toes curl as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits that spongy spot deep inside of her deliciously. Over and over and over and over again does he find that spot and it’s sooner rather than later that she feels herself burning, that kindling that had once been a small flame at the pit of her belly now fully blossomed into a wildfire, wreaking havoc across her ovaries. 

 “Le… Lee… Leon!” She cries, feeling tears brim and sting the outline of her lids as he mutters curses underneath his breath, making it his sole mission to utterly destroy her with his cock. “Slow down or I’m gonna… I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck!”

 She hears him laugh behind her, bending over her body— all whilst maintaining his speed— to press a tender kiss to the center of her spine. 

 “That’s kind of the point,” he says against her back, lips curved into an impish grin against her skin. She can feel drool fall from her mouth down to her chin and she prays that the camcorder can’t pick this embarrassing detail up as she clenches around him, his dick having coaxed her so close to her peak. 

 Leon lifts away from her back and barks a curse when she tightens around him, his hips stuttering. “Gonna take me down with you, huh?” He growls, bucking his hips harder and harder and harder into her until she begins to crack like the shell of an egg, her orgasm spilling through the jagged lines like the yolk. 

 She succumbs to blinding white, hot bliss and she shudders, Leon leaning over her to wrap his arms around her waist as he, too, is overtaken by the sheer power of his release. “Leon!” She moans, either of their noises echoing off the four walls of his room and she hopes somewhere in the back of her mind that his roommate, Carlos, is not home to further be exposed to their coition. 

 Leon’s hips finally still and he simply holds her through either of their orgasms, his chest flush to her back. She can feel his dick twitch inside of her and she mewls, feeling his fingers brush through her hair, his lips finding her ear. 

 He presses a kiss to the shell before he whispers, “okay?”

 It’s hard to speak through her panting but she manages to nod, her eyelids feeling heavy as they fall over her eyes. “Okay,” she replies and she simply lays there on her stomach, Leon on her back. The room smells of sex and perspiration but at its core, it smells like Leon, like home. His warmth is like the fire in a hearth on a cold winter's day and she hums as fatigue washes over her, lulling her towards a temporary slumber. 

 Leon groans from behind her and she feels him lift off of the bed, albeit reluctantly. Her nose wrinkles in displeasure but she does not lift her head, does not even open her eyes. She’s simply too tired, but before she drifts away to sleep, she hears a string of curses being said beneath Leon’s breath. 

 “Shit, shit, shit! How the fuck do you turn this thing off?”

a/n; teehee i'm so happy so many of you enjoyed the first baseball player leon fic, so here's a treat! wrote this up while freezing my tits off in the bathtub 😘

📹 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the entire world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

@glovesandhorror

@angelstargel

@illsksm

@echo1200

@d3adp00ls

@woahhajime

@leonkennedygvrl

@elliewilliamshotwife

@altissia-09

@danigirls-missions

@cherrylipscrystalskies1

[sttoru]

✸ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔: satoru unexpectedly comes back home to his family after being gone on a week long business trip. .

word count. 1.6k +

tags. girl dad!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, tiny bits of angst, overall sfw. reader gets called 'mama; pretty, sweetheart, baby'. satoru being a good husband and dad. your daughter is around 2-3 years old.

the apartment is silent, something you aren’t used to. normally, you would not catch a break from the loud voices ringing in your ears twenty-four seven. it’d either be your husband’s or your daughter’s. or if they’ve teamed up to bother you, it’d be both. it’s been so long since the three of you were together. way too long.

satoru has been gone on this business trip for a week now. seven days without him is seven days without your other half. you feel empty for some reason, even if you have your lovely child who makes every day much better. you just can’t help but worry about your husband.

“mama, look!” your toddler calls out from the living room. you blink and find yourself back in the kitchen, instead of deep within your thoughts. you faintly smile at the adorable voice of your daughter. it reminds you that you’re not alone.

you walk into the living space and look around before spotting the toddler at the window walls. she’s pulled the curtains to the side so she could admire the scenery outside of your cozy apartment. you watch her excitedly jump up and down—like she’s discovered a big treasure.

“it’s raining!” she continues, running towards you and dragging you along to watch the raindrops fall onto the windows. you nod at her observation and pick her up. you kiss her cheek and gaze into her blue eyes, “yeah, it is! you’re such a smart girl.”

“yaayy! smart!” she giggles and nuzzles her cheek against yours. you wholeheartedly accept the affection with a warm laugh of your own. you both watch as it pours—from your perspective, the people below you look like small creatures, running around to get inside. you get lost in thought again at the sight.

you can’t help but wonder if it’s also raining where Satoru is. you hope he’s taken shelter by now, even though you know his infinity could easily block any rain from wetting his clothes. you don’t know what it is, but you’re undoubtedly worried sick about your husband whenever he is gone for too long.

“mama!” your toddler gasps and tugs at your clothes. your dissociating ends for a second because of the child in your arms. you absentmindedly hum and pat her back, letting her know that you’ve heard her. you’re too focused on your own thoughts and the gloomy scenery outside to hear anything else.

“mama! mama!” your daughter continues. this time, she kicks her legs, desperately seeking your attention. you kiss her cheek in response, still zoning out. she squeaks and giggles due to something. when she squirms too much in your embrace, you figure that it’s because she wants to be let down.

you crouch and allow your daughter back on her feet. you’re finally able to notice how she keeps staring at something behind you. she’s grinning from ear to ear, her tiny hand still tugging at your sleeve like she’s trying to notify you of something. her other hand points at the space behind you, “papa!”

you freeze. you don’t know whether you should turn around or not. is she joking around with you?

you tilt your head, patting your daughter’s head tenderly, her white hair as soft and fluffy as the one who’s she called out to, “papa? papa’s working, baby.”

a familiar chuckle softly reverberates through the room. one so smooth and nice to the ears; one that you immediately recognize as your lover’s. you nearly snap your neck by how fast you turn your head.

it must be a dream, you conclude. you can’t believe what you’re seeing. there he is, the man you’ve been praying to see. he stands there so casually, as if he’s planned this all, his hands in his pockets.

your husband smiles at you and your daughter. he’s more than happy to be back home as well.

“well, hello to you too, sweetheart,” satoru snickers, seeing your shocked expression. you’re frozen in place and have no clue how to react. you did not expect to see him any time soon nor did you even hear him come back in the first place.

“papa!” your daughter can’t hold her excitement anymore and jumps into her father’s arms. satoru happily accepts her hug and peppers her face with kisses, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.

he twirls her around before squeezing her tiny body to his chest, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “mm. i missed you so much, baby girl. so so so much.”

you’re left somewhat processing the entire thing. you watch as satoru interacts with your toddler, tightly hugging her until she’s playfully whining about the lack of air.

he gives her a firm peck on her forehead and eventually puts her down, ruffling her hair affectionately, “you promised to be a good little girl for mama while i was gone, right?”

“yeah! been a rweaaally good girl f’ mama,” she nods repeatedly and clings onto satoru’s leg, awaiting praise for her good behavior. the white-haired man lets out a low chuckle and pinches her chubby cheeks in a gentle manner, “i knew my little girl wouldn’t let me down, heheh.”

you try to articulate some words, but nothing comes out. you take a step forward once you’re ready to face reality. your bottom lip trembles as the all the experienced emotions overwhelm you.

satoru instantly notices and smiles, opening his arms to welcome you into his embrace. which you immediately do.

“aww, there’s my pretty wife,” satoru sighs in relief, pleased to have the love of his life back in his strong arms. it’s like all the stress he’s felt throughout his seven-day long mission has evaporated. the same goes for the weary state his body was in before setting foot in your shared space.

the tears stream down your cheeks. they’re happy tears—tears of relief. all your worries are eliminated as your lover is now safe and sound before you.

satoru allows you to cry it out, not minding his clothes getting wet. your precious tears wetting his uniform is much better than the pouring rain doing so.

“it’s okay. ‘m here now,” satoru coos. he kisses the tip of your ear, moving down to your earlobe before showing your neck the same affection. his romantic touch is one you’ve missed greatly.

his big hands rub up and down your back, his lips trying to distract you from the tears. he moves to cup your face and leaves a warm kiss on your forehead, “you’re so precious. you did so well while i was gone, baby.”

satoru knows it must’ve been tough to take care of your daughter alone, whilst simultaneously taking care of all chores around the house. you’re the strongest woman he knows. his eyes sparkle with love as he wipes the tears from your cheeks, “there, there. .”

you sniff and cup satoru’s face this time, touching him like you’re making sure that he’s indeed real. You look around for any possible scratches but find none. luckily.

your voice is shaky as you speak up for the first time in a while, “welcome back, honey. i missed you s’much.”

your husband bites his lip at the sound of your voice cracks. your looks are captivating, even more when you’re so emotional. your beautiful eyes that glimmer with tears lure him in without fail. he’s longed for this. to see you and hold you again, without relying on some pictures on his phone.

he can’t hold back the urges within him any longer.

“c’mere,” satoru hisses, an unexpected switch in his tone. he suddenly pulls your body flush against his, his head lowering so his lips could crash down onto yours. your eyes widen at the abrupt gesture, but you quickly close them to fully enjoy the sensations. you hold him close to you while you return the kiss.

after a couple seconds, you both pull away, out of breath by the sudden moment of pure passion. the sorcerer grins and hugs you again. satoru rests his chin on top of your head and allows you to catch your breath, “i’m glad to be back.”

the soft pitter patter of the rain against the glass of the windows continues in the background. it’s a peaceful moment—two lovers reunited in their safe space. this is all you’ve wished for.

the sounds of wrappers falling to the floor and someone rummaging through plastic bags put an end to the sweet atmosphere between satoru and you. you both look to the side at the same time, only to find out that your daughter’s already been snacking on the goodies that satoru bought back from his trip.

the two of you burst out into laughter at the sight of the toddler munching on some chocolate, her cheeks as well as her hands being a complete mess. you were far too engrossed in your shared affection to notice that the little child has snuck off to inspect the bags on the coffee table.

“yummy!” your daughter exclaims once she notices that both her parents have caught her red handed. she reaches her arm out towards you, a half eaten piece of chocolate in her dirty little hand, “mama try.”

“no no, thank you. it’s all yours,” you giggle and shake your head. she’s too cute to scold and you can easily guess that satoru seems to agree with that statement. he walks over to the little girl and boops her nose lovingly.

“she’s got a sweet tooth jus’ like her papa, hm?” satoru comments light-heartedly. he grabs a nearby tissue and starts to clean the area around her cheeks, hoping to lessen the damage that’s already been done.

he truly missed this. the comfortable feeling of belonging somewhere.

“jus’ like papa!” your daughter innocently repeats after satoru as he cleans her up, causing the both of you to laugh again.

you’re happy to have your family back together.

[sunniepoo]

your roommate never knew when to keep his hands off, even when you were asleep

cw: dubcon, somno, dark!jj

jj knew what he was doing was disgusting, he knew that it was pervy and creepy and gross and every name under the sun for just straight up wrong. it’s not that he didn’t feel bad but the pleasure and satisfaction he gained every night, jerking off into his hand with the image of you naked, with the pellets of water trickling down you wore greater than his conscious

when you’d moved in,a couple months ago, there was a silent reminder in his head to not scare you away or push any boundaries but he couldn’t help but have a slight inkling that you wanted him to prey, you wanted him to push and play to his limit. the way you would leave your panties laying out on the floor, it was like you wanted him to pick them up and fist them around his dick, inevitably cumming into them

or how you’d shower with the door open just enough so he could see the outline of your tits through the foggy shower door. he knew he sounded like a perv when ranting on about it to the brunette boy, hands flailing about, mumbling about how ‘she’s gotta be doing it on purpose…i mean - wh-why else” earning a questionable stare from john b who scoffs out about him being a full on classic creep

it was so so conflicting, he knew he shouldn’t - you were probably just being naive, your usual sweet mindset blurring the sultryness within your actions but he couldn’t help but use your actions as justification for what he was doing. you would’ve said something by now id it bothered you, right?

but it wasn’t always weird,there were quiet domestic moments aswell, like tonight.

the loud rumble of thunder was enough to make you squeal eliciting a soft laugh from the blonde in front of you, who continued to stuff food in his mouth “jayyy” the slight tease in your whine was impossible to miss as the word left your mouth “lets sleep together tonight” you ask, eyes opened wide and focused on him, leaving him to struggle to understand the meaning behind the question

“what” the blonde in front deadpans, ears in disbelief of what he’s hearing - mind already rushing to the stickiest of ickys

“just hate storms and m’gonna not be able to sleep” you respond and as the words fall from your mouth, his figure visibly relaxes as soon as he hears the nonchalance in your voice in your words - god he has to get his head out of the gutter!

“right-right…uhh yeah- i mean i don’t mind” he rambles, struggling to hide the rising pink in his cheek aswell as the rising boner in his pants. it was going to be so so so hard to behave well when you’d be right next to him, your pretty pussy just a couple inches away, how was he supposed to resist himself

“thanks jay’ make sure not to kick” you giggle before pressing a light kiss to the side of his cheek, continuing to walk off towards the bathroom. he couldn’t describe the feeling in his stomach as he watched you, excitement? guilt? shame? whatever it was, it had to be pushed down until the late night dawned upon the both of you - when he’ll find out how bad he can really be

the sight of you softly snoring in his bed, arms tucked beneath your head as you curled away from the wall, would have been cute if it wasn’t for the raging boner that poked through his boxers. you’d hit the sack quite early leaving jj and his twisted mind alone, jerking off in the shower of all the lewd fantasies stored in his head.

he wouldn’t. he couldn’t. that’s what the blonde repeated in his head as he rest beside you, keeping some distance between the two of you, trying to close his eyes and sleep - hoping his mind could clear before the morning. his large figure slowly relaxed, slowly drifting to sleep. and that’s when he felt it your leg carelessly shifting underneath the covers, grazing against his dick, making it jump.

he was convinced. you were doing it on purpose, you had to be. but when he saw your limp body, pressed against the bed, dead to the world around you, he couldn’t help but groan. what if you were truly so naive that all your actions were done out of pure thoughtlessness, he’d be disgusting- you’d probably never want to speak to him again

but it was getting impossibly hard to ignore your foot dancing around his already hard cock leading a soft groan from him. the call of your name from him falls on deaf ears as you continue to sleep, not aware of the turmoil you’re causing him. ‘god m’going to hell” he whispers to himself as he shifts closer, forehead hovering over yours

he wished he could blame it on something like he’d drunk to much or that he was high out of his mind, but he wasn’t - the only drug that consumed him was the presence of you, clouding his every thought and action. the long strand of blonde that kissed his forehead now grazed against yours as his fingers traced down the length of your body, dipping between your legs, rubbing against your clothed mound.

the heat between your legs was enough to warm him on the unseasonably cold night, thumb stroking against your clit causing you to shift. he panicked for a second, taking your stirring as a sign of you waking up but he was wrong. you were moving because you liked it - he watched as your mouth parted softly, a soft whimper filling the air as you continued to squirm beneath him

it didn’t take long before he slipped your panties off, throwing them to some corner of the room - careful not to wake you. he watched as you writhed at the feel of the cool air breezing against your bare pussy, fingers having a mind of their own as they pushed into you. god you were so tight, he could feel the ache in his pants as he continued to thrust his finger into you. he couldn’t help but watch your eyebrows raise, mouth opening to let out an inaudible moan “m’sorry so so sorry” he heaved out, before adding another finger, watching you hiss at the intrusion.

you were making a mess on his hand and between your legs with each thrust of his and all he could think was how good you were taking it, wondering what noises you’d be making if you were awake - would you grab at his wrist and make him slow down if he went too fast? would you reach down and rub your aching clit?would you whine at him to stop?

he felt a sudden urge, he wanted to kiss you. he wanted to feel your lips against his as he curled his fingers that were wedged deep inside you. he moved even closer, dipping his head down, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips as he thrust his fingers harshly in you making you all putty in his arms

it was rough the way he pulled out, fingers resting against your thighs but he was desperate, his cock had been painfully poking against the fabric of his shorts waiting for some sort of stimulation. it was bad, it was so so bad but what was worse was that he stopped caring,it was a need to feel your gummy walls sucking you in, to watch your face contort into a mixture of pain and pleasure as he slams into you

you’d understand right? i mean you had to with the way you’d tortured him for so long, how you’d walk around wearing next to nothing or how you’d rub up against him. he remembers wanting nothing more than to bend you over the nearest surface and dick you down like the good little whore you were but how could he, you weren’t a whore - far from it actually, you were his sweet little angel that he wanted to corrupt, the little lamb that the big bad wolf wanted to bite into

he spent every minute trying to savour this moment, slowly pulling of his boxers throwing them next to your panties - making a mental note to take them later. he wished he could’ve been gentle and soft and sweet but he didn’t have it in him that night, he wanted you to feel the ache he’s been feeling.

the whine that left your mouth was loud as the blonde slammed into you, stilling with his movement - soaking in the feel of your velvety walls wrapped around him that left him wanting to paint your insides with his cum.shocked at your still state, deep sleeper he thought- who knows maybe he can have more fun

for a minute he stayed stilled feeling every pulse or clench of your little pussy, he was disgusting! but he didn’t care, what he cared about was how your face would look like when you cum? how you’d look like when you wake and see the pool of white between your legs? that was enough for him to begin drilling his cock into you, the once silent room being filled with his low groans and the sound of skin slapping

“so good f’me… huh?” he breathed out “wanna cum so-fuck so-deep inside you….fill you with all my babies” his pace didn’t falter as you’d tossed against him, body shocked by the harsh and sudden intrusion. his right hand travelled down from the side of your hips to your bright red clit, pinching it softly causing your brows to furrow

“sorry baby…. just needed to do that” he laughed out, head falling down to the dip in your neck, breathing against the skin “fuck-” the blonde could feel his high coming close, he fastens his face getting ready to empty himself inside of you “fuck fuck fuck m’coming” the blonde curses, eyes screwed tightly as he spurts out a fat load inside you, moaning with every slight movement. he watched as you spasmed around him, your own high being provoked by his - he couldn’t miss the way your back slightly arched, he’d bet you were in heaven right now - well atleast he was

following a few sloppy thrusts, he flops against your sleeping body, looking up to see your face, god you looked so innocent! you hadn’t even known the way he’d violated you yet and something in him ached for you to find out, for you to wake up to the feel of his morning wood, throbbing inside of you and feel the sticky pool of cum that formed beneath you. and he couldn’t help but thrust deeper inside of you, chin resting against your head - slowly feeling his eyes close, he’ll deal with the aftermath in the morning but for now he wanted to sleep wedged inside you, sweaty bodies pressed together

[frantic-fiction]

Payback 18+

(Pic: northernolddragon) I cropped it

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: Astarion goes too far and embarrasses Tav in front of the party. She decides she wants a bit of revenge.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, slight Dom!reader, slight Sub!Astarion, Dom/Sub switch (kinda?), delayed orgasm, Oral sex m and f receiving, PnV sex,

Word Count: 3.8k (I'm a gremlin who just can't help myself)

Masterlist

That fucking asshole. How dare he? You slammed open the door, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding smack. Locking it behind you, you kick off your shoes, stumble over your feet, and rip off your dress. You begin throwing off every other accessory and remaining article of clothing until you are completely bare and breathing heavily. You sigh, frustrated, and pull on a pair of trousers and an old, tattered shirt. Anger pulses through your veins, and embarrassment burns deep in your chest. Falling onto the bed, you drop your face into your hands and pull at the ends of your hair.

Astarion went too far this time. Usually, you loved his sassy comments and sarcastic humor. You were typically the first to laugh when he jests and pokes fun at you and the other party members. But how can you laugh when his lighthearted jokes turn to dirty secrets? When he's telling your friends out in a crowded pub intimate details from your sex life.

You should have known it was a bad idea to have Astarion feed from you while there was liquor coursing through your veins. But he was curious and very convincing. It didn't take long before you were offering him your wrist. Neither of you really thought the alcohol would affect Astarion, and you didn't expect Astarion to be such a fucking ass when intoxicated. 

He teased you and shared private moments all night, and you wanted to hate him. Moreover, you wanted him to be sorry. Beg for forgiveness and mean it. But Astarion is a prideful man and has a stupidly hard time giving out apologies. He's improved, especially with you, but you don't want a simple sorry. You want payback, a little revenge, or as close to it as possible.

A sudden, devilish thought crosses your mind, and you know how you're going to get just that. Quickly, you jump up and move to set your plan in motion. You clean up the room, erasing your angry tantrum from before, and strip down naked once more. You dig around Astarion's pack and pull out his white-laced shirt. And then you wait for him. 

It takes just under an hour of waiting. You filled the time with one of the books you picked up the other day. But just as you go to flip another page, the door handle twists, catching on the lock. You’re on your feet and at the door before Astarion can attempt to unlock it. The palm of your hand hits the door hard, and you're holding it close. 

"Why should I let you in?" Your tone lace with venom.

"Darling," Astarion sighs, a tinge of exhaustion undertoned in his words, his voice no longer holding that annoying drunken slur. "Must we do this?"

"You weren't very nice to me tonight." You lean your back against the door, crossing your arms. “I have half a mind to make you bunk with someone else.”

His head falls against the wood, pushing lightly against your back. "If you let me in, I promise I'll make it up to you." It felt like he was breathing these words sinfully into your ear. 

You flip the lock and open the door. "Say you're sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" He purrs, his eyes darkening and pressing into your space. "I much prefer physical apologies."

Astarion pulls you into a lustful kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt and massaging your breast. He bites your lip, and when you gasp, he licks into your mouth. He traces his fingers over your hip bone and pulls you close.

"Wearing my shirt with no underwear?” He nips your bottom lip, and you shudder. “I don't think you're as mad as you say, my sweet."

You smile sharply and pull him further into the room. Reclaiming his lips, you start pulling at his shirt, exposing Astarion's pale skin. He's kissing down your neck, tugging your shirt aside to lather his tongue over your shoulder. His fangs tease your skin, and you moan. Trailing your fingertips down his stomach, you undo his pants, tugging it down. Astarion steps out, leaving him in a pair of tight briefs, an outline of his swelling cock evident against the straining fabric. He pushes the trousers to the side, and the two of you fall onto the bed in a heap.

"Who says this is for you?" you say coyly, forcing his head to the side and biting hard at his throat.

"Hells,"

"Maybe I was going to take care of myself tonight." You kiss his cheek "Take a bath, have some wine," you bring your lips to his ear. "Touch myself." You tease his ear between your teeth. His grip tightens on you. "I don't need you to please myself, Astarion."

Astarion groans deep in his chest and runs his hands up your thighs to the swell of your ass. He grinds you down onto his half-hard cock. "But here we are." 

"But here we are." You mimic, smiling smugly, relishing how Astarion so confidently believes he holds all the cards.

He kisses you again, and you let him. You could easily get lost in the wet dance of lips and the delicious silent promises of more to come. Give in and just let Astarion consume you. But no, you are far more excited with what's to come. 

"I want to taste you." You moan needily- dragging your teeth down his chest. Maybe you were playing it up, but it seemed to work. You circle his nipple with your tongue, and Astarion lets out a deep groan, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

"Don't let me stop you, my love," 

You tug his cock out and squeeze him softly; he's stiff and aching and instinctually bucks up into your palm. Licking over his nipple, you begin to suck. A trickle of precum starts to fall, and you collect it, beginning to stroke slowly. Kissing down his stomach, you reach his pelvic bone. You look up, meeting Astarion's intense gaze. His mouth is agape, his chest moving in harsh breaths. One hand is reaching up, gripping the headboard in an ironclad grip. You softly press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. 

"Fuck," He hissed through clenched teeth, "Gods, I love your mouth." 

Urged on by his response, you take more of him in his mouth and begin to move at a slow pace sucking and bobbing your head. Astarion's hands grabbed your shoulder and softly stroked up your neck to the back of your head. He didn't force the pace, just gently held your head, rubbing his thumb softly behind your ear.

"That's it, Darling. So good to me."

Heat rushes through your body, the praise going straight to your core. You hum and begin to bob your head faster. Sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks, you trail your hand down his tensed thigh and cup his balls. You roll him in your hands, and Astarion moans, thrusting into your mouth. You gag and grab his hips, holding him down with your weight.

He's close. His eyes are unfocused, trying desperately to stay on you; he's letting out breathless gasps and attempting to buck up into your mouth, seeking more for you to give. That's when you pull off of him entirely and squeeze his cock tightly.

Astarion lets out a needy whine, sits up, and instantly meets your eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

"Apologize!"

"What?" Astarion says, dazed and still lost in the loss of stimulation. Then it dawns on him, and he realizes what's happening. "Naughty little-"

You give him one stroke, and Astarion chokes. "Apologize for embarrassing me tonight."

"My sweet, I was intoxicated; it's not really my fault." He's trying to give off an air of indifference, but you know him better. Astarion was moments away from crumbling.

"I was just as drunk, and I wasn't telling everyone about our sex life." You lick over the tip and begin to stoke him slowly. "Apologize, and I might just let you fuck me."

He moans deeply, thrusting up into your fist. "I-ng shit, I'm sorry, you were upset with my words tonight."

"Nope, try again." You stop completely and meet his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"Please! My love, I'm sorry." His voice cracks. He's practically whimpering; he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down to keep a semblance of control. 

"That's closer, but what you said still hurts, so I want you to make it up to me." You move up his body and kiss him. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes! Anything!" He sounds so desperate. You don't think you've ever felt so aroused. You clench instinctually against nothing, seeking friction that's not there.

"I want you to beg. I want you to beg to fuck me, handsome" You scratch your nails teasingly down the broad of Astarion's chest. "I want everyone to hear how - how did you put it, love? 'desperate and needy' you are for me."

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes blackened from arousal, and a smile stretches his lips."I like this side of you, Darling."

 Astarion captures your lips, and you're on your back before you can comprehend what's happening. "My sweet, please, I need to touch you." His voice is louder than it needs to be. 

"Do you?" You purr, hooking your leg over his hip. 

"Yes!" He moans out, rutting against your dripping cunt. "Please, I need you!"

You brush your hand through Astarions hair and pull him down for a kiss. "Then be a good boy and touch me." 

Astarion doesn't need to be told twice to tug up your shirt. You let him pull it off and throw it across the room. He starts to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. A rough hand grabs your breast, and nimble fingers pinch your nipple. You sigh and thrust your hips up when Astarions mouth finds your other nipple and rolls the peak softly between his teeth before sucking hard.

"Astarion," you moan, caressing any available skin of his you can reach. "So good to me."

He grunts at the praise and moves down your stomach, leaving kitten licks and sharp nips in his wake. His hands are trailing down your sides and stop to grip your hips in a firm hold. He pulls you down the bed, and you let out a little yelp. Astarion meets your half-lidded gaze and bites at the fat of your thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood that bead up to the surface. 

"The sweetest treat," Astarion moans, throwing your leg over his shoulder, trailing his nose down your thigh to the spot you want him most. But I'm still famished. I need more, please."

"Don't let me stop you, handsome." You smirked, mimicking his previous words. Your breath was catching, and you felt just as desperate as Astarion.

You let out a gargled mewl when Astarion trails one long agonizing lick up the length of your cunt. He never breaks eye contact; you bite your lip and grip one of your breasts, fisting the other into the bedsheet.

Astarion consumes you like he'll never be able to again. Desperate, messy, and with no care for the thinness of the walls. You gasp and instinctually try to clamp your legs close. His cold hands hold your hips apart, only allowing pathetic gyrates of your hips. The room is filled with filthy wet slurps and needy moans as Astarion tears you apart.

"Faster, Star. Don't you dare stop," you demand, grinding against his face, shivering when his pointed nose teases your clit. "Such a good boy."

His moan quakes through your cunt, and you throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back slightly. Astarion's fingers push into you and match the ragged pace of his mouth. Your hand finds his soft curls again and holds him in place, pulling gently at the roots. Astarion could break away anytime, but he seems to like it because you feel him grind down against the bed. 

"No, no, pretty boy." You tsk, pulling his hair harsher. He grunts against you, sucking harder at your clit. "You don't get to come until you’re forgiven."

Astarion pulls away from your clit, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers are still pumping into you. "You cruel women." He practically whines breathlessly.

"You're- shit- you're making up for your naughty behavior, remember?" The coil is tightening in your stomach, your body hot, and your breath shaky. "Now be good and make me come."

He smiles wickedly and resumes his ministrations. He curls his fingers up and presses against the spot that has you gasping in silent cries. His mouth finds your clit again and laps his tongue against it. He's relentless, and your legs are trembling. The pleasure is building, the flame licking through your veins. 

"m close, Star,"

He doesn't stop or voice any cheeky comments he would typically make. He just pumps his fingers faster and sucks and lavishes his tongue harder against your cunt. You feel your body tightening, and you grab for anything to hold on to; one hand is still in Astarion's hair, but your other hand grabs his shoulder, digging your nails into his flesh. Astarion scrapes his fangs playfully against your clit, and that's all you need to fall apart. 

You're moaning and screaming his name and mumbling incoherent praises into the air. Black spots seem to cloud over your vision, and all your muscles tighten at once. Astarion drags you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and moving to soft kitten licks. It takes you a moment to return to yourself, and you are out of breath and covered in sweat. Looking down, you see Astarion. He's staring at you, licking his lips, collecting every drop of you. His face is full of affection and untenable arousal.

"Am I forgiven?"

You surge forward and tackle him into an uncoordinated kiss. You maneuver him around until his back is against the headboard, and you are seated comfortably in his lap. Your tongue tangled with his, the tangy sweetness of your release mingling in the dance. Pulling back, you catch his lip tugging playfully.

"Hmm… I don't know," You smirk, grabbing his neglected cock and giving it a few languid strokes. 

"Darling, please!" He begs, head falling back, exposing his neck to your greedy mouth. 

You press your mouth to the hollow of his throat and suck until you're sure there will be a noticeable mark tomorrow. "I guess you have been such a good boy." Circling your thumb over his tip, you swipe his cock through your folds, coating him in your arousal. 

"Yes, I've been so good." His voice chokes, and he clenches his jaw, desperately trying to seek more friction. Hells, he was so incredibly sexy like this.

"And I think a good boy deserves a reward. Wouldn't you agree, Star?" The rush you feel at his desperation, his neediness for you and only you, has your confidence surging. 

"Yes! Please!"

You line him up with your hole and sit down painfully slow. Two groans of pleasure join together in the room as you seat yourself to the hilt. Astarion grabs your hips in a death grip, releasing an almost painful hiss through his teeth. For a moment, you don't move; feel the stretch and the completeness he gives you. Meeting his eyes, you place your hands on his shoulders and raise on your haunches. You pull up almost off him completely before lowering at the same brutally slow pace.

"Gods, you're so tight." Astarion groans, head falling against your arm. 

He uses the grip on your hips to help set a steady pace that has both of you dissolve into a moaning, blubbering mess. You clench around him and run your hand up his neck to the back of his head, pulling him to your chest. Astarion is quick to resume lavishing your breast with messy kisses, surely littering you with bites and bruises that will linger for days to come. 

You would have loved to drag this out. Punish Astarion for hours until he was nothing but a mumbling, blushing pussy-drunk mess. But you were growing impatient, and the delicious feeling of Astarion's cock filling you was clouding your more devious thoughts. Grinding your hips down hard onto his cock had Astarion gasping into your chest. 

You cupped his jaw and captured his mouth before whispering seductively into his ear. "You've been forgiven. Now I want you to fuck me hard."

A deep groan rumbled through Astarion's chest, and he did just that. You're suddenly on your back, and his tongue is in your mouth. The slow pace was thrown out the window to a brutal pounding that tore the breath from your lungs.

"A-astarion, fuck” You roll your hips to match his pace. 

You're not going to last much longer; you don't think you've ever been more aroused, and seeing how pent-up Astarion is, having been teased along for too long. You know he's just as close. You grab his hand and pull it down your body to where you want it most. He grunts huskily in your ear and rubs harshly at your bundle of nerves. Throwing one of your legs over Astarion's hip, you adjust your body, and his thrusts find a new angle that presses against that beautiful spot inside of you. 

Astarion’s other hand, can’t seem to stay still, moving up and down your body, trying to pay equal attention to all of your soft skin. He’s squeezing your hip, tickling your side, cupping your breast, and moving back down to repeat all over again. He’s peppering kisses over your forehead and cheeks, biting your kiss-swollen lips, running his nose along yours. It’s overwhelming and not enough, but it is always with him. Astarion moves to your neck and sucks at his favorite spot, the place he feeds most frequently from, silently begging for a taste. 

"Mhm," you nod, words no longer forming on your tongue. 

Astarion's fangs pierce your skin, and the familiar icy cold floods your veins. You cry out as he greedily drinks from your body. Your blood seems to turn Astarion feral. He grabs your other leg to join the other in a link behind his back. Astarion grinds you into the mattress, brutally pumping in and out of you. All your body can do is wrap your arms around his neck, smoothing your hands over his body, and hold on. The only sounds that echo in the darkroom are the slick, obscene sounds of skin sliding against skin and needy moans and desperate whimpers. 

You can't tell if you're lightheaded because of the pleasure Astarion is giving you or the blood that he's consuming from your neck. It's probably both, but right now, you only care that he keeps going because that lovely burning heat is returning and boiling in your stomach. 

"I'm so close," you whimper.

This has Astarion finally pulling away from your neck. He looks deeply into your eyes, his pace never faltering. There's a trickle of your blood running down his chin, and you reach up to catch it. You push your thumb into his mouth, and without breaking your gaze, Astarion licks it clean. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours above your head. His hand somehow seems to move faster against your clit, and you are moments away from coming undone. On the ledge but seemingly hanging by your fingertips.

"S-so am I, darling." He manages to stutter out, and you pull him down for a kiss. It is desperate and needy, and the taste of your blood, sharp and metallic, mingles with his spit. "Come for me, love; let me feel you."

Those words, always commanded with such affection, had an immediate effect. You clench around him like a vice, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. You sigh his name into his mouth and cup his face with your spare hand as if the moment you come down from this high Astarion might no longer be real. 

Astarion's pace falters, and he clumsily thrusts. Once, twice, three more times before burying deep into your cunt and coming hard with a deep groan. While you're still amid your ecstasy, you are still mesmerized by Astarion coming undone before you. The way his jaw clicks shut and he squeezes his eyes closed. The tightening of his hand on your body, gripping hard enough to bruise, not that you minded. The stuttering minute juts of his hips as he rides out the last of his orgasm. And finally, watching Astarion's body turn to jelly, bones and muscles collapsing under his weight as he falls onto you, head finding your chest.

You run your hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. Astarion purrs softly and kisses your chest, running delicate fingers up your side. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Astarion rolls off of you and moves from the bed. You whine at the loss of fullness but make no other protest. A tiredness has settled deep in your bones; you don't think you could move if you wanted to. 

Thankfully, Astarion was quick to return. In his hands was a cup of water and a wet cloth. Smiling softly, you take the glass from him and take a long gulp. Handing it back, he places it on the nightstand and rejoins you in bed. Astarion delicately cleans you off, kissing your neck when you wince from oversensitivity. After that was taken care of, he discards the used cloth and pulls you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head and tightening his hold on you. You hum softly and nuzzle into his chest. 

"I am sorry," he says, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. You glance up to meet his gaze, and he pushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you, my love. I didn't mean to." 

You give him a tender smile, "Thank you, Star," you kiss the chest just above his heart and whisper, lips brushing against his skin. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Next Day: You giggle over your glass of juice, watching a very disgruntled Astarion from across the room. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were sharp. His bare forearms crossed over his chest. He was slouched down in his chair, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current situation.

Gale was sitting in front of the vampire, a dusty tome placed on the table between him. You could barely hear the wizard's words as he vainly tried to teach Astarion a simple silencing spell. Gale was trying to help, given the very vocal display Astarion gave last night. And you couldn’t be more pleased at Astarion’s predicament. 

Astarion's ears twitch and his head snap in your direction to give you a pointed glare. He's only given more of your laughter in response.

Fine I'll admit it, I like a needy Astarion, sue me. But you got to agree that drunk Astarion would be a fucking menace.

Anyways let me know what ya thought. Talking with you guys is a highlight of my day.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr

Want to be added? DM me.

[tojisun]

simon (ghost) riley x fem bimbo!reader

!! smut - minors dni; cunnilingus; genital piercing (christina piercing); hinted age gap (30s v 20s); simon’s pov

: this is based on oddy’s brainworm of bimbo!reader getting a christina piercing while simon’s away for a 9-10 month mission as a surprise for when he comes home teehee <33 // bimbo!reader mlist

simon tries to swallow any remaining spit he has just to quench the building thirst in him, but it is understandably futile. he is left walking behind you with a spring in his step, pretences having flown into the wind the moment you barrelled towards him as soon as he got home.

it is a usual dance at this point: you, jumping into his arms all excitable, and him, planting his feet to catch you with ease. simon knows he’ll never tire of this routine, one that never fails to fill him up with over pouring affection that he carries for you.

“i have a surprise for you,” you whispered to him, your voice so small in your hushed giddiness.

you stared at him with sultry eyes, your bottom lip captured between your pearly teeth. simon felt his mouth go bone-dry, his chest stuttering and his fucking chub kicking up underneath his jeans because he knows that look.

dear gods, he knows that look.

the last time you surprised him with anything after his months-long mission, it left simon marking your thighs up with kisses and hickeys and bite marks, the ridges of his teeth so prominent on that single point that stood out in the expanse of your dewy skin – his callsign, ghost, inked on your inner thigh, somewhere close to the juncture of your legs and your pelvis.

so you can’t blame simon for being too interested and going all breathless in anticipation as you led him back to your room.

he’s fumbling for his steps as you two step inside – white walls and strawberry cow print sheets – where you proceeded to sit him down on your vanity before taking a few steps away from him.

“okay so,” you begin, swaying slightly, looking deceptively shy. “i really hope you’d like it.”

simon’s gaze shifts, desire warming to make room for the softness he feels. he shoots you a small smile. “y’know y’can give me a paper cup for your surprise and i’d still love it.”

“of course,” you giggle, rubbing your palms on your sides. “‘s just that i thought of you when i got it so, you know.”

simon’s throat constricts, his pulse quickening at your words – you thought of him when you got it. oh. oh fuck.

���i-” his voice cracks and simon ducks his head down in his embarrassment, clearing his throat quickly so that this moment may pass soon because he can feel himself bursting at the seams.

“thank you, sweets,” he finally utters, rubbing his palm along his face in hopes of abating the blush warming his cheeks.

you beam at him, all pretty and happy, before you begin to slide your skirt off.

jesus.

“oh,” he rasps out, a strained gasp spilling into the air. simon has to clench his fists on top of his thighs to restrain himself, feeling so faint at getting a flash of your pretty legs, his eyes trailing from your floral lace socks before climbing up to get a view of your pretty little lingerie.

his tongue feels heavy sitting in his mouth as he catalogues the little thing – sheer, red, and dainty. it’s not hiding anything, showcasing slivers of flesh that simon wants to sink his teeth into.

it’s not hiding anything so he wonders why it took him a while to notice it. there, nestled just above your clit, are two little diamond studs.

“are those-” his voice sounds strained even to his own ears, the words having been punched out from him as his lungs work over time.

“yeah,” you say with a quiet chuckle and simon briefly wonders how you must look right now but he can’t lift his head to look at you, unable to rip his eyes away from the twinkling diamonds on your body. one of your hands slide from your hips towards your pubic area, acrylics making soft scratching sounds against your sheer panties.

the gems on your nails matches your new piercing – christina, simon’s mind supplies right away – and he just about whimpers.

finally, simon’s eyes flit to your own, and he doesn’t know what he must look like because the brief shyness on your face melts away and desire begins to burn from your eyes. the tension is building between you two, settling in like a dense fog, and simon waits for a heartbeat and another before he’s lunging towards you.

hands tangle against each other in mutual desperation, blindly tearing apparel from each other’s bodies with nothing but twin ragged breaths to fill up the space. simon throws you to the bed, his chest heaving as he stands by the foot of it to gaze down at you, eyes full of palpable hunger as they rove over your presented body.

“mine,” simon rumbles. “all mine.”

he covers your smaller body with his bulk, trembling hands greedy as they press and pull and squeeze at your flesh. your tiny mewls fuel him as he bends down to hover his lips over your pussy. your beautiful, pierced pussy.

“simmy,” you hiccup, your voice a soft little thing. “please, no teasing.”

of course, he wants to say because simon is sure that he doesn’t even have it in himself to prolong it anymore. not when he’s missed you by a lot, having been away for one of his longest missions. and especially not after the gift you have for him.

simon’s silence ripples, promising, and he knows he doesn’t have to say any more.

he kisses your cunt with his lips, nuzzling just soon after. you gasp out from somewhere on top of him, your hands gathering the short strands of his hair in your fist, and tugging when simon doesn’t do anything more than ghost kisses.

simon presses another one as an apology before planting his hands on your thighs and pushing your legs open, presenting your already-wet cunt to him. briefly, he remembers your older gift, and simon shifts, nuzzling your inner thigh instead, nipping at your inked skin.

simon is not a narcissistic man but there is something so good at seeing you carrying his callsign, as though he’s branded you. claimed. marked.

you giggle at the touch, fists loosening just a bit, your legs losing their tension at the ticklish feeling. simon puffs out a huffed laughter, enjoying the moment, taking it all in, then he is moving.

because there is something else he wants in his mouth. something else he wants to explore.

the first drag of his tongue along your clit and up until the first stud of your piercing has you squealing, your small feet digging into the planes of his back. it pushes him even closer to your cunt, something that simon eagerly takes advantage of as he begins to eat you out with earnest.

the cool press of the barbell on his tongue is a new experience, one that he is beginning to love as he continues to lap his tongue along your folds. simon flicks his tongue over the piercing, careful not to truly tug it, before he’s moving on to suck on your clit, rolling the little thing on his tongue.

you choke on a moan, hips lifting off the bed as you thrash, and simon has to press down on your belly to subdue you. you squeak when you are pinned, fists leaving simon’s hair to claw at the sheets instead. simon kisses your clit once more as an apology, before lapping at your hole, pushing his tongue in to mimic shallow thrusts.

“si-!”

your moan sounds guttural, bouncing off of the walls as simon continues to fuck you with his tongue. your slick pools in his mouth and he doesn’t even recognize the answering growl that rumbles from the base of his throat – deep and primal.

his thick hands grip at your thighs, tugging you in a new position, forcing your back to arch as simon continues to make a mess of your pussy.

pretty, pretty pussy.

“s’mine,” simon growls the moment he pulls his tongue out to suck on your folds.

he lightly nips at your clit, and a choked sob falls from what he knows would be your bruised lips. you do tend to bite on them when drunk in your pleasure, nibbling until they are throbbing and plump, looking so kiss-swollen.

fuck. he wants to kiss you there too.

simon gives your clit one more suck before he lifts his head up, the warm air on your room hitting his damp face. he sees the way your chest is heaving before flitting his eyes over your hands to see them tremblingly fisting at your sheets. your head is tipped up, mouth open as you shakily gasp out your breaths.

“sweet girl?” he asks, wanting to see you.

you move slowly, sluggishly, and simon can’t fault you for your reaction as he can still feel your legs shaking. teary eyes turn to him and simon couldn’t help but coo, letting go of your legs to climb towards you.

you track his movement, still hitching in breath, until he’s finally hovering over you. simon presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling, and rumbling a deep hum when your arms hook onto his shoulders for a loose hug.

“hi,” you say with a giggle after the silence settles. simon huffs a fond laugh, shifting so his lips trail soft kisses along your cheeks.

“hi,” simon replies, his lips moving lower, teasing touches from the cut of your jaw to the column of your throat. he settles there, burrowing with a deep breath, hot desire waning for something softer. for something slower.

“…y’like it?” you ask, sounding so conscious as though simon didn’t lose himself when eating you out, leaving his dick to throb painfully underneath his boxers.

“oh, princess,” he says with a breathy chuckle. he shifts again to see you. “i fuckin’ loved it.”

your eyes crinkle when you smile, and simon wonders if his lungs are even working with the way his breath constricts.

fuck, reality is settling – he’s truly missed you.

“thank you for such a darlin’ gift, baby,” simon murmurs, his lips hovering over yours.

you hum, already deaf to his words as you turned your focus to the ghosting touch of his lips instead. you tip your head up, whining when even that doesn’t make them meet.

aww, simon coos in his head. sweets wants a kiss.

so he finally gives it, his head angled to kiss you deeper. harder. teeth clack against each other before warm tongues tangle, and simon wonders if you can taste yourself on him. if you can taste the way he made you feel good.

your nails scratch his back, and he knows shallow welts will be there when he checks tomorrow. but for now, simon loses himself to the messy kiss – nipping your lips and, later, lapping at your folds.

because he’s not done with you yet. he needs to eat you out more. needs to see the way your pretty, jewelled pussy takes his tongue the same way you do with his cock.

oh, how you spoil him.

i teeheed too much while writing this but then i got drunk so it kinda splintered away from what i envisioned 😭

tagging: @oddityinthesky @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @yannauauau @yaebaal @ivymarquis @liwooa @loonalockley @kariiiel

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x best friend fem!reader

Summary: No matter how hard Tangerine tries, he can't resist your sweetness.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: virgin!reader, innocent!sub!reader, soft!dom!Tangerine, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, degradation, praise

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Fuck, Tangerine curses as he looks behind him and realizes the men are quickly closing in on you and him. His instincts kick in immediately as he holds your arm and practically shoves you into the small alley. He grabs your gun and tosses it across the cobble-stones.

"Tan?" you gasp, your eyes round with confusion. What is he doing?

You know the men chasing you are furious that you and Tangerine had foiled their operation and stolen their hard-drive, and you'd truly expected Tangerine's plan to be fighting instead of fleeing.

He seems to have a completely different plan in mind however when one of his hands pushes against your stomach as he corners you against the brick wall, his other hand resting near your head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

Using the hand that isn't on the wall, he hooks one of your legs around his waist. "Shh, trust me darlin'. They didn't see our faces that well and it's dark outside," he mumbles, his mustache tickling your skin as you tense up.

"Just trust me"

His hand on your stomach slides to your waist, adjusting you closer to him, as he hears the men angrily run by. You're chest to chest now and Tangerine's breath is warm on your face, his breathing quickened.

In this position, the only natural thing for him to be doing is kissing your neck—only, he isn't.

He waits a moment until he's completely sure the men have gone and then he pulls away from you.

You let out an involuntary sigh, your leg dropping from his hip as you stare at him in the moonlight. You miss seeing the faint blush on his cheeks as he turns and walks over to recover your gun.

"Couldn't have 'em seeing this thing in your hand—didn't fit the scene," he mutters, chuckling a little. He hands it to you and sniffs, looking away nonchalantly. "Okay, now c'mon, we're in the clear now."

* * *

Once you make it back to the car, Lemon's waiting inside, his hands tight on the wheel. Tangerine opens your door for you and then he jumps into the backseat. You and him haven't spoken since his plan and your mind is racing almost as fast as Lemon hits the peddle.

"Ya got the drive?" Lemon asks.

"Hm," Tangerine nods, his mind obviously elsewhere.

His brother senses whatever tension there is and frowns. "What happened back there?"

"Nothing," you and Tangerine both say in unison, your voices rushed.

When you arrive at the hotel, Lemon is still not convinced nothing had happened considering you and Tangerine usually have to be pried apart so you can sleep in your own room while they share theirs. You can barely look at each other now.

On a normal night Lemon also knows you'd yap his and Tangerine's ears off while his brother listens with interest and uncharacteristic patience—but tonight you're both quiet.

You go into your room with only a small goodnight while the Twins take the one next to yours. You feel warm and fuzzy as your mind reminds you of Tangerine's touch on your thigh and waist, his breath hot against your skin.

It all feels like too much as you lay on the mattress and stare at the ceiling fan.

After a moment, you hear a sharp knock and you jump up and open the door.

"Tangerine," you breathe, looking him over. He's dressed in a white shirt and blue striped pajama bottoms that hang loosely from his hips, displaying a V-line you really wish you couldn't see because the confusing butterflies in your stomach worsen.

"Hi, luv, I wanted to make sure you're okay after what happened. I shouldn' have sprung that on ya. Ya must have been so confused,'' Tangerine sounds much calmer than he clearly is because the way his blue eyes dart around the room, avoiding yours, betrays his true emotions.

You let him in and he walks inside, leaning against the door once it's shut as you stand in front of him. You swear you see him glance at your lacy pajama set for a moment.

"It's okay," you whisper honestly and the after a pause you ask, "I-I just, Tan, what exactly were you doing?"

The question stumps him and he frowns. "Hm?"

You feel your cheeks warm. "I mean–with your hand–and your lips near my neck and—my leg on your hip—what was that all supposed to mean?"

Tangerine is even more confused now and he moves closer, tilting his head. He knows you're younger than him, but still, you should be experienced by now.

He assumed you were.

Tangerine clears his throat. "I was making sure those bastards didn't think it was us—that instead if they saw they'd just see a drunk couple makin' out in an alley."

Your eyes remain round and innocent and Tangerine's heart pounds. He does his best to suppress a smirk.

"Ya do know what I mean when I say "making out" don't ya, sweetheart?" he asks, his tone playfully condescending, and his eyes glimmer as he teases you. "You've made-out with someone surely?"

You don't answer and realization dawns on him. "Kissed someone?" he tries.

"I have," you say quickly, "Like maybe t-three times," you admit and avoid his gaze. Tangerine feels warm inside his chest.

How can he know so little about you when it comes to relationships? You're his best friend.

"Oh," he says and looks to the side, "Well, I'm extra sorry now, luv, I didn't know you'd never had someone touch you like that."

"It's okay," you say, really meaning it.

Tangerine's eyes lock with yours, taking in your innocence and all those familiar thoughts he would feel when he first met you—those filthy, almost primal thoughts—come creeping on him again and he feels ashamed.

How can he stand there and imagine how you'd look sprawled under him, your skin love-bitten and raw?

He snaps himself out of his stupor and asks, "So, you've never been in a relationship?"

You feel embarrassed. You'd avoided this topic for a reason.

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed," Tangerine says and walks further into the room. He takes your hand, sitting you down on the edge of the bed next to him. His mind is racing as he tries to act like how a normal best friend would.

Not one who imagines fucking you deep into this godforsaken mattress.

"You're young. You're still in your twenties, ya?" He asks as if reminding himself.

You nod.

"Mhm, see? You're fine," he dismisses. Awkward silence follows. He stands up and nervously runs a hand in his curls. "Okay, well, um, I should go," he says. Tangerine turns around and he isn't prepared when you grab his wrist to stop him. When he looks at you, the way you're staring at him sends an electricity shock directly to his cock.

"Tan," you pull him closer, "I-I really want to um—have that."

"Have what? A relationship?" he swallows, his commitments issues jumping out like a muzzle around his heart.

You shake your head and gaze at him. "No—making out with someone."

Tangerine's cheeks burn so warm and he's sure they're crimson by now. He feels like he just made that up. "Hmm? Padron?" he hums for conformation and blinks at you.

"Tangerine," your sweet voice turns him into a mess.

Fuck. How could you have no absolutely no clue how much effect you have on him?

You sound very serious now, when you say, "I don't want to beg for you because I think you know what I want, and I think you want it too."

Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck this, Tangerine thinks as leans in, pushing your body so you're laying against the mattress, one hand lying over your head and he captures your lips in his. You respond immediately, your hands finding his cheeks as you subconsciously arch against him. Your kiss is obviously a little inexperienced and clumsy but Tangerine doesn't mind.

He can teach you.

"Let me," he whispers against your lips and moves so he has you under him as he kisses you. His knee presses against the mattress as his arm wraps around you and caresses your hair. "So good, hm? S'good for me, darlin'?" you nod and attempt to kiss him harder.

His fingers interlock with your hair, massaging your scalp, and he pulls away momentarily. "Let me be in control, okay, luv? You just move with me, kay?"

You look flustered. "Is it that bad? I–"

Tangerine shakes his head instantly and kisses your nose in a reassuring manner. "It's not bad, I don't want ya to worry. You're just inexperienced, is all. Relax for me, hm?"

His lips descend to yours again, and this time you let him take control. You move your lips with his, opening your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside. His kiss is passionate but still gentle. All he wants is to make you feel safe in his arms. He wants to make sure you're completely comfortable with him.

His hands find yours as he pins them above your head and his lips move down your jaw, peppering kisses all over your skin.

Shit, if he doesn't stop himself now when will he?

Tangerine pulls away and looks at you from over you. "Darlin', we can't," he whispers, his eyes completely lidded with lust as his chest rises and falls. His voice is husky and hoarse. "I can't do that for you. Not me."

You look up at him, breathless, "Why not?"

Tangerine's chest constricts. "Because it's wrong. Because you deserve better than me."

You blink, not understanding, "Better than you? What do you mean? I want this. I want you," you look up at him with such intensity as you push at his hands, the ones pinning yours to the mattress, breaking free and then grasping onto his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric of his blouse.

"Do you want me to beg, Tangerine?" you ask breathlessly, "Because I will."

His eyes roll back and he feels every restraint he'd had break. He feels like a teenager, only thinking with his dick—but God, he wants you so badly his entire body is vibrating.

He doesn't have much constraint left in him as he mutters, "Are you sure you want this? I wanna make sure you understand what you're asking me for, darlin'." His lips hit your ear and he says, "I'm not a gentle lover."

Tangerine says this but he knows deep down he'll be whatever kind of lover you need. Even if that means not touching you at all.

"I'm sure. I trust you."

Those words cause his heart to leap and his dick to harden even more. You trust him? As your best friend he shouldn't have you like this—he should be better than this—but he can't deny you anything, not when you look so pretty and pliant under him.

It's overwhelming how much he craves being the one to take your virginity. Tangerine's hands slide down your top and he lifts you up, pulling your shirt off and instantly attaching his lips to your nipples. He adores the soft sounds you make, how you shiver from his touch as he trails his fingers down the skin on your waist and hips. How you arch into him with every tentative lick he blesses you with.

"I love the way ya sound," he groans as he lifts up your hips, hooking his thumb in your pajama shorts and your panties, pulling them down so you're naked underneath him. Your skin is as soft as he'd imagined and you look like an angel with your eyes wide and innocent. You're anticipating his touch, your breasts rising and falling.

Tangerine dips his hand lower and rubs your clit gently, sensing your arousal on his fingers. "Shit, s'this all for me, angel?" he teases and you nod, making that whimpering sound he likes so damn much.

He circles your hole and leans in to kiss your forehead. "Can I get ya ready for my cock, pretty girl? Can I use my fingers? My tongue?" he whispers and you nod. This time, the nod isn't enough. "C'mon, use your words for me."

"Yes, please. 'Wanna f-feel you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, finding the baby hairs on his nape and pulling him even closer to you. You kiss him again, liking the way his fingers explore around you.

For someone who'd proclaimed to be so rough with the women he dated, he's being incredibly gentle with you and it's making you feel dizzy.

"Good girl," he smiles into your lips and lays you down again, using his hands to spread your thighs as he looks at you. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. This is about you tonight, not him, so he has no problem ignoring how tight his jeans feel. He sucks on your inner thigh, smiling. "Ya probably taste like honey," he mumbles as his mustache tickles your skin and he moves to press a soft kiss to your clit.

You squirm instantly and Tangerine presses his palm against your thigh, pushing your hips down in a firm manner while he continues to smooth circles around your skin. "Shh, baby, you're okay," he murmurs against your pussy, pressing wet kisses to your slit. He looks up at you, seeing how lidded your eyes have become.

"Hey, my sweet girl, can ya look at me?"

You do your best to focus on him. "Want you to tell me no or stop if it's too much, mhmm. If you're too overwhelmed just say the words, okay? I won't be mad at ya, darlin'. Ya can say them anytime— I don' care if I'm already inside ya or if I've haven't even touched ya, you tell me. You communicate, do ya understand me?"

He's never this insistent with his lovers. Never. In fact, he's usually the opposite. He likes being rough and he just assumes his partners know to tell him if it's too much. But you? You're different. You don't have any experience with this kind of thing and the last thing he wants is you just biting your lip and letting him hurt you.

Tangerine could never live with himself if he hurt you.

You nod.

Tangerine presses a quick kiss to where you're most sensitive. "No, no, your words, luv. Use them."

Your voice is small and breathy. "I understand," you say.

Something inside him snaps and he returns all his attention to you, his hands tightening around your thighs as he eats you out like a starved man. You feel so weak and shaky in the best way possible, your hand gripping anything you can find as you moan and whimper. You've never felt like this and you wouldn't be surprised if this is what heaven feels like.

His mouth works wonders, you lose sense of time and everything around you blurs.

You come with a moan and Tangerine pulls away, satisfied by the self-lubrication you've just provided. He sits up, teasing your hole a little until he stands up and you panic a little. You try and sit up too but your arms feel like jello and Tangerine is back, this time with a condom. He shows it to you with a small smile.

"Makin' sure we're safe, hm?" he promises and kisses your lips again, gently coaxing you to lay back and relax. He spreads your thighs and looks down at your glistening pussy, thinking for a moment. "Still wanna open ya up, luv," he says and brings his hand and slowly inserts one finger, testing the waters.

You take him easily because of the lubrication, with just a little shift of your hips and a moan. However, the second finger isn't as easy and you try to shift away from him this time. "Shh, baby, you're okay. Promise," tangerine reassures as he moves closer and pulls your hips closer to his, your leg resting on his thighs as he works his fingers inside you.

Soon, you're a moaning mess and Tangerine pulls out his fingers, licking them clean, as he smirks and looks at you. "Ya ready?" He sure is, he's so hard it hurts.

"Y-yes," you say, opening your legs. You're aching for him at this point.

You're much too in your head as your eyes shut when he shifts and you hear the rustling of clothes. You hold your breath, feeling him move over you and his dick touches your thigh. You inhale, shivering as the feeling of his hand running against your hairline and your eyes open.

He's hovering over you, your noses almost touching as he keeps himself up by his forearms against the mattress. He lifts himself up with one of his arms, clutching the headboard for a moment as he guides himself to your entrance.

"Tan—" you interrupt him and he looks at you, his blue eyes wide and worried.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it gonna hurt?" you ask honestly, your lip trembling. You want this so bad but you're also scared.

Tangerine's eyes soften. "I don't know, darlin'. It might—it probably will—but if I do things right, it won't be unbearable, I promise. And then, the pain will turn into pleasure," he says with a smile and kisses your forehead.

"And if it doesn't, then you'll tell me and we'll figure something else out, hm. Okay? We can try different angles, like ya bein' on top for example, either way, I'm right here with ya."

You bite your cheek, nodding. He's your best friend. He'd never hurt you.

The first push isn't the worst. It just feels weird up until the burn where you let out a little cry and your hands try and find something to hold onto.

"My back, baby, it's okay, go on," Tangerine encourages with a grunt, being slow and deliberate with his movements. He nips your neck when you wrap your arms around his back and your nails dig into his skin. It feels only fair that if he's hurting you, you should return the favor.

Once the burn disappears and the tip breaches, you relax and it's much easier. You gasp, feeling him rock into you–slowly. "Fuck me, you're so good," he praises, gripping the sheets over your head as he moves a little faster and a little deeper.

Your body is buzzing and your nails dig into his back.

"More," you whimper, "Feels really good," you say, unable to open your eyes as you hold in your moans that threaten to spill because of his thrusts.

He smirks, his chest filling with pride. "Yeah? T'feels good, doesn't it? Ya like havin' me inside ya like this?"

You nod, pulling him in closer as his thrusts become more purposeful. You whine and the more his hips snap into yours and you wrap your legs around him, the deeper you take him. "Tangerine!" you cry, moaning his name as he muffles your sounds with a kiss.

"Quiet now, can't have Lemon hearing how I've turned ya into my good little slut," he groans, his muscles tensing as he continues his pace, holding himself back only a little because you can't take him at his fullest—yet. You'll have time to learn, he promises himself as he fucks you closer and closer to his own release.

You moan at the degradation and it only brings you closer to the edge. "Please, please, please," you whimper pitifully, scratching your nails down his back as the hotel bed creaks underneath you.

"Please what?" Tangerine groans.

You come for the second time. Tangerine captures the broken moan in his mouth as he kisses you, fucking you again and again until you've ridden out your high and he's on the brink.

"Bloody hell," he groans as he comes inside the condom, barely holding himself up from toppling over you and crushing you under him. He peppers kisses all over your face as he praises you. "Good girl, such a good girl for me."

Your breathing harshly, your arms falling to your side as you stare up at the ceiling. Your mind is spinning as you wrap your head around how you'd just lost your virginity to the one man you'd promised yourself you would never fall for—and the one man who it was always inevitably that you would.

Tangerine pulls out gently, discarding the condom in the trash, and then he rolls onto his back and catches his breath. You stay still, not sure how this works. Tangerine looks over at you, hiding a smile as he sends you a soft look.

"Hey, c'mere," he whispers and shifts so you can lay on his chest in his arms.

You do so as he pulls the blanket over your bodies as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "Talk to me. How're ya feelin'?" he asks.

You feel a whirlwind of emotions that you can't quite put into words. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting and yet it intensifies the confusion dancing around you and even when you rest your palm on his stomach for more warmth and comfort, your stomach twists nervously.

"I don't know," you finally admit, your voice small. "I liked it and I- I wanted this but now that it's happened, it's so new and I'm scared."

Tangerine's fingers find themselves in your hair, storking gently as he tries to convey his emotions though his touches. "I understand," he murmurs. "I know it's a lot, but I'm here, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

You close your eyes, letting his words sink in. You never thought you would find yourself in this situation, much less with him. You don't know what came over you to even ask for this—but now that you had, a part of you feels like it was the right decision.

"I've never been with anyone and I don't want to lose myself in this," you confess. "In you."

Tangerine's heart is pounding. He doesn't do commitment or relationships—he's never been good at them. He feels like whenever he's tried, he's been a shitty boyfriend.

However, he can't help but feel like there is something about you that makes him want to do better.

He tilts your chin up so you're looking into his eyes. "You won't," he promises, his gaze steady and sincere. "We're in this together and I promise you, I'll do my very best not to mess this up."

He leans in and kisses your lips softly. "I like you too much to mess this up," he whispers against your lips and you can't help but smile. You've never felt safer than in his arms.

* * *

tag: @tansgirlfriend

[jobean12-blog]

Alpine Approved

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Alpine included)

Word Count: 1,146

Summary: It's your fourth date and since Bucky's already come to your place twice he wants you to come to his apartment this time. You're excited to see his living space and meet his cat Alpine.

Author's Note: Just a cute little thought of what Alpine might do the first time he meets Bucky's girl. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, lots of kisses and Alpine!

Bucky presses you into the wall as he fumbles around in his back pocket for his key. His lips trail across your jaw then with a muttered curse he reluctantly pulls away and pats his leather jacket.

“Where the hell…ah! Here they are!” he says excitedly.

He grabs your hand in his while he unlocks the door with his other and kicks it open. With a yank you’re inside his apartment.

The door slams shut with another kick and before you can even take a look around he has you caged against the door, his large hands resting on either side of your head.

“Now…,” he murmurs. “Where were we?”

His lips brush along yours as his hands slide off the door and down to your waist. You sigh his name and run your fingers through his long hair.

“MEOW!”

You hear the loud meow before you feel something push between your calves.

“Oh!” you squeak and pull away just enough to look down.

Bucky hooks his finger under your chin and brings your gaze back up to his.

“That’s Alpine…you can say hi later.”

He kisses you again and you instantly melt into his embrace. His strong arms pull you from the door and he starts to walk you both backward toward the couch.

“Ow! Damn it!” he says when he walks into the coffee table.

You giggle and bump your nose with his. “Forgot that was there?”

“It’s your fault doll,” he grins, now holding your face between his hands. “I can’t think about anything else but kissing you.”

With that he captures your lips again and continues his journey toward the couch. Just when he thinks he’s safe, Alpine winds himself between Bucky’s legs and trips him up. Thankfully, Bucky is close enough to the couch to plaster you against his chest and propel you both the rest of way to land safely on the soft cushions.

You land on top of him with an “oof.”

“You ok doll face?” he asks with a sheepish look.

“Just fine,” you assure him as you snuggle yourself along his large body. “You’re very comfy.”

He winks and then unexpectedly flips you over, settling just the right amount of his weight on top of you.

“I’m an even better blanket,” he teases.

His thumb caresses the outline of your mouth before he slides his hand behind your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

He’s barely gotten a taste when Alpine jumps onto the back of the couch and starts to swat at his hair.

With a nip of your bottom lip Bucky releases you and turns narrowed eyes to his white fluffy cat.

“You’re a real pain in my ass you know that?”

“MEOW!” is Alpine’s only verbal response. He follows it with another swat.

“Fine! We’ll say hi!” Bucky grumbles and sits up, offering his hand to help you do the same.

“Hi Alpine,” you smile, holding your hand out for him to smell.

He gently nudges it with his cold nose then turns his attention back to Bucky with another loud meow.

Bucky picks up the cat and cradles him against his chest, letting him settle in the crook of his metal arm.

“Happy now?” Bucky asks the white fluff.

Alpine’s tail swishes back and forth as he ignores Bucky and stares at you with piercing blue eyes.

“His eyes are so pretty…like yours,” you tell Bucky as you stare right back at Alpine.

Bucky chuckles and quietly says thank you with a dip of his head.

Alpine never takes his eyes off you as you settle yourself into the couch cushions.

“Does he always stare like this?” you ask Bucky.

“Well…” Bucky starts and then rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Um…sort of.”

“He looks suspicious,” you comment.

“Yeah…I don’t usually have people over and definitely not girls…”

“Are you telling me I’m the first girl he’s met?”

Bucky’s eyes go wide as he looks at you.

“Other than Nat and Wanda yeah I guess and they don’t count like that…”

“Like what?” you ask as you move closer.

“You know…”

“I don’t know. Don’t go all shy on me now.”

“Doll.”

“Bucky.”

“I haven’t stopped kissing you since you walked in! And even before that…he’s definitely not used to me giving someone else all my attention.”

“I feel extra special now.”

“You should doll face.”

Bucky’s smug smile chases away his shyness.

When you look back at Alpine he’s still staring at you in a clearly assessing manner.

“He always inspects every new person that comes over. He might be a bit overprotective.”  

“I hope I pass whatever test this is,” you whisper, giving Alpine your best smile.

The cat blinks several times before he stands and does a big stretch.

“OH BIG STRETCH!” you cheer.

Alpine let’s out a satisfied meow and saunters across Bucky’s legs and into your lap.

“Well,” Bucky starts. “That’s it, it’s official. He likes you.”

“That seemed too easy,” you state and gently scratch Alpine’s head.

“It was the ‘Oh big stretch!’” Bucky teases. “He just loves to hear how awesome he is.”

“Fair enough,” you giggle. “You’re very handsome Alpine.”

The cat meows and rubs closer himself on you.

“Just like your daddy,” you add, completely giving in and cuddling the cat.

“It really does work,” you laugh.

“Great!” Bucky says. “Now he’s really happy and he’s got you right where he wants you.”

Both you and Alpine look at Bucky who’s full on pouting.

“If I stop now he might not love me anymore!” you argue.

“Sureeeee,” Bucky counters.

Alpine starts to gently knead your thigh as he purrs louder and Bucky just let’s out a groan and grabs Alpine off your lap.

“That’s enough buddy. Stop feeling up my girl.”

You let out a peel of laughter and watch as Alpine turns his head up and then gives Bucky his backside as he walks away, clearly annoyed at being displaced.

“He looks mad Bucky.”

“He’ll get over it,” Bucky says. “And besides…this is our date and I plan on getting in all the kisses I can...and then some.”

“I have zero problem with that,” you tell him.

He grabs your waist and drags you into his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into his beard.

“Almost as soft as Alpine,” you tease.

“Hey now,” Bucky playfully admonishes.

Just before Bucky presses his lips to yours you catch sight of Alpine sitting across the room on the window sill, staring at the back of Bucky’s head.

“He’s staring again Buck,” you whisper against his lips with a small smile.

“Ignore him. He’s just trying to get our attention again.”

“You know you never gave me a tour of your place.”

“Later,” Bucky murmurs as his hands slip under your shirt. “You’re all mine now.”

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lizette50

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children… to whom you are the greatest defender. (Part II)

Warnings: this time we have drama, angst, but fluffy like usual. Maybe some smut. Long post.

@dracaryxzs tagging you once more, hope you like it!

***

• The Last Feast.

You are present at your father’s last dinner. Despite detesting the circumstances, you put an effort at your husband’s request, as much as either of you are uncomfortable with this growing awkwardness—thanks to your father’s preference over Rhaenyra and your mother’s likewise neglect.

Not to mention the Strong bastards who tease your lover endlessly—as well as your younger brother Aemond. You recollect how, when you were ten and two summers, you hit Jacaerys in his face and kicked Lucerys’ belly after their bullying over your family.

“You have no idea whom you are messing with, boys. I may be kind, I may be sweet, but I am as dragon as either of you are. If yet one may say so… considering there’s nothing Valyrian on you.”

Words—and deeds—that earned Aemond’s respect and Aegon’s admiration. Today you wish you had better control of your temper, perhaps being more diplomatic, but you’d still stand up for Aegon nonetheless.

“You look thoughtful today”, you hear Aegon telling you. “I think it’s too early for you to join this bloody dinner. You have been just churched, Y/N.”

You smile, letting memories of a distant past fade when Aegon comes at you, holding you from behind as your ladies have just finished dressing you and brushing your long silver locks.

Today you opt to wear your two-sided braided hair and a long, silk green gown which may reinforce your curves. His hands are precisely there as his eyes stare at your reflection in the mirror of your privy quarters.

About a month and half ago, you gave birth to your fifth child—and you’re already the mother of Aegon, Alysanne, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—whom you named Baelor after your grandsire. To the surprise of many, you are not only as fertile as your sisters and mother, but just as strong.

Even though ladies are strongly recommended to avoid events after this period of churching—where they go through the process of getting cleansed carnally and spiritually under the Septs of the Seven—you care very little about such rules, specially when your sire father is about to depart this world—something that gives you mixed feelings.

“I am as good as before”, you turn at him with a smile on your lips. “I may look tired but that is because I had to wake early to feed Baelor.”

Aegon chuckles lightly.

“…all the whilst our dearest Jaehaera was found sneaking under our blanket.”

You laugh heartily.

“She seems to take after you, I’m afraid. Are you ready to put some reins in her, Aegon?”

To which your husband scoffs.

“Please. I’m here to protect and spoil my princesses. Yourself included, dear”, and saying so, he presses a kiss on your cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You spot a glint of mischief behind his eyes; it already makes your intimate parts ache for him. You gently put two fingers over his lips and bite yours when he takes to his mouth, sucking each without parting gazes.

“Mm. Someone’s not been churched enough, I see.”, Aegon teases you, now going to press you against the wall.

“My darling, you best not ruin me for the feast. We are awaited”, you try your best not to give him, but what power do you have when he, taller than you, towers over you and starts to lift the skirt of your gowns…

“Oh there you are!”, you and Aegon almost jump out the moment you hear Helaena’s voice. “Alysanne and I were looking for you!”

Suddenly the seven year old princess with short curly hair and eyes that resemble her parents shows up dressing a gown that is very similar to her aunt’s.

“Papa! Mama! Aunt Laena did my dress, look! I’ve been looking for you in order to show you it!”, she steps up proudly under Helaena’s fond gaze and clapping hands.

You are quickly straightening yourself when Aegon promptly goes to one knee to match his daughter’s height and speak as if nothing was going on before their… sudden arrival.

“You look gorgeous as ever, Alys! Beautiful like your mama!”, he beams at her, before lifting his daughter and holding her tight.

“Weeee!”, Alysanne giggles. “You can still carry me! Look, aunt Laena! Look how strong my papa is!”

Helaena is all smiles at the scene. You join her side, adding a teasing comment:

“It appears your father is still strong, uh? Here I was thinking otherwise.”

Aegon rolls eyes at you, but Alysanne points out her tongue in turn.

“There is none as strong as my papa!”

“That’s my girl!”, he kisses her cheek, spinning her around a little more before downing her at last. “Now, you best go to see your grandsire. Where is Egg? And your twins?”

“Egg has joined Maekar”, she tells him in reference to Helaena and Aemond’s oldest son. “They are insufferable.”

Helaena chuckles lightly.

“Best mates, as they should.”

“As for me… at least I have Rhae to be friends with”, and that being said the princess runs after her cousin, Maekar’s own twin, both born in the same year as Alysanne’s.

“You should be more careful, leaving the door unlocked”, says Helaena, amused.

And she turns before either of you could form a proper answer. You sigh and as you link your arm with Aegon’s, you say:

“She is not wrong, you know.”

“Where can I be faulted if these kids are growing too fast these days”, grumbles Aegon.

You poke his side playfully.

“The joke’s on you for being careless and leaving the door open.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing another kiss on your cheeks before going to the king’s privy quarters where a family reunion is expected.

*

You are sitting opposite Aemond and Helaena, next to your husband on the left side of the table. You are making sure your children are behaving well at the same time instructing your maids what to do in case they get…bored.

Whilst you do so, Aegon avoids Rhaenyra’s gaze, who sits on the opposite right of the table, with her own offspring. Trying to sweep away the taste of bad blood, he rather focuses in his own children.

The sight of his growing family brings a relief to his wounded pride. For years, longing for something his father and mother lacked in providing, seems to have been filled with your love and these of his children.

When seeing how Egg is looking for him and, once finding his gaze, smiles in search of approval, Aegon forgets his haunted memoirs and gives his boy and heir a positive sign with his thumb up.

It’s how happy Egg is that makes Aegon believe that he’s overcome his broken heart. By how proud his son looks just after being acknowledged by Aegon makes him think that… had only his father done that for years, one small gesture such as this, well… wouldn’t things be different?

Looking now at his daughter, Princess Alysanne. She’s every inch his own and Aegon takes pride in his eldest girl. She is sweet tempered and talkative—oh doesn’t she like to talk? Aegon observes how she and her cousin, Princess Rhaella, engage in some serious conversation which the prince supposes to be about dragons.

He does approve how they are bonding. And when his gaze meets Aemond’s, the eldest of the two realizes this is a better out coming than both of them expected—considering their upbringing. Aemond, of his part, gives a small smirk, considering he is proud too of his children.

And then… there are the twins, of course, and the newly born son who’s not present. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys are not gloomy nor moody, simply the mirror of Aegon’s domestic joy.

This picture of the family he never had that is now his new reality makes him at peace with his parents… even if at times, such as now, he is remembered of everything he didn’t have.

“I would like to make a toast”, says King Viserys, and his voice drags Aegon out of his particular bliss. “My family reunited here. Everyone together as it should, the perfect reflection of how peaceful our realm is.”

All eyes are set on the dying king. The evidence is clear and you cannot help yourself wondering… how all would’ve been different had he acknowledged Aegon’s inheritance. When casting a quick look at your sister Rhaenyra, you realize that she’s never wanted the high prize.

“Mama”, your daughter’s hand pushing your sleeve draws you out of your thoughts.

“What is it, sweetling?”

“Will the dragons die?”

You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring Helaena’s curious gaze at the sight of you two.

“Why would you ask this question?”

Alysanne hesitates, suddenly realizing this may not be the most proper place to speak. But since the music is now playing and the babbling is loud, you encourage her to speak her mind.

“I… I had a nightmare again.”

“With what, my dove? You will claim your dragon, eventually”, you assure her.

“I know I will, but this isn’t it. I am talking about a red dragon being smashed. It looked terrifying to watch.”

Back then, you do not comprehend what red dragon is your daughter speaking of: neither you nor Aegon’s dragons possess red scales. Before you could find a way to assure your daughter this is nothing but a bad dream, a sound takes you out of your thoughts.

“I’d like to make a toast for these… Strong boys.”

Your eyes go wide at Aemond’s bluntness. Helaena is too surprised, and you two share a meaningful, confident look. Both of you take your children out of the dining table, sensing trouble is coming out.

Later, you come back to rush Aegon out of this mess.

“I was handling just well”, he tells you prideful.

Indeed, to your relief he bears no black eye. But by how Rhaenyra looks angry, you know enmity is official.

You hold her stare as you stroke your husband’s face.

“I know. Who could beat you, anyway? You did nothing wrong.”

And by saying that, you kiss his lips, finding home in his embrace.

***

• A Storm Of Iron Blades.

Later that night, there is nothing to occupy your thoughts. With your children asleep and your churching period finally at end, you gladly resume your activities.

And your favorite one is riding your husband, of course.

“Aegon!”, you cry out his name, searching for support against the wall as his hands hold firmly your hips whilst his tongue does wonderfulness in you. “Oh Gods!”

And you move your hips gracefully, smirking at the sight of subduing such a prideful prince, yours to be king.

You arch your back, smirking wide as he slaps your hips, hair now a complete puddle of mess as you come undone.

Your husband drinks every juice you give him, such is his thirst. But domineering he still is as, restless like usual, he flips positions and is now thrusting right into you.

“We are conceiving again”, he whispers against your hot skin, turning you around so your face can be seen. Aegon wraps a hand around your neck all the whilst he pulls your hair the way you like him to.

“One more child?”, you moan loud, burying your nails against his skin as you two move as one.

“I told you we are making this a grand family”, he thrusts harder, pleased to earn a louder moan this time.

Matching his hips with yours, Aegon knows you delegate him control. Every time you come after churching, you settle under him, legs firmly tied around his waist… and when you try to swap, oh snap! He got you there.

“Kiss me!”, you demand him. “Now!”

Aegon gladly complies to your commands, pursuing your lips desperately so. In a crazy demonstration of how your connection works, both of you reach climax at the same time.

As he lies his head at your left breast, Aegon strokes your cheek and says:

“Thank you.”

“What for?”, you ask him surprised.

“For giving me what I was refused: a family.”

You peck his lips, cuddling onto him.

“I love you, Aegon. I hope you know I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.”

As he looks up at him, Aegon knows the veracity of these words. And when he kisses you, the prince fears for them at the same.

*

Little Egg comes early next morning to get his father’s attention. You realize they are very close, which makes your chest swell with pride. It’s you who welcome your eldest when door opens and you are still breastfeeding baby Baelor, despite Aegon’s protest that you should be doing so in your bed not on your feet.

“Darling! What is it?”, you smile brightly at him.

Despite the nickname, Little Egg is hardly little now. He’s grown quite fast for his age and will most likely to be very tall in his early adulthood. His hair is long now, emulating his father’s.

“I want to see my lord father.”

Thankfully, Aegon has just left his privy quarters when his son’s voice reach him.

“What’s lord for? Father is just fine”, Aegon pulls a grimace at the formality.

Little Egg chuckles.

“My lady grandmother told me I should be mindful of my manners.”

“Who cares about what that old woman says?”, and here he ignores your weak protest at how your mother is addressed. “Come here, won’t you hug me properly?”

As you sit to finish feeding your baby and hold him close, you delight at the scene of Little Egg running to the arms of Aegon, chuckling as he is spinning around before putting down.

“A egg has hatched”, says your brave little boy. “I reclaimed it as mine.”

“Well, of course it’s yours!”, says Aegon, admired. “We put that egg with you since you were born. You slept it tightly with it!”

Little Egg blushes at his remark.

“Well, either way, it’s born! And it’s mine!”

“Fantastic! What’s the name of it?”

“I thought about something to honor your dragon, papa, since it’s golden with details in silver. So I figured to call it Goldenfyre.”

You swear you thought Aegon’d burst into tears. You too think some tears come from your eyes, aware of how important this is to your husband. A moment once stolen in his childhood, but somehow regained to compose his son’s.

“Will you show me Goldenfyre?”, Aegon smiles proudly at his boy.

“Yes”, Little Egg smiles timidly, but you spot pride in his eyes. “And after that I want to show mummy too.”

“Of course my dearest”, you tell him just as delighted.

“I also saved an egg to Baelor”, he tells you proudly when coming at you to earn a motherly kiss you give him.

“That’s my boy. Remember, this is your brother whom you shall always protect.”

Very serious, says your small version of your husband:

“I will not fail in this duty, mother.”

“I know you won’t.”

As you look up, finding Aegon as tearful as you, contentment finds solace in this new home, built over a wrecked one. Perhaps the Gods could be good, after all.

*

Not everything is about family, however. You need a moment to fly with Dreamfyre again and are about to do so with your youngster one when the Queen comes after you with a grave expression.

“Where is Aegon?”

“Greetings to you too, mother”, you do not mind the disdain in your tongue. “He’s with his son. Something you could have done too if you had the time.”

Alicent looks at her daughter as if she somehow wished you were like Helaena: quieter and serene, even though you are more than aware how your younger sister is also estranged with the Queen. Not that you have been very wayward, you have rarely been at her presence… is all.

Old wounds takes time to heal.

“This is not the moment nor the time to point out my wrongs. I know you will not understand the sacrifices I’ve made for this family, but I need you to summon Aegon.”

“Can you not do this yourself since you have sacrificed so much for us?”

Alicent sighs. At times she finds hard to look at you, and you know that is because you resemble Aegon.

“Your father…”

Now she has your attention. You think wise to give your maid your Baelor.

“Yes?”

What you find in your mother’s eyes knocks your pride down.

“Your father has… departed this world.”

In other words, you know you should be prepared to war. And how strange it is when for the first time in a long while you and the queen find comfort in each other with a hesitant embrace.

Outside, you could hear the lightenings.

***

You are flying Dreamfyre when clouds start to rumble. Your dragon turns her head to give you a look as if she’s sensing your intimate thoughts. Amidst the announce of a storm sun is starting to rise in the horizon and you should go back… but you are reluctant. So she knows where to take you.

To your surprise, though, you find him there. In the very spot where everything began. Has it almost been ten years since you and him professed feelings for each other? It certainly doesn’t feel like it.

“Egg”, you call him affectionately. “I wasn’t expecting to seeing you here.”

Aegon looks distraught, a view that much plagues your heart. You take his side and hold his hand.

“War is coming. She’s not going to accept I am our father’s heir.”

“We can do this”, you tell him firmly. To his surprise, you are determined to go to the end of it. “I know my place, but you must know yours. Father has determined as tradition has that a male heir is to sit upon the iron throne. This happens to be you.”

“I wasn’t prepared for the role”, Aegon admits in one of his rare displays of weakness.

You cup his cheeks with both hands and make him look at you. Aegon finds comfort in you, solace for his insecurities, which you know so well. What’s more is that you never left him.

You stayed.

“Circumstances are better teachers than theories. I can help you with that, though. I am not made of silk or dragon blood”, you flash him a side smirk. “I have a brain sharp as sword.”

“Y/N… I never underestimated you. We…”, and here he whispers. “We both know you’d be a better queen.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your nose against his. Rain starts to fall but you both seem immune to it.

“Shush. I know my place, husband. You will be a great king.”

As if convinced by your arguments, Aegon rests his head against your shoulder, and you rock him gently, stroking his silver locks.

“We are doing this for our children.” He tells you firmly, regaining his composure.

Hands intertwined, eyes locked. Mutual communication.

“My Visenya”, Aegon smiles, besotted.

“My Conqueror”, you beam at him.

And all is sealed with a kiss.

*

The green council is gathering and in the meantime you spend your time with your sister and your children.

“We must be wary”, whispers Helaena to you.

You cast her a knowing look.

“Can we prevent it to happen?”

“I don’t think so. The crown has a price to pay.”

“I shall do it so”, you tell her firmly.

And then the conversation breaks suddenly.

“Mama”, says Alysanne, running to her side. “Will papa get burnt?”

Never before you detested these dreams your daughter and sister share.

“No”, you assure her firmly, giving a side glance at Helaena, who’s holding her own children protectively. “Nothing bad will happen to him. This I vow.”

To the rest of the day, despite not contenting yourself with embroidery, you settle with the role of mother just fine. But as rain gets heavier outside, you know another will come eventually: that of a wife ready to fight for her husband.

Later that evening, as you watch the children playing with their father and you rock young Baelor against your chest, Aegon tells you the plans of his coronation.

Alysanne and Little Egg are almost fighting over who climbs faster in his father’s shoulders and when he turns at them with that smile you love and says:

“Hey. What did I say?”

“One at time”, grumbles Little Egg. “But I am the heir, therefore…”

“Heir you are, but you must not forget your manners, my son. Ladies first, or has chivalry died?”, and here you try to hide away your amusement.

“Fine. You go, sister.”

Alysanne puts out a tongue, but she too earns a reprehension of her father.

“Now, now, this is not the way, Lys.”

“Sorry”, she puts out a face that makes her irresistibly cute. Aegon chuckles and kisses her temple before putting her over his shoulders. “Weee! I’m flying!”

Aegon makes a noise that you suppose to emulate a dragon’s. The whole scene is adorable and gets your children’s attention. Soon he does the same to everyone—but Baelor, who’s asleep.

“Very well. Your father is tired, he’s done for the night. It’s late and you should be put in bed.”

“Papa”, says Jaehaera, putting his sleeve.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Can you tell us a story before we go to bed?”

“Yes!”, Alysanne runs to her sister’s side and the boys too, despite them pretending to lack interest, which amuses you.

“It’s your day, honey”, you tell him in between giggles. “I’m already occupied here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t want this arduous task. However, he makes sure to get the four children to put in your bed before getting to such a mission.

First, he gets Alysanne and Little Egg under blankets before putting the twins on his knees. Second… he makes sure to get their attention.

“Now listen up. Do you want to hear a story about a dragon princess who saved her dragon prince?”

“Hear! Hear!”, Little Egg cries out. “Ladies and gentlemen, no bard nor storyteller can match our dad!”

Aegon blushes.

“Why thank you for the praise, son. So I guess this is a yes?”

“Of course! There is romance too so we are all very pleased”, says a very romantic Alysanne.

You watch as your husband is set loose to your children. He likes the attention, but more so… he likes being their father.

If we were peasants, we’d be a merrier family.

Sweeping away these melancholic thoughts that make reference to an inevitable upcoming war, you focus on how happy he looks when the burden of wearing a crown is not smashing over him.

How loved he is when surrounded by these innocent toddlers who want to please him—and Aegon is eager to please them too.

You are teary at the scene. Alysanne is watching attentively as her father tells in his own your love story behind a great deal of creativity and fantasy, which makes you chuckle quietly. Jaehaera and her twin brother are not too far behind. These youngsters who like to make your quarters a mess are unusually quiet, captivated by their father’s voice, eyeing him with the most genuine devotion of a children.

Eventually though as the story comes to an end, they are all snoring.

“Well, my king. Our bed is full”, you laugh quietly as you put asleep Baelor carefully in his cradle.

Aegon smiles, moving to where you are and putting you against his arms.

“Thank you for giving me these beautiful children. I cannot believe I am this blessed.”

“How could it be otherwise? Oh Aegon, I love you.”

You spot some tears forming behind his eyes. He clears his throat, still uncomfortable with his own sentiments. Nevertheless he says:

“And I love you, my preciosity. You are my moon and stars.”

“And you are my sun and universe.”

This evening ends well. And you kiss him in turn.

*

But even sun sets in paradise. You are outdoors with Helaena, two maids and your children when Aemond comes in.

By the looks on his face nothing good is coming. You prepare for the bad news.

“What is it?”

Aemond cannot look at you, but it’s Helaena, who runs to his encounter, who casts a look at you and says:

“War has found its home. We best be prepared to fight it.”

Like a premonition, heavy rain starts to fall. You touch your hip, feeling that dagger you keep hidden underneath your silk gown.

“Well… Let war come. It will end with fire and blood”, you whisper to yourself before going back inside with the toddlers.

***

• A Dragon for A Dragon: The Cause Must Be Avenged.

You are by your husband’s side when the crown is put atop his head and Aegon raises his sword, applauded under the cheerful voices of “Long May Live King Aegon!”

It’s at you he looks for when his smug smirk curls on his lips. You nod approvingly, pride sparkling in your eyes.

Later that day, when council is opened, you are with the children when your husband summoned you. To a general surprise, Aegon wants his wife to be present at his council.

“My lady Y/N is as competent as my brother, Aemond”, he nods at his one-eyed sibling, who gives you a quick, indecipherable gaze. “That is my decision.”

“It is as it is”, says Otto in a dismissive tone. “We need to ponder what to do to counter Rhaenyra’s actions. She’s not inclined to peace.”

“We ought to do what it takes to preserve my crown”, muses Aegon. “Who are our allies?”

Someone starts to list them. You watch Aegon’s reaction, furrowing his eyebrows as he ponders what to do with the information.

“If I may speak”, says Aemond after some babbling dies. “I suggest we take Harrenhal. It’s my understanding the Blacks are heading its way there.”

“We use our dragons before they do. But if they are armed…”, you muse in almost in an inaudible suggestion.

Aegon shoots you a glance.

“Don’t.”

You sigh heavily, but don’t argue.

“I can go.”

“But we need Vhagar”, says Aegon. “Perhaps we can do without a dragon.”

“That is impossible. We are talking about a war of dragons, Your Grace”, says Otto, somewhat impossible. “We must preserve the dragons until we cannot. There’s no need to be in such a hurry. We will come out with a defense tactic.”

“Who’s the one intending to claim Harrenhal?”, you ask suddenly.

Ser Otto gives you a quizzical look, but it’s Aemond who answers you.

“Our uncle, Daemon Targaryen.”

“He’s the right hand of Rhaenyra”, you think out loud, not minding to call her a sister when Helaena does this role a lot better. “What about the other’s?”

“You are not considering getting into this fight, are you?”, to your surprise its Queen Alicent who voices out a general preoccupation.

“Visenya did so, my mother. Whilst I perform my duties accordingly, I shall stand for my husband’s right to wear his crown”, you flash him a smile and are pleased to see him regaining confidence.

“Your loyalty is touching, dear”, says Otto genuinely caring, for you and Helaena are his favourite grandchildren. “However, what military expertise do you have?”

“I am a great dragon rider and I could use this well”, you don’t find prudent to share that you’ve been taking sword lessons for a while. And by the looks Aegon gives you, you know he knows. “I could beat Baela, though.”

“This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about war.”

“War is founded upon vengeance, grandsire”, you speak gently. “Let it be said. A dragon for a dragon, my Aegon shall be avenged.”

That said you recline back to your chair, pleased to leave everyone in the room astonished with this side of yours few—except Aegon, Aemond and Helaena— are familiar with.

*

“You must stay for the children”, says Aegon. He’s walking from one side to the other, in evident display of nervousness.

It’s just the two of you in the council room this afternoon.

“I cannot handle the possibility of…”

He leaves his fears unspoken and it’s when you walk to where he is and holds his face with your hands.

“We are in this together, whether you like it or not. Your birth right will not be stolen from you. As our children’s…”, you smile at him, fondly. “We will wage this war, but with no need to be cruel.”

Aegon rests his forehead against yours, nodding in an agreement. It’s when he pursuits your lips and you let him lead the way. Suddenly, the kiss evolves and you are gladly lying against the table as he moves over you.

Every issue is kept drowned when the needs of flesh overcomes each. Aegon needs you as much as he needs you. Here comes that boy, starving for affection, that you know.

You gasp as his callous hands run over your thighs, lifting the skirts of your gown as his lips brush against your neck, biting your neck, leaving traces of bruises.

“Aegon”, you moan out his name in response of his eager fingers digging to your core. “Oh Gods!”

His eyes look for yours and when finding yours, your hands hold his hair, pulling him over you.

“My husband”, you gasp, moving your hips against his skillful hands, and soon you take your seat at the edge of the table.

“No”, he groans against your ear when perceiving your intentions. “Just sing out to me…”

But you answer to none—despite gladly obeying him in all when it’s due—so you smirk rebelliously when your hand finds the path to his pants.

“Come here… Let’s do it together”, and you whisper in his ear. “Remember when you taught me?”

Aegon closes his eyes, already unbearably aroused by your words. You bite his earlobe, moaning softly as you speak unspeakable things, caressing his manhood until it pumps against your palm.

“Fuck”, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. “Fuck, Y/Nickname…”

“Yes, baby. Together. We are always together…”

And when he rises his eyes and bites your bottom lip… well, he replaces his hand with something else and it takes little time until you reach climax.

Together.

As it has always been.

“I love you”, you mumble in his ear.

“I love you”, he whispers back.

***

“A king cannot be so until he leads his soldiers”, says Aegon before the council.

To a general astonishment, this is Aegon announcing his preparations to war.

“A king delegates others of his trust for a good reason, Aegon”, your mother snaps at him. “Do not play the reckless…”

“I think it’s funny”, you muse out loud, attracting the council’s gaze—with particular notice to a smirking Aegon, aware of how subtle your temper works, and for which he’s grateful. “How so many of you planned to make the transition to this new reign in a peaceful form, and yet when it is more than clear that war is inevitable… you stop the king to do what’s must. War should have been prevented many moons ago, but this is not the time to live based on “what ifs”. If diplomacy is not the answer…”

You stand, and you swear you detect an approval smirk from Aemond himself.

“…then fire is.”

“May I suggest a fare point that could be turned to our advantage?”, and here Aemond speaks in turn.

“Well, it appears I speak to deaf ears”, grumbles Otto Hightower.

“Listen to Aemond, grandsire. We are not as impulsive as you judge”, you speak softly.

After a moment of silence, the Hand of the king reluctantly lets Aemond speak, of which your brother is thankful for. And you take your seat next to your mother.

What happens next, however, will test the stability of your husband’s cause.

*

“Baela has been spotted flying near Storm’s End”, you are glancing through the window when you hear Aemond’s whispering to his brother. “She’s sent there in order to bring Baratheons to Rhaenyra’s side.”

“And what do we know about their position?”, inquires Aegon.

As the two men speak, your eyes concentrate at what happens at the yard. Unaware of a grave event that is to mark their father’s reign, Little Egg and Alysanne are playing with Maekar and Rhaella in complete synchrony. You feel a fang of guilt for not spending time with them, but you convince yourself this will pass. After all, you cannot neglect the role of wife. When you told Aegon you’d do anything for him, you meant every word.

“Y/N”, Aegon comes at you, hands resting over your waist. He knows what afflicts you. “When I told you to stay, I’ve meant it.”

He turns you at him, sensing your tears as if he senses his own. You cannot repress all this stress that you’ve been going through. You simply… cannot. And he’s there to hold you, to pick your pieces up.

“You don’t have to be strong the entire time”, he whispers to you, cupping your cheeks and fighting away your fears. “Look at me. I demand it as your king.”

You chuckle lightly, but when you raise your gaze, you know you are the one exposed for the very first time. And Aegon appreciates it.

“This is often the reversed role, is it not? It’s usually me asking for comfort and not the other way around”, and here he wipes the tears off your eyes. “Your unending loyalty to me, regardless of my vices and countless flaws, is a very endearing gift. We have fragilities and they do not make us weak. It makes us… humans, I think. Not a word I think of often, but here’s a brilliant learning you’ve taught me.”

And he proceeds:

“I honestly did not wish our family ripped apart like that, more than aware knowing how a war between kin displeases the deities. But what else can I do? This is not about us, but about our children’s future. I want our five, and hopefully six, toddlers to grow strong and with a prospective future”, he smiles when he manages to get something out of your sadness. “I lament it mostly deep that I’ve brought such misfortune to our family. I wish it was otherwise, that you were proud of me…”

“I am proud of you”, you cut him. “Aegon, I could not look elsewhere and choose someone else to be espoused to. As much as I get along with Aemond, this isn’t the man I love. Who did I come up to this world with? You, Aegon Targaryen. I weep because I want to give you the peace you deserved. I witnessed all these wounds and…”

Aegon swallows his own tears, knowing today you are the one who needs comforts. He comes to realize that, being this stronghold for so long, you too had your own wounds, your own pieces to get.

Oh my darling, Y/N. We are their creatures, are we not?

“You are my sun and stars”, he mumbles. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself, Y/N. We are healing together, won’t we? This is us against the world, my lovely wife.”

Lifting your chin, he presses a soft kiss over your eyes and says:

“You gave me everything I was refused in these years. You gave me love when I had none, you restored me trust when I lacked in; you granted me happiness when I was unworthy it. You make my days a lot better.”

A pause comes where a comfortable silence hangs in between. You rest your forehead against his, breathing in his silence.

“If we came to this world together…”, you whisper secretively.

“…then it is only natural that we leave it together”, Aegon vows it with a smile on his lips.

The decision is done and the pact is made.

***

You see Aegon flying high with Sunfyre and a bad feeling consumes you. Aemond is there too, so he’s going to Vhagar when you stop him.

“Nay”, you tell him firmly. “Leave this to me.”

You are not wearing your court garments, but prepared to go to war. Underneath green and silk, with some adjustments, you are dressing hauberk with two sharp blades carefully guarded. Your long silver hair is tied in a perfectly braid.

“Today we don’t spot Alyssa”, says Otto, concerned about your bold attitude, narrowing his eyes as you mount Dreamfyre and fly high. “But Visenya Targaryen has come to us.”

A remark that would later echo through generations of poets.

*

What you and Aegon agreed was to inspire soldiers in order to go to local Y/C and there make it a stronghold to his cause. However, spies delivered news that Baela Targaryen is preparing to wage war… with her grandmother, Rhaenys.

Yet, who’s coming is Rhaenys’s red dragon, Meleys. Suddenly you are remembered of your daughter’s dreams and her fear in losing her father.

In order to try to prevent agony making a nest in your heart, in barely gritted teeth you command Dreamfyre to fly above skies—as high as possible without, however, missing Aegon’s position. After that, you promised yourself to fly to Baela’s encounter: there is an unknown bad blood that you find urgent to resolve at last.

In the meantime, though, this isn’t about you, but your king, your lover, your brother, father of your children. This isn’t about a crown, but the legacy of your family—misadjusted they may be, but it’s still the one you are part of.

Grey clouds begin to assemble, but Dreamfyre flies as if it’s in her natural environment. She knows your thoughts and sentiments, she’s prepared to fight even if for a while she hasn’t been part of any of the kind.

But she can fiery.

“Baby girl, be careful. Meleys can be…”

Your words die in your throat when you see fire coming from the old red dragon. Suddenly, Dreamfyre takes a deep dive and gives such a strong bite against Meleys, getting her off guard. Part of the flames may get to you, and you think you hear Aegon screaming your name—you’re fueled with adrenaline, and you cannot stop.

All you know is that, moved by your sentiments, Dreamfyre does drag Meleys down. And it only comes to an end when both rider and creature fall down.

An explosion is heard and felt. You are flying high, Dreamfyre’s sound coming as if echoing your silent mixed feelings. Now adrenaline comes to pass, you realize part of your arm is burnt—and it hurts like hell.

“Are you well, D?”, you ask your dragon, more concerned about her than to your own wounds, in spite of the unspeakable pain.

As if to nod that she is doing perfectly well, Dreamfyre turns her head. It’s when Aegon comes at you.

“My wife!”, and when you turn at him you spot concern in his eyes.

“I told you”, and suddenly weakness comes to shake your senses. “I’d do anything… anything… for…”

And why do words die in your mouth and everything is dark? You have no idea, but you swear that you hear Aegon yelling as your eyes close.

***

• The Aftermath.

In a twist of events, Aegon II refuses to leave your bed until you open your eyes. Nothing can take his mind off you, therefore all matters are placed for now in the hands of Otto Hightower.

Your children have momentarily been put under the care of their aunt Helaena, for so distressed is the king that he cannot fail his children now.

But gods be good and you recover your strength. To your surprise, Aegon is next to your side.

“How… What…”

“My beloved wife”, Aegon smiles warmly when seeing you well and safe, mostly important: alive. “My greatest defensor. Imprudent and reckless, but possessor of the sweetest heart I know.”

He kisses you carefully, as if he’s afraid of losing you.

“What happened? Did we win? How’s Dreamfyre?”

“Calm yourself, love. Rest”, says your husband in most affectionate tone, though firm. “Dreamfyre suffered little damaged in comparison to your broken and burnt right arm and neck. Good grief, woman. It was supposed to be me.”

“No”, you breathe out of relief. “Not you. Never.”

Carefully you lean to his side, not minding the slight pain given just by a slight move. You caress his face, seeing his concern, the fear of losing you… that you risked your life for him, something none has ever done for him…

“I love you”, he whispers like the needy boy he is. “Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

“I love you too, my king”, you brush your lips against his, fingers intertwining together. “We promised to leave this world the same we walked in here, didn’t we?”

Aegon half smiles at you.

Even though the battle is won, the war hasn’t ended yet.

*

With you regaining your strength, domestic life—where the king’s and yours are concerned—goes back to what it was before your accident.

“Papa, is mama well?”, Jaehaera asks him, eyes tearful.

She’s clinging onto him as he rocks her in his arm. This afternoon you are resting and he’s decided that he needs a break of governing for a moment as well.

Under his watchful gaze, Alysanne is working in her embroidery and Jaehaerys is playing toys with his eldest brother.

“She is resting, my love. But I assure you”, and here he pauses to kiss his daughter’s cheek, earning him a beam that breaks his inner walls, “that she is well. Your mama is as dragon as you.”

“I am a dragon because of her”, Jaehaera corrects him, which makes Aegon chuckle.

Oh aren’t you adorable? How could I father such a pure child? And how… how else does she love me so?

In order to avoid the depth of such thoughts, Aegon limits himself in kissing his daughter’s forehead. Then he drives his fatherly gaze to his offspring.

“What are you seeing there, Alys? Let me see.”

Alysanne is blushing before her father’s attention. Very pompously, she takes her embroidery work so he can take a look.

“Aunt Helaena has taught me how to use the needle properly. I was struggling with the smaller ones”, she admits somewhat shyly so. “So here’s a green dragon. I want to mark in my gown your coat of arms, papa.”

Aegon swallows before the sight of his daughter, whose eyes show an eagerness to please him—a feeling he knows so well, but unlike Alysanne’s case, he was never corresponded. Precisely why the king beams and says:

“I am very proud of your skills, Alys. I am unworthy of such an honor”, says he with a wide smile.

In this sacred moment with his daughters so close, Aegon doesn’t see you come by. You are leaning against the wall, pleased to find your family in complete harmony.

Your boys, getting along… Jaehaerys trying to impress a very serious Little Aegon in his building, earning an eventual smile of his older brother’s approval. All the whilst Jaehaera sleeps in her father’s lap and Jaehaera is blushing pleasantly at the praises she receives him.

It makes you think of your own scars. How many times you tried to please your father and all you got was dismissive waves, distant conversations and comparisons to Rhaenyra?

Containing a sigh, you know how all of this is nothing to what you have now, but it’s pointless to deny these scars. They make you who you are, as it’s Aegon’s case.

Both of you are everything your parents were not. When Aegon looks at you with a smile on his lips, you smile too because you know you succeeded at it.

**

Despite the gleeful scenarios, war is still going. You are barely recovered when there are news of Baela flying to take y/c, a very important spot for the cause she defends.

You are listening to the Green Council’s strategies when you find Aemond and Aegon’s gaze on you. You lower yourself, but you know why they are concerned about you.

When defending Aemond so many moons ago, it was Baela who hit you hard. Even though you managed to knock her down, your fury was such that left the boys open mouthed by then.

A grudge that you were never able to overcome. A wound that time didn’t heal.

But the opportunity comes just fine.

“I can patrol skies”, you announce casually.

“I forbid you, Y/N”, Aegon is the first to protest. “There is no need to…”

“Y/C stays close to King’s Landing”, you muse, trying to remain calm.

“She’s not daring to come nearby when Vhagar is here”, interferes Aemond.

Both of you exchange looks. You bite down your lips, saying no more. However… opportunity to fight for your husband is coming once more, and yet at what cost?

Days go by when it’s decided that Aemond shall take Harrenhal on behalf of the Crown. This comes after Rhaenyra suffers another blow: her son Jacaerys was defeated once for all in an encounter against Aegon himself.

“I’m proud of you”, you smile the brightest as you two parade at the capital. “A great victor, that you are!”

Aegon flushes at your compliments. This day you and him ride splendid horses before all, richly dressed in order to reinforce signs that the civil war is coming to an end.

“As I am”, he takes your hand to his lips, not minding the courtly rules where public display of affection is concerned. “My greatest defensor. I am nothing without you, Y/N.”

Despite taking pride in this acknowledgment, you play the humble.

“My king, this is untrue. I only do what I am asked of: to daily submit my will to yours, to provide you heirs, to pledge for the safety of our subjects during this rebellion”, you smile at him for, despite the embellishment of your words, you speak such with your heart.

“My queen, blessed by the divine with the utmost caring for this one who gives you word; your unending loyalty and wisdom beyond your years played a great part in the conduct of the affairs of this realm. Whether I wage wars, whether I bring peace to our subjects it is in you and in the beautiful children you provided me that I think of.”

In silence, when he squeezes your hand and nods at you, you know what he means. And as you smile timidly and play the humble queen, he knows what you speak too.

In your own ways, underneath this public exhibition, one tells the other:

I love you.

‘Tis enough to make the people rejoice and praise for the health of King Aegon the Wise and Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen.

***

• Epilogue.

War had its costs. But it eventually came to an end. Upon its twilight, revenge bled two broken houses of one dynasty for the last time. Aegon met his sister, Rhaenyra, just after you defeated Baela at the Battle of Stormlands, which would later be sang by bards how ‘two damsels, misled by the ambitions of men, took their dragons to a deadly feast and thus they danced’ until ‘the lady Baena was stabbed in the heart by a very bold move of Queen Y/N’.

Some of superstitious folks believed to have seen in you the ghost of Queen Visenya.

You brought a victory to your cause, but got yourself a broken arm. Dreamfyre was hurt too, but not injured enough to impede her to fly with you over the lands of the Baratheons, who welcomed you.

In the meantime this happened, Daemon Targaryen was defeated and Aemond conquered it all. Daemon’s lover, the witch queen of the place, Alys Rivers, attempted to transfer her affections to his nephew—unsuccessfully so. It was rumored that he said the following words:

“Mine heart knoweth no lady that is not mine damsel, Helaena.”

What was her destiny after these words were professed? The chroniclers could not tell. She vanished and many attributed to Lord Aemond her death.

Whatever the truth, Lady Helaena and her offspring moved with Silverwing to meet her husband, ignoring his orders that she should not do so until he sent for her. Apparently she knew what the outcome was going to be.

As for the battle between Rhaenyra and her brother for the throne, Rhaenyra was defeated. However, it was you who interfered on behalf of the kingdom to impede her death.

An agreement was arranged: Rhaenyra, albeit reluctantly, renounced her rights to the throne and agreed to wed her sons to you and Aegon’s daughters, as well as to wed her daughters to your sons. Peace was finally sealed and she was left to live in Dragonstone.

Once reunited, in the present day this feud is now a page in history. You are enjoying better days, ruling behind the scenes as Aegon conducts the realm with a wit that surprised most.

“He is a good king”, you tell your mother in a day where, to a general surprise, Aegon brokered a peace treaty with the Dornish. “Why it surprises you goes beyond my comprehension.”

Today you are dressing a long green, silk gown with reinforces your curves; your silver locks are carefully braided under a hair net that reminds Alicent of the days the dowager queen used to wear it herself. Besides the ravishing look, you wear the jewels Aegon recently gifted you: a pair of emerald earrings and a gold necklace.

“He was hardly the most devoted to studies, is all”, so your mother tells you.

It is a curious contrast how, after many years, you and her found a way to overcome parental issues. But even now, you find difficult to accept some of the critics she at times weaves to her eldest boy.

“Please, it was only lack of proper encouragement”, you roll your eyes as a response.

“I see I cannot make a comment about my son when I’m with you. Let us change topics”, and here she smiles. “I heard you are carrying another child.”

“Well, what can I say? Aegon makes it difficult not to engage in marital affairs”, you giggle maliciously.

Upon which Queen Alicent scoffs, feigning offense.

“To hear these words from the Good Queen Y/N?!”

“Why, I am not complaining. Pretty much otherwise.”

In between chuckles, you move to the gardens where the dowager queen finds all her grandchildren playing together.

Aemond, recently acknowledged as Hand of the King, is talking to Aegon, probably something about the affairs of the realm—judging by their serious countenance. But the one eyed prince is also attentive to his wife, Helaena, who’s teaching the now ten year old Alysanne to improve the girl’s skills, joined by their daughter Rhaella, same age as her cousin. As well as how Maekar and Little Egg—as Aegon’s heir will be always known—are talking nonsenses of their age.

The little ones are not too far behind. Aegon is holding three year old Baelor as he talks to his brother, but is in a position where he can watch over the young toddlers. It does not go unnoticed by all how Jaehaera tries to be friends with another Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, who was sent with Viserys to be educated at court. Aegon doesn’t look very pleased, but young Viserys is too busy playing with cousins Jaehaerys and Aerys.

When seeing you with their mother coming at the happy meeting, Aegon soon excuses himself to greet you.

“My mother”, he pays the due respects to Queen Alicent, and then doing the same to you. “My lovely wife.”

“Aegon my darling”, and here you pick the chubby baby out of his arms. “Baelor, did you miss mama? Or were you too spoiled by daddy?”

Aegon gives you a smug grin.

“Well, isn’t this why I’m their father in the first place?”

“Not to overindulge, my love.” But not even you believe in what you are saying.

Soon, Helaena and Aemond join the three of you.

“Together at last”, and not to a general surprise Helaena greets you with a warm smile and her own way in showing her affection to you.

“Greetings to you too, my dearest. I was having a moment with our mother. She has some news to share”, you flash the dowager queen a mischievous smirk, pleased to find her blushing.

“Oh…”

“Shh, don’t ruin the surprise.”

To which Aemond confides a whisper to Aegon:

“As if it’s a surprise to know what she’s yet to tell.”

“It did take more years than we’ve judged”, the elder of the two agrees, struggling to muffle a chuckle.

“Well, I was worried… due to the recent events that concerned us all, that…” the Queen doesn’t really know how to put it.

But Helaena makes it easy for all of you.

“If you are happy, then we are happy for you.”

“You deserve it, mother”, you echo your sister’s support.

“But I…”

“Do not protest. We’ve always seen Ser Criston as the father we didn’t have”, says Aegon.

“He did indeed raise us, though”, so Aemond points the obvious.

“I appreciate your support. Then I think we should invite Ser Criston to join us.”

“Later, perhaps”, says Aegon, mirroring that old mischievous spirit that characterized his youth. “I need a moment with my wife and my children if you excuse me.”

“Oh yes, the family man”, teases Aemond discreetly before getting a punch in his arm.

This afternoon, all parts well and in restored peace as it should have been the way it started long time ago.

***

Aegon has just flew with Sunfyre and Little Egg with his own dragon. It’s a good time to do so and represents a unique moment between father and son.

When looking at this growing boy, who’s about to rise to Prince of Dragonstone in due time, Aegon struggles to see he’s no longer that toddler easily impressed with Sunfyre and his first time flying high.

“You are looking at me in a funny way”, says his son as they land and go back to their quarters. “Do you have news to share? Or is it the way I conduct…?”

“No, no. Not at all”, and here he pulls Egg under his arm, ruffling his hair and pleased to get him some chuckles. “I was just noticing that you are growing to a fine man and I am not ready to let that go yet.”

“You sound like mom”, and so typically he pulls a grimace.

“Your mother loves you as much as I do. One day you’ll have children of your own and you’ll see what I mean. As for news, did I tell you that your grandmother secretly remarried and believed no one would suspect she did so?”

The fourteen year old boy laughed loud. A sound that somehow is almost equal to his. Aemond smiles.

“No! I cannot believe my ears! Was she espoused by Ser Criston? But that man…”

“Shush. He’s your grandsire now.”

But the idea brings the two to joint laughters.

*

Aegon is all smiles when he’s with his girls too. After spending a while hearing Jaehaerys’s proudly progress in his studies, a deed that does impress him, he’s doting on his princesses too. You are already pompously dressed for the dinner when you find your husband hearing Jaehaera’s recent claimant in her dragon which she named Moonfyre because of the curious mix of silver and red scales.

A deed that did impress her elder sister and father.

“I know we have a great bond”, says the seven year old excitedly. “But…”

“But you are likely the youngest of our dynasty to have ridden a dragon! And all by yourself!”, and here Aegon cannot help himself and fuss over Jaehaera, who blushes pleasantly. “My little girl is getting me some headache in the future, I can already foresee it!”

“Well, she has so much of her father to be blamed on it”, you smile at him.

What a scene. Aegon joins you, not the king circumstances made him, but the grown man you loved since you could remember. When he tangles you in his arms and doesn’t mind being affective to you—“uuuuuugh” would tease the boys and even Jaehaera makes a grimace—, you know those wounds took time to heal.

Love prevailed over all.

As you’ve always believed it.

*

King Aegon II and his Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen were found dead in an embrace that would be turned into marble. Theirs is one of the longest reign, despite the early years of civil war.

Aegon II is succeeded to his eldest son, Aegon III, married to Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. Aegon’s Hand was his long time loyal cousin, Maekar, who wedded his sister Rhaella.

No more turmoils to be seen… for a long while. Dragons did die, as foreseen by Alysanne, who became Princess of Dorne in due time, but they also survived and prospered.

[marvelfilth]

Tattoo

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x f!reader

Warnings: drunk jenna ig

Summary: an unexpected visitor makes your evening unforgettable

Masterlist

You sigh as Judy, the girl who's back you've spent the past hours tattooing, disappears out the door and into the darkened street, her happy skips illuminated by the soft yellow hue of the street lamps. You don't know how she managed to sit or, rather, lay through the session, happily blubbering about her three cats and a dog waiting for her back home.

You shake your head and walk up to the small desk near the entrance. Amelia, the receptionist, has left just as the sun started to set, blowing you a kiss goodbye and thanking you for letting her out early, so you've been stuck managing your studio alone.

Looking at tomorrow's schedule you sink into the soft leather chair, relieved to see that your morning is free. You can already imagine how sweet it'll be to finally sleep in and have a relaxing start of the day.

Your daydreaming is cut short when the door opens again, and you open your mouth to ask if Judy forgot something, but snap it back shut when you realize it's not her.

You get up, walk around the desk and take a second to look at the stranger, who, inconveniently, turned her back to you.

Still, you admit, it's a nice back, clad in a soft looking black blouse tucked into dark jeans. Your drum your fingers on the desk and pointedly clear your throat, but the stranger doesn't pay you any attention. Instead she takes a few steps to look at the wall littered with various photos of your happy clients, and humms to herself.

"Sorry, we're closed," you speak softly, as not to startle her, but she still jumps comically high, one hand clutching her purse and the other flying up to rest over her heart.

She turns around, swaying, and squints at you, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in thought. You grip the desk behind you when you recognise her.

Amelia will die when she finds out who she so narrowly missed.

"D-do you know how to use this?" Her voice is hoarse, like she spent hours screaming at the top of her lungs, and her finger trembles when she points it at your tattoo machine.

She grins at your hesitant nod, stumbling as she closes spaces between you. "I want a dragon," she giggles, covering her mouth with her palm as if she's letting you in on a secret. "All over my back. A huge one."

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing when she gets close enough for you to smell the alcohol on her breath.

"You're drunk and we're closed," you say and her eyes dart down to look at your lips.

"What?" She mutters, and her hands go up to hold your cheeks. "Stop moving so much, I can't hear you." She pouts, still looking at your lips.

You snort and take her hands in yours, prying your face out of her grip. She shakes her head, and winces when the movement causes her to sway again.

You wait for her to look at you before you speak again.

"Are you here alone?" You make sure to say as clearly and slowly as possible, holding her hands to make sure she doesn't trip over her own legs.

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling. "Yes."

You tug at her hands. "You need to call someone to come pick you up."

She blinks and looks at you for a long moment, her eyes cloudy and pupils dilated. "No. I need a dragon," she insists.

You bite back a smile and lead her behind the desk. She falls in the chair with a content sigh, closing her eyes. "Melissa dared me to. I c-can't come back without a dragon," she mumbles.

You lean back against the desk, this time not able to suppress a chuckle. She opens one eye and kicks at your shin with her foot. "This is serious."

"I'm sure it is," you agree to appease the frowning girl. "You can come back when you're sober, and I promise you'll get that huge dragon all over your back."

You smile when she nods and reaches for one of the business cards laying in the corner. She slips it into her back pocket and fully relaxes in the seat, and you're suddenly at loss of what to do next.

Someone's supposed to be looking for her, right?

You turn to look out the window at the dark street, noting the lack of cars.

"You're pretty," she murmurs. "Like… I want to take a picture of you and put it as my lockscreen kind of pretty."

You snort, looking at the girl who's now staring up at you in awe. "Do you always put pictures of strangers as your lockscreen?"

She frowns. Her lips move, but nothing comes out.

You sigh, shaking your head, and get up to find your phone. You need to call Amelia, she will know what to do.

"I'm getting sleepy."

You pause. "You can't fall asleep."

"Mhm," she hums as her eyes close.

You close the space between you in short strides, but you're not fast enough. She's already snoring lightly when you reach her, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Great," you groan. “Just perfect.”

You fidget with your phone, unsure. Should you call Amelia? She will probably freak before figuring what to do with the sleeping girl.

With a sigh, you unlock your phone. It's not like you have any other options.

Just when you're about to press the call button, the girl slides off the chair, her butt hitting the floor with a quiet thud. You wince as the chair rolls away and her back meets the floor before you can catch her.

She doesn't wake. In fact, she curls up, hands pillowed under her head, and sighs in content. You snort, shaking your head. The sight is quite adorable.

“It- it would take-” she mumbles, deep in her sleep, “-a second to peel off the skin…” You gulp, before realizing she's probably dreaming about one of her characters, or practicing the script even in her sleep, either way it's quite impressive. “Limp for limb…" she mutters, frowning.

You sigh, and get a small pillow to tuck it under her head. Might as well make her a little comfortable while you figure out what to do with her.

“Um, hello?”

You jump up, praying that the girl is well hidden behind the desk, she is as small as a gremlin after all.

“Yes?” You turn around, only to be left gaping.

You're in the twilight zone, you're sure.

“I'm looking for my friend,” the woman smiles hesitantly, adjusting the hood of her sweatshirt. “A brunette, brown eyes, about this” - she lowers her hand all the way to her knees - “tall, a bit drunk. She ran away to get a tattoo.”

You shift on your feet, your mouth opening and closing while you try to come up with something to explain why her friend is currently sleeping under your desk.

“Yeah, she's here…” you mumble, jerking your head towards the reception desk. She frowns, stepping around it, and stills, before looking at you with wide eyes. “It just… happened.”

“She tried to kill me,” the sleeping girl says, very clearly.

“Really?” The older woman's eyebrow raises.

“No!” You yelp, looking at the smaller girl in betrayal. She didn't deserve that pillow. “She came in very drunk, and she fell asleep in my chair, and then she kind of… slid off?”

“Used… chloroform,” she mumbles, turning to the other side.

“Stop it,” you hiss to her sleeping form. “Shut up.” You lightly kick her leg with your toe to make sure she listens.

“Pretty,” she sighs dreamily, “pretty girl…”

“I take it you're the pretty girl?” The other woman asks with a heavy sigh.

You blush, nodding. “Not a serial killer, promise.”

She purses her lips, looking down at her friend. “She won't wake up now. She sleeps like a bear when she's drunk.” She looks up at you, eyes searching. “I’m Melissa, by the way. And that one is Jenna. But you already know who she is, right?”

You nod.

“Okay. Since there are no paparazzi around, I feel like I can trust you. For now.” She bends down, takes the sleeping girl under her arms, and lifts her up with little effort. “You get the legs,” she smirks.

You get Jenna out of your studio quickly and efficiently, like you've been doing it all your life.

“Getting rid… of the body,” she mumbles, when Melissa miscalculates and hits the side of Jenna's head against the headrest.

“Yeah,” the older woman cringes, “she's always like that.”

You nod, stepping away from the car as Melissa straightens her clothes, looking sheepish and hesitant.

“Thank you,” she says, “I really appreciate this. And she will, too, when she returns to the land of the living.”

You chuckle and bid her goodbye, waving at the car until it disappears from sight.

You decide you won't tell Amelia about this. She'll probably send you off for a psychic evaluation if you do.

[valentiyne]

𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 716 ❀ 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌

Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader Summary: Paper-thin walls and numerous noise complaints.

FULL BOOK: MIDNIGHT | L.R.H Warnings: None! Slight swearing if you squint hard enough Word Count: 2.8k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

Game Night was hosted every third Friday of the month. Cramped in the new tiny apartment, 7 friends and their significant others wound up on my shitty couch shouting nonsense at each other.

The living room consisted of the old couch, my TV on top of a cardboard box I hadn't quite unpacked yet, and numerous card games.

Holding the slip in my hand, I eye the timer in front of me on the makeshift coffee table My eyes scanned the paper quickly before jumping up and snapping my fingers, "Okay okay, it's born in the water but moves onto land when older."

My friends stare at me dumbfounded, their minds elsewhere as I furrow my brows and tap my feet numerous times. "Come on guys, it's what a tadpole turns into when it's older!" I'm practically yelling now, eyes darting between my friends sitting down and the tiny timer on the table.

"A baby turtle?"

"Andddd time"

I groan in annoyance, dropping the slip of paper while walking back to the spot on the couch, and plopping down with a huff.

"A baby turtle? Seriously?' I scoff, rolling my eyes at my friends who couldn't contain their laughter at my obvious annoyance.

"Okay I'll go nex-", My friend Abby was cut short by a knock on the door. It wasn't necessarily a pound, but it definitely made all of us go silent.

We all look at each other quickly, almost mentally counting everyone to make sure it wasn't an expected visitor.

I slide off the couch, my eyebrows raised for a moment before I walk towards the door. Standing on my tiptoes, I look through the peephole to see my next-door neighbor, Lucas, standing there with an annoyed expression painted on his face. I sigh and unlock the door, poking my head out with a smile.

"Are we too loud?", I ask with innocent eyes, my bottom lip tugged into my teeth as I speak quietly. Lucas gave a friendly smile, his eyebags hidden behind his eyeglasses as he turned to point at his door, "I know it's a Friday night but I'm really busy in the studio tonight... kind of hard to concentrate when there's a bunch of girls next door squealing over....?"

I finish the sentence for him, "If tadpoles are baby turtles." I rub the back of my neck shyly, laughing almost to myself.

"Right yeah, is there any way to keep it down just a tad?"

I give him a thumbs up before we part ways- him rubbing his eyes and kicking his door shut with his bare foot and me turning around and closing it softly. My friends all huddled up behind the door, eavesdropping on our conversation, and as soon as the door shut, they all squealed quietly.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n!", My friend Abby gushing, nudging me with her shoulder harshly. "You never told me you have huge chemistry with your neighbor?"

My eyes grow wide and my hands shoot up in defense, "Oh no- Lucas? He's just a neighbor"

All of my friends' eyes were on me now, and an awkward silence fell upon us. I give a mere shrug before walking back over to the coffee table to scoop up all the cards spawled across it.

"Game night at mine next time?", Abby asks from beside me, picking up the numerous cups with mysterious liquids in them with a disgusted look on her face.

I just nod in response, shoving the cards in their rightful places before sighing softly. We said our goodbyes with platonic kisses on the cheeks and dramatic waves before I was left alone in my apartment again.

It was cold, empty, and dead silent in here- completely opposite of the neighbor beside me I'd assume. My bedroom was similar to the living room- a tiny mattress rested on the floor and my toiletries were packed away in numerous boxes I was too lazy to unbox. My head hits the stiff pillow below me and I could hear Lucas in his bedroom strumming his guitar, humming to himself lowly.

It was a little after one o'clock in the morning, but he seemed to be wide awake singing.

"some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard"

It had officially been two weeks since the game night and two weeks since he came to my door. Lucas and I would occasionally make eye contact on the way to the mailboxes or even hold the elevator for one another- but not a single word was shared between us. He was always in his own world, his head bobbing to an imaginary beat inside his head.

Every night I could hear him singing to himself softly, the wall dividing our bedrooms was as thin as paper. The occasional groan and the sound of notebooks hitting the wall distracted me on nights I needed to sleep, but I never once said anything to him. He was a musician- and a very good one to say the least. I didn't want to be the annoying next-door neighbor.

I swing my door open, looking out into the hallway and scanning each door before finally averting my eyes to his own. The wrench in one hand was held on with a tight grip while the other hand carried the TV mount at my side. I could hear the sounds of various instruments being played from behind his door, his voice clearing every few moments to restart a lyric if it didn't sound right the first time.

The hand that held the wrench swung up, knocking on his door a few times before I took a step back and awkwardly looked around the hallway once again. The sounds from behind his door abruptly stopped and I could hear his heavy footsteps making their way towards the door now. Taking one more step back, I watched as Lucas opened the door and looked down at me,

"I'm sorry, am I being too loud?", He cheekily asked, a smile painted on his lips.

"No no, you're fine.", I laugh at his innocent teasing, quoting our most recent encounter. "I was actually coming over to see if you knew how to mount a TV", I poke my head around his figure and motion towards his apartment, "but seeing as you're busy-"

"I'm not busy." He corrects me, leaning inside his door to grab his keys before turning back towards me and grabbing the box from my hand. "Let me help you out, it'll take 10 minutes tops."

It didn't take 10 minutes. Hell, It didn't even take 30 minutes.

There Lucas and I both were, tools of various shapes and sizes sprawled out across my apartment floor and a cheap bottle of wine I found at the back of my fridge.

"Lucas are you sure you know how to-"

"It's Luke and yes, I know how to do this", he grumbles nonsense to himself as he flips through the instruction manual for the third time tonight. I sighed to myself slightly, trying to keep myself from laughing by taking a swig of the wine.

"Could always just use thumbtacks"

This makes Luke laugh, his eyebrows relaxing on his face and cheeks going bright red. He tosses the manual at me, and I put my hands up to defend myself.

"I'm pretty sure some thumbtacks couldnt hold a 35 pound Tv," He holds his stomach as he rolls around my floor, laughing loudly. I roll my eyes at this, groaning and tossing the screwdriver on the floor.

"Look, it's getting late. I'll just have you come over and do it another time.", I point towards the clock, which was held up with thumbtacks, that read two o'clock in the morning.

"Oh shit, sorry I totally spaced it," Luke stands up now, gathering up his tools quickly and giving me a crooked smile. "I'll swing by sometime this week to help you, I promise." I'm smiling now, shooing him out the door quickly.

"Yeah yeah see you later, rockstar", I tease and close the door abruptly, only to be stopped by a foot in the way.

"What are you doing tomorrow?", The way his eyes glimmered in the hallway light, his hair slicked back from sweat and cheeky dimples appeared as he smiled at me.

"I have finals tomorrow morning, and I'll probably be dead by the time its over- anytime after that I'm free.", I groan dramatically and push my palm into my forehead.

Luke just nods, freeing his foot from the doorway, and gives me a thumbs up, "I'll be sure to be quiet tonight so you can get your rest." I thank him kindly and give him a soft wave before closing the door behind him.

Luke was anything but quiet. I tossed and turned throughout the night, pushing the pillow closer to my ears as I heard him attempting to sing a lyric he wasn't even finished with. if there's one thing I've learned about him in the month and a half I've known him- he was a perfectionist. He sang the same things over and over countless times making sure it was absolutely perfect.

"Cause all these bodies are hoping to get addicted-"

I swing my arm up, smacking on the wall a couple times before groaning and letting it fall to my side once again. His side of the wall went silent immediately, the shuffling of papers and a small mumbled "sorry" was heard.

Luke had avoided me from that point forward: he didn't hold the elevator for me nor did he come and check his overflowing mailbox.

I found myself at his door once again, knocking in one swift movement before clearing my throat. I could hear him shuffling around his apartment, a loud thud followed by a "shit, one second!".

The door opens and a dripping-wet Luke is before me, a towel tightly wrapped around his waist. I blink a few times, holding my gaze above his shoulders out of respect.

"Why are you avoiding me", I ask in a monotone voice, cutting straight to the point. He raises his eyebrows at this now, one hand sassily on his hip.

"Who said I was avoiding you?", He chuckles lightly and opens the door wider, motioning for me to enter. My nose is filled with the smell of the oven baking something sweet mixed with his charcoal body wash. I step inside with a smile, closing the door behind me.

Luke wipes the water from his face and turns away from me, entering his bathroom for a split second, leaving me standing in his kitchen.

I glance around his living room: Pictures of his friends and family are hung up neatly on the wall, his instruments are laid out on the floor around his couch, and his bookshelf is overflowing with numerous copies of musical books.

He emerges from the bathroom once again, now clothed in a sweatshirt and basketball shorts and the towel that was once wrapped around his waist was now encased in his curls.

"I was just going to invite you over actually," He laughs again, flashing me his million-dollar smile before pointing at his dining table. It was decorated with a lace tablecloth, a small bouquet of flowers sitting in a glass-decorated vase, and a plate of steaming hot pasta was laid out. I smile to myself slightly, looking back up at him before taking my seat at the table, he rushes forward, scooting my chair in for me before taking his own seat across from me.

"What's the occasion?" I ask while picking up my fork, poking at the seafood pasta that was professionally plated. If you would've told me he hired a chef to make dinner- I would've believed you.

"I was loud on the night of your finals and I felt horrible knowing I kept you up all night", He picks up his napkin and places it neatly on his lap, "I wanted to make it up to you after I mounted your TV buttt you showed up a little early", He teases.

I take a bite of my food, groaning into the fork with a muffled giggle as my eyes look up at his. The food was amazing, and the flavor was intricately picked out to perfection.

Going back, this perfectly proved my point that Luke was a perfectionist.

We found small talk, conversing over what I was majoring in and what he was busy working on.

"So the album is almost done, I just need to finish this last song," He shrugs his shoulders and scrapes at the remains off his plate. I smile to myself, looking up now with innocent eyes, "Maybe I can help?"

He stands up abruptly, turning around and opening the oven to reveal the freshly baked brownies he had made- from scratch may I add. I groan in anticipation and rub my hands together dramatically. He grabs the brownies with oven mitts, turning around and facing me.

"If you want to help me, I'll allow it", he laughs and places the pan down gently and walks towards his living room, picking up a notebook that was previously thrown across the room.

"Here", he places it in front of me, removing my empty plate and walking

The notebook was written in barely eligible handwriting, with numerous words crossed out and mental notes scribbled on the sides.

Some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard so if I tell you, just keep it and don't say a word. when the doors are all closing.....It's bound to get ?? all these bodies are hoping to get addicted to

The rest of the page was scribbled out, lyrics that never made the cut. I snatch the pen from the metal spiral holding the pages together and click it once.

"it's bound to get.... loud?" I scribble it down next to the question marks and look up at him, scratching his chin with a nod. His cheeks were red now, the wine flushing through his body.

"What rhymes with loud?"

I look up at him now, as he scoots his chair right up next to me to the point our legs are touching.

"Cloud, hmmm,"

"Sound," we both say in unison.

Luke claps his hands together and grabs the pen from my hands, opening the notebook to a new page and scribbling down the new and improved lyrics. I watch him closely, the way his eyes twinkled and dimples poked through when he was concentrating.

I was so screwed. I was falling for my next door neighbor.

I didn't see him for another two weeks, his side of the wall seemed eerily vacant and completely silent. I even knocked a few times in hopes he'd knock back in some sort of rhythm, but there was no response.

Hearing the knock on my door shot my body out of bed, sweat dripping down my neck and sides. I groan and tap on my phone to check the time, blinding myself in the process. The pounding never stopped, not until I stumbled out of bed and opened my door. My heart skipped a beat, praying that the blonde would be on the other side with that cheeky smile I adored.

"Hello?", I ask in a groggy voice whilst rubbing my eyes and squinting up at the person who disturbed my slumber- at 2 a.m. may I add.

Instead of a person, I was met with an empty cold hallway. I avert my gaze down and towards my door mat. There, set up neatly was a bouquet of flowers with a note tied to the front with white lace.

I smile at myself and crouch down, picking up the thoughtful gift and looking down the hallway one last time before kicking my door shut.

Y/n,

I'm sorry I didn't see you before I left. Our album releases at 2:30am today and I was supposed to leave at 2... I just knew I had to leave you something on my way out. I hope you like the flowers I picked out my mom helped me.

I'd have probably sent you the link to the album by the time you finish reading this note.

I'm going to be all over the world, touring and doing what I love. I can't wait to be back home and see you again, i'll make sure to facetime every change I get.

love,

your rockstar

I could hear the familiar ringtone from my bedroom, alerting me that Luke was a man of his word. I wipe a few stray tears and make my way to the bedroom, snatching my phone up with my free hand and clicking the link he had sent me.

This is the song I spent the last 3 months working on, keeping you tossing and turning until finally you perfected it.

Mp3.ifwallscouldtalk.demo

[girlboypersonthingy]

Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Make-Up Sex w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: now that i feel better, though still albeit exhausted, i'm now literally running, jumping, fucking skipping to get caught up because somehow october decided to actually speed run its own month like the hell???

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Being with Dean Winchester was challenging at times, because no matter how much he trusts you or how good things really are, he's always expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. Even if sometimes he is the metaphorical rug.

You've had many arguments before, but none of them have hurt like this. You often found yourself in bed alone, usually because the boys were out hunting or catching up on lore, and you were honestly okay with that because duh— they were saving the world! But, sometimes you missed having some cuddle time with your boyfriend, but apparently he did not feel the same.

When you came to peel him away from whatever article he was reading on the computer, he snapped at you, saying some things that were very unnecessary. It had sent you back to bed angrier and more hurt than you had ever been before.

It only took a few minutes of harsh silence before he came stomping down the hallway and into your shared room. You didn't dare move a muscle, remaining on your side with your arms crossed and glare settled on the wall in front of you.

He took a moment to kick off his shoes and shuck off his flannel before shuffling into bed behind you, a heavy hand resting on your plush hip that was covered by the duvet.

"Sweetheart…" He began. "Go away, Dean." You said coldly, unravelling your arms to shove his hand off of you. 

"Look— I'm sorry." He rasped quietly. "Could've fooled me." He sighed. "I— didn't mean what I said, I'm just… tired. This case has been whoppin' me and Sammy's ass." He explained. "I just wanna catch this thing before it kills anyone else, and I ended up taking my anger out on you and you didn't deserve it," Dean took your body relaxing as a sign to be able to spoon you. "Fuck, honey. I'm sorry."

You chewed on your bottom lip thoughtfully. A part of you didn't want to give in, but the other part acknowledges that Dean never apologises unless he really means it.

"You really hurt my feelings, you know?" You whispered meekly. "I know baby, I know." He murmured into your neck.

You basked in his closeness, in the strength of his arm wrapped around your softened midsection. You shivered when you felt him place gentle kisses onto the exposed skin of your neck, the arm holding you pressed your back harder onto his chest.

"Let me take care'a you." He said seductively, his palm slipping up to cup your braless breast. You whimpered at the feeling, but nonetheless grinded back on his growing bulge as he stimulated your nipples.

"Please." You breathlessly begged. 

He was quick to turn you on your back, lips slamming down on yours. He devoured your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your pajama shorts. He groaned lowly at the fact that you had no panties on.

"Was this what you were gonna give me to make me feel better?" He asked with an amused smirk painted on his lips. Your skin flushed but you nodded shyly. "If it would have helped you, yeah." You confessed sheepishly. "Can't believe I was such an asshole to my sweet girl." 

His fingers teased your damp folds, sliding a finger between them to collect your slick before prodding at your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat, a small whine leaving you as he joined your lips together once more.

It was as though he was trying to destroy you from the inside-out. His strong fingers worked your entrance open, the man slipping in a second finger. Your legs twitched around his arm, loud mewls passing between the both of you whenever he'd hit your g-spot. 

You pulled away from your spit soaked kiss to cry out. "Dean, baby, 'm gonna cum!" 

He slipped in a third and final finger. He twisted his wrist torturously, his thumb reaching up to rub furiously at your clit. Your hand gripped desperately at his wrist, holding it to your body as you desperately rode his hand. 

"There you go, sweetheart. There ya go." He talked you through your orgasm. "Dean… Dean…" All you could whimper was his name.

"Fuck." You heaved after taking a few moments to catch your breath. "You okay?" He asked gruffly. You nodded your head, your own fingers tangling themselves up in his spiky hair. 

"I need you in me." You said as you cradled the back of his head. "Don't know if I deserve it." It sounded as if the big bad Dean Winchester was actually pouting! 

"Ugh, just c'mere." You said with a grin, tugging your boyfriend over your body. "If you don't fuck me, then I'll be sad again. How does that sound?" You asked playfully. "Not good." He murmured with a matching grin.

He was quick to take off his jeans, practically falling over himself to get naked as you finally stripped yourself of your own as well. Both of you were as naked as the day you were born by the time he had his cock lined up to your entrance.

His tip teased your clit, which caused you to whine in displeasure. "Dean…" He chuckled lightly. "Sorry, honey." 

With his hands on either side of your head, he entered you, your head falling back in pleasure at the feeling.

"Jesus." He groaned. "Feels so good, baby." He praised. Tiny whimpers left you as he bottomed out, sheathed all the way to the hilt as your velvety walls fluttered around him selfishly.

"Shit! Please move." You begged. 

Dean would be damned if you had to beg for fucking anything tonight. Pulling out slowly, he slammed his hips into yours. A loud smack! Resounded throughout the room, a choked moan slipping out of you.

"Ah!" His tip brushed against your g-spot pleasurably. Your nails dug into his back as he pounded into you, holding onto the older man for dear life as he continually stretched you out.

Your velvety walls sucked him in greedily, like they were practically trying to keep him inside of you. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach tighten continuously, a feeling that Dean had made sure you were familiar with for the past years that you've been with him.

Your pussy burned with overstimulation as you neared your end, and it made it harder for Dean to move in and out of you.

"You gonna cum, baby?" He asked through gritted teeth. "Y— yes!" You stuttered. "Cum for me then, sweetheart." Your hand slipped down to rub at your clit hurriedly, your back arching at the overwhelming feeling.

"Fuck!" You swore as you came, your chest pressed against Dean's. One of his arms held himself up as the other stretched over your back to keep your plush upper body anchored to him as you rode out your high.

"Holy shit." You gasped, your chest heaved with each quick breath you attempted to take. 

"Best apology ever." You said with a hazy laugh.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Tired Sex

Prompt: You wake up to Zoro coming in late and slightly drunk. To tired to fully wake up but more than happy to help him.

NSFW

Roronoa Zoro X Reader

You woke up to some stumbling in the dark. Sighing a bit as you shift over in the bed to allow room for Zoro. Lifting your head a bit to allow his arm to go under you as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. “How were the drinks?” Your half-hearted question mumbled out of your drowsy mouth as he squeezed you close.

         His lips were in your hair, he attempted to say something but it was too slurred and muffled to truly be heard. Although you did notice when he hips grinded against your ass, the obvious hardness pressing against you. “Yea?” You ask, meeting the subtle grind with your own push back into him. You hear him grunt while the hand around your waist grips your chest with vigor, squeezing and pulling as if his life depended on it.

         Your arm wraps around, dusting over his hips that were still rotating into you, finding the band of his briefs, before dipping to hold into his skin directly, fingers lightly squeezing the taught skin. You extend your neck just enough to invite him to start kissing along your jaw. “Do you want something?” You tease, thrusting back into him for emphasis. He growls at you but doesn’t respond as his hands move to your own underwear, tugging twice at the band before twisting to rid himself of his briefs.

         You follow suit, your ankle getting caught enough for you to kick your leg out a couple times, your own clothing being tossed somewhere in the dark room. He returns to his position, pulling you close to him again, this time his cock brushing against the skin of your ass before slipping between your thighs. One hand on your hip while the other was at the base of your neck, pushing your back to angle you down.

         You allow him to move your body, one of your legs lifting and wrapping behind his own legs that were firmly pressed against you. The tip of his cock barely brushing against your entrance that was more than willing to accept the intrusion, if only it could make its way inside.

         “Zoro” Your groan out as his haphazard thrust misses the needy hole again, his hand wrapping around your thigh, pulling you open just a little more before trying again. You let out a frustrated moan before reaching between your legs, grabbing hold of the throbbing member attempting to lead it to the sweet release your half-asleep mind is looking for.

         Instead, Zoro thrusts into your hand, his fingers digging deeper into you. “Be patient you bastard,” You hiss out, rotating your hips until he’s placed perfectly, sinking back just enough to feel his tip enter you. A satisfied sigh seeps out of your lips before a surprised moan escapes your lips, eyes popping open as he buries himself in you.

         “My needy little slut~” his slurred words sink into your ears before he pulls out, slamming back into you. Your hands grip at the sheets before he twists the both of you. Now pressed into the mattress, his elbow supporting himself next to your head while the other brushes down your back before lifting your ass to meet his thrusts better.

         The pressure felt amazing, yet your sleepiness left your head groggy. Moaning out Zoro’s name making him go faster while he stares down at you twitching body underneath him. You glance behind you, twisting your head around to make out the shadow that’s illuminated from the moon coming in the window. His low moans and heavy breathing hitting your ears.

         “Turn.” The single command as he pulled out had you twisting to lay on your back, your legs arching to either side of him as he quickly slides back into you.

         “Z-Zoro” You moan out, knowing you were too tired to jump of the edge entirely. Your walls clenched around him that felt great, but there was no building, no release in sight as you continued to gasp out how good he felt. After more than enough time you realized he wouldn’t let up. Sleepy sex was amazing, but you were still tired, wanting to return to the darkness of dreams. “I want you to cum~” the moan left your lips as you clenched your ab muscles, wrapping your legs around him entirely while tensing your thighs.

         You knew it wouldn’t truly convince him, but you dream like state had hoped he was drunk enough to believe it. You could barely make out a smirk on his face as he grunted out your name, asking if you were ready. Nodding your head as you put the back of your hand to your mouth, rotating your hips to help quicken his release.

         You arch your back slightly as you feel his thrusts get more wild, letting out a final moan as you twitched your lower body around him. Zoro pulls out just in time to paint your entrance with his seed. He stares down at his artwork, glancing at your breath steadying itself. He reaches for the side table, grabbing some tissues to clean you up before he plops down on his back.

         You turn, your legs extending across him as you lay your head on his chest. More than pleased that you can close your eyes while listening to his heart beat, letting it lull you back to sleep. And arm underneath you and wrapping around your back, keeping you close to the relaxing body, “I’m waking you up tomorrow.” The soft murmur of a threat hits you before you drift fully into sleep again.