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valyrianvibranium · 1 year ago

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SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other.

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant.

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids.

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting.

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after.

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either.

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for.

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men.

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company.

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it.

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North.

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.”

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl.

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more.

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders.

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks.

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said.

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move.

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words.

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room.

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground.

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace.

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss.

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips.

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence.

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you.

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown.

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately.

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders.

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet.

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one.

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing.

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame.

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him.

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat.

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs.

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin.

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady.

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you.

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact.

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl.

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss.

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him.

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time.

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion.

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination.

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back.

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood.

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead.

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you.

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting.

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame.

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans.

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.”

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you.

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more.

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him.

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping.

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return.

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice.

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you.

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face.

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence.

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

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heartsiebyul · 13 days ago

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Hii what about jamil and kalim (separate) having A HUGEE crush on gn!reader!!!💕💕

how Kalim and Jamil act when they have a huge crush on you.

featuring — Scarabia : Kalim : Jamil x reader.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・・୨୧

☀️ Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim having a huge crush is like being caught in a sunbeam that doesn’t let up.

He’s obsessed—in the most open way. Kalim doesn’t even try to hide it. He lights up like fireworks when he sees you. He waves from across the courtyard like it’s a royal parade, calling your name loudly and excitedly: “(name)!!! You look amazing today!!”

Gives you gifts. Constantly. From shiny jewelry to random things that made him think of you, Kalim just keeps giving. “This flower reminded me of your smile!” “These sweets are your favorite, right?” He’s like a love-struck puppy with a billion-dollar budget.

Physical affection central. He hugs you. A lot. If you even breathe near looking tired, his arms are already around you. If you seem upset? He grabs both your hands and looks at you with big, worried eyes. He doesn’t even realize how touchy he’s being until Jamil sighs in the background.

Talks about you constantly. To Jamil, to the other dorm members, to strangers at the market. “Oh, (name) would LOVE this color! Did you know they write poetry? They’re so cool—” And it never stops.

Would confess in a heartbeat… and maybe he already did by accident. He blurts out things like, “I think I love you—wait! I mean, I love hanging out with you! Haha! Unless... you’d want me to say that for real?”

🐍 Jamil Viper

Jamil having a huge crush is… complicated. And exasperating. For him, anyway.

Internally panicking 24/7. Jamil is the king of suppressing feelings, but you short-circuit that system every time you laugh, speak to him, or smile his way. He’s constantly clenching his jaw, muttering to himself under his breath like, “Why are they so... ugh.”

Steals glances like his life depends on it. He’ll act like he’s focused on his work, his food, anything but you—but his eyes always drift toward you. He memorizes how you style your hair, the way you tilt your head when you're curious, your laugh. And if someone else makes you laugh? He clicks his tongue and looks away.

Avoids you to protect his own sanity. He’ll make excuses not to be around you too much because he knows he’s dangerously close to slipping up and actually being vulnerable. His excuse to himself is always something like: “I can’t afford distractions.” But the way he lingers near your favorite spots around campus says otherwise.

Small acts of care, extremely subtle. You forgot your water bottle? Somehow, there’s one on your desk, chilled. You’re late to class? He somehow "happened to be passing by" and "reluctantly" walks you there. But he’ll grumble, “Don’t get used to it.”

Absolutely hates how much he likes you. But he also holds onto every interaction like treasure. When you say his name, he replays it later while pretending he’s not smiling.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・・୨୧

#twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst disney #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanon #heartsie જ #kalim al asim #jamil viper

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loveshotzz · 6 days ago

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Party 4 U

steve harrington x fem!reader // situationship

🎶 I was hopin’ you would come through, it’s true, it’s true, I only threw this party for you.🎶

summary: Steve hasn’t returned any of your calls the past two weeks, but Harrington never misses a party.

word count: 4k

warnings: 18+ heartbreak (I mean it’s based of party 4 u and also a little bit of my personal life), emotional cheating kinda, the classic I have to let you go because you don’t realize you’re in love with someone else trope. a little self destructive self aware delulu at the end. kissing. drinking and smoking. also lots of Eddie! 🎸

authors note: my first full fic in over a year 💕 i missed you guys and i hope you enjoy it.

With only a few more weeks of summer left. Everyone in Hawkins was chasing the last bit of those 9 pm sunsets and the freedom they bring only three months out of the year, which made convincing your two roommates to throw a last minute party easy. In fact you were so casual with it, they didn’t even notice the way your canines dug themselves into the skin around your nail bed the moment they both squealed ‘yes!’ in the kind of excitement that would usually be contagious, because who doesn’t love a house party?

Steve Harrington lives for a good house party.

The boy they had warned you about four years ago when you first moved to Indiana, the former king of Hawkins high, and now the current king of Hawkins Community College. A crown that he wears begrudgingly, but a crown with privilege nonetheless.

In fact the warning was so intense, you heeded it like your life depended on it, even when all the stories seemed far from the goofy guy you’d pass in the hallway or see laying out in the courtyard with his fast talking, daily nail color changing best friend, Robin. You stayed strong when he started saying “hi” on your daily passes to class flashing you his perfect pearly whites in jeans that fit him a little too tight. You even held it together when his big hand would spread out in a wave across the lawn in an effort to catch your gaze. His mossy green eyes lingering just a little longer on your thighs whenever it was warm enough to wear shorts no matter what animated thing his best friend was saying.

But at the beginning of May when you stumbled into your house at the crack of dawn after an end of year party with tequila fresh on your breath and his teeth marks decorating your neck, they had to warn you again.

’Everyone who grew up here knows he’s always going to be in love with Nancy Wheeler.’

’He’s never going to leave Hawkins, and you’re moving after college.’

’I think he’s probably dated or asked out every girl in this town at this point. Do you really want to be added to that list?’

Two weeks ago, you couldn’t wait to tell them how wrong they were. That you weren’t the fool they warned you’d become. Not when you’re falling asleep under the stars with him, a blanket that had been shoved in his trunk laid out while your heavy lids win under fingertips that trace the warmed soft skin of your face from a day out in the sun on the lake. You couldn’t be, not when you woke up to sleepy hazel eyes at the crack of dawn and that messy mane of hair at the top of his head somehow even more chaotic than before with a slow lazy smile pulling up at pink lips that constantly beg to be kissed.

There was no way something that feels like this would just go away with a couple hundred miles in between it when the time had to come.

But, that was two weeks ago, and multiple unanswered calls later.

You can start to hear the bells on your jester’s hat beginning to jingle in the distance. Taunting you, just like the sound of his voice mail but you don’t dare to tell them.

Strawberry pink skies bleeds into a dark plum as the setting sun kisses the tops of the swaying trees outside, the chilly breeze that only reveals itself at night in Indiana hits your sticky skin in a welcomed reprieve from the open front door. Anxiety tickles at your subconscious, while glittery fingertips tug at the bottom of your short dress, soft thighs sticking together underneath the thin cotton fabric despite the temporary chill. You’d been standing at the top landing for longer than you’d care to admit, eyes scanning the crowd of rowdy college kids for any signs of him.

Your house vibrates with the energy of twenty something’s on the cusp of the rest of their life, all mega watt smiles and blushing cheeks thanks to the keg Eddie Munson set up in the backyard next to the pool. A kind gesture and a ploy to get with one of your roommates, you just didn’t know which one because he actively flirts with both. It didn’t matter to you tonight, because your new mission was to get that joint you knew he had tucked behind his ear long forgotten since hiding it there before he left the trailer park, because the idea of Steve not showing up has you gnawing at your bottom lip so hard it might bleed.

Making your way through the crowd, there’s an anger that simmers just below the surface and you’re not sure if it should be directed at yourself for letting him get under your skin, when you should’ve known better. Or if maybe, he should take the blame, because the lack of communication on his end comes with realizations shrouded in the kind of sadness you’re not equipped to handle yet. Still, you look for him, smiling and nodding at a few people that you recognize zig zagging through the makeshift dance floor all the way to the kitchen.

At any party, you can always find Eddie Munson by the cheap bottle of tequila, a beer in hand and unlit cigarette dangling dangerously at the edge of his mouth debating peoples music taste. Which typically is annoying for everyone involved but it’s perfect tonight because not only do you need a shot to go with your much needed THC, he needs to finally smoke that cigarette, and whoever he’s trapped needs to be saved.

“There she is! I thought you locked yourself away in your tower for the night.”

The metal head grins wide enough to see his signature dimple poke the side of his cheek when you walk in, and sure enough that Marlboro red is hanging on for dear life. Heather Halloway sees this as her escape route and quickly shuffles out, she is a big New Kids On The Block fan and you know he can’t stand them.

”Thought about it,” you shrug with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, “pour me a shot?”

Eddie studies your face long enough to know something is off, so he pours you a double in a red solo cup instead.

”That’s funny cause, I heard this party was your idea.” He arches a brow, offering you the shot with a hand decorated in chunky silver that catches in the fluorescent light.

”Maybe.” You play nonchalant, downing the whole thing without warning or time for him to give you any kind of chaser which you usually demand with a look of disgust on your face any time you catch a whiff of alcohol.

”Jesus Christ.” Eddie huffs, finally knocking the dangling cigarette from its resting place but his reflexes are still quick enough to catch it, “not maybe, that’s literally what I was told when I was invited.”

”Ooo which one invited you?” You tease, making his cheeks turn pink.

”That’s neither here nor there sweetheart,” He tries fighting a grin before forcing a serious look on his boyish face, “what’s going on here? What’s wrong with you?”

Your stubbornness kicks in, giving him a shrug staring down into your empty red cup, not wanting to reveal all your pathetic cards just yet.

”Pour me another one,” you sigh, finally meeting his big brown eyes, “and then I’ll tell you.”

Eddie contemplates the idea of telling you no because he’s a firm believer of not drinking when you're sad but, he also thinks about the consequences of actually telling you no. So he pours you just a single, in which you down just like the first one tossing the empty solo cup in the trash with a small burp before pointing to the joint behind his ear.

”Also, I wanna smoke that.”

The metal head looks confused for a minute before his eyes roll up towards the joint he had indeed forgotten about, a realization that makes his lips curve up.

”You’re needy tonight aren’t you?” He teases with every intention of giving into you, the nicotine in his fingers calling his name “to the bonfire we go then.”

Goosebumps pebble across the skin that’s not lucky enough to be warmed by the flames in front of you, but the big inhale of your first hit that fills your lungs does what the fire can’t do. The temporary rush to your head settles the anxiety that’s been clawing at your chest for days and you relish in the relief for a little bit before finally confessing your secrets to Eddie under the starry night sky.

”It’s Steve.” You say simply, defeat evident in the way you roll your shoulders back and take your second hit.

”Harrington? Wait, you two are a thing?” He practically chokes on the smoke of his Marlboro.

”It’s new-ish, I mean since right after graduation.” You shrug, desperately trying to come off as nonchalant, refusing to meet his eyes.

”Three months? You and Harrington have been bumping uglies for three months and I never figured it out?!”

“Eww Eddie! You are making me regret this, oh my god.” Embarrassment sets your cheeks on fire, and you take another big hit to get rid of it.

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Raising his hands in surrender, the smirk that pulls up his full lips makes you want to punch him, “just not what I was expecting, I mean, good for you. I’ve heard…things.”

”EDDIE!” You huff standing up, smashing the burning end of the joint into the brick surrounding the bonfire, putting it out.

”Sorry! Sorry! Don’t go, please I’ll stop!”

He does his best to sound serious in between small giggles, metal bound fingers grabbing your wrist to stop you from leaving. Your desperation to finally talk about it has you forgiving him quicker than usual, but not without a glare and a heavy roll of your eyes, before you flop back into your chair.

”I can’t stand you.” You complain with a cross of your arms.

”You love me.” He grins, clearing his throat, “so, what’s going on with Steve?”

For some reason hearing someone else say his name makes the dull throb in your chest ache just a little more. Swallowing your pride, you even contemplate re lighting the joint before confessing, but ultimately decide against it.

”I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. I’ve called him a few times, nothing, you know, crazy or anything, but I’m getting pretty familiar with his voicemail.”

You hope that Eddie can’t hear the bitterness in your tone, the anger from before starting to bubble again.

”That’s weird, I literally just saw him yesterday at Wheeler’s house. They’re moving Nancy out, and he was helping everybody. He seemed fine, I mean I’d even say a good mood.” He says casually taking a long drag of his cigarette, not realizing that he just confirmed your worst fear with two simple sentences, punching a hole in your gut.

It’s too late for damage control when realization dawns on Eddie quickly adding in a panicked, “Jonathan was there too!”

But that part didn’t really matter, everyone who’s familiar with their history knew that.

”Umm, I’m uh, glad to hear he’s doing good. Not hurt or like, kidnapped.” There’s no hiding the crack in your voice, and you refuse to meet the pity in Eddie’s gaze that you can feel burning a hole into the top of your head.

”Hey, I’m sure it’s not like tha-“

”EVERYONE JUMP IN THE LAKE!”

Eddie’s attempt at easing your worries falls on deaf ears, both of you jumping at the sound of Patrick McKinny’s very loud exclamation, followed by an even louder round of cheers as most of the party starts running down from the house in a blur of clothes tossed into the air along the way. Conveniently ending your conversation with Eddie at the perfect time.

‘Everyone who grew up here knows he’s always going to be in love with Nancy Wheeler.’

“I’m gonna go with them, thanks for the joint.” You don’t wait for him to answer, getting up and quickly blending in with the crowd, before he can stop you.

The heartbreak tightens in your chest and restricts the air flow to your lungs, the corners of your eyes stinging because how could you be so wrong? How could you be so sure that you were the exception to the Steve Harrington rule?

You blink back tears nearing the edge of the lake, haphazardly kicking off your sandals, letting the soft waves lap at your toes, before taking a shaky breath finally lifting your eyes. The lake is full just like the people swimming in it, water splashes accompanied by playful screams and the kind of smiles that glow under the silvery moonlight. Carefree chaos orchestrated by you, but somehow you’re the one with heavy shoulders, and a broken heart. A plan that was doomed from the start, a truth you knew deep down after day two of his radio silence.

The water is colder than you thought it would be, but you don’t let that stop you from continuing deeper, only getting used to the temperature once you’re waist deep. A shiver runs down your spine, and you plug your nose before throwing all caution to the wind fully submerging yourself. Because who cares at this point?

It’s quiet under the water, and the party that surrounds you becomes muted in the peaceful darkness and it feels like you can finally slow your thoughts down for the first time since Eddie opened his unknowing mouth. Folding your knees you let yourself sink deeper, the soft cotton of your dress clinging to your curves like a second skin. You extend your arms out, spreading your fingers, feeling the soft water between them, letting the gentle currents soothe you. Cursing your need for oxygen, you ignore the screaming of your lungs for as long as you can, basking in your solitude for just a few seconds longer before planting your feet on the rough sand beneath you pushing yourself back up.

It’s almost jarring how loud the party is when you breach the surface, wiping the water from your eyes, you notice how many more people jumped in after you. It makes you wonder just how long you were actually under, especially with the way every deep breath you take stings in your chest. Pushing your hair back, a twinkle in the stars catches your gaze, craning your neck, you try and get a better look. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you pick your feet up, letting the lake cradle your back. Floating. Weightless. Just like you.

The sky expands the more your eyes adjust, and it’s easy to get lost in its beauty just like your thoughts that come racing back. The sadness that you feel now, you know is a temporary kind of pain, because you had a whole life before Steve, and you’ll have another one after him. But it all hurts just the same, mourning the part of you that day dreamed the summer away about a future that might include him too.

’He’s never going to leave Hawkins, and you’re moving after college.’

It’s not Hawkins, that Steve won’t leave. It’s Nancy. He’ll wait here till her inevitable return when her new life with Jonathan implodes in on itself because anyone with eyes can already see the cracks in their foundation. He’ll help her pick up the pieces of her broken dreams and meld himself into them with her new ones. Everyone else between now and that fated moment is just here to pass the time. Practice for the main event. You’re just a visitor in Steve’s long path to the one that got away, whether he knows it or not. There’s a part of you that’s not so sure he even sees it yet, because putting her first has always just been second nature.

The thought is enough to ease some of the anger, but sadness just fills in the gaps, making the corners of your eyes sting again. It takes you a minute to hear it, too lost in your own head to realize the man that’s consumed every waking thought is calling out your name. Your reaction is stalled, heart racing because your plan actually worked after all of this. Your toes find the sand, pushing yourself back up onto your feet, and you hate that you meet his gaze almost instantly. Eyes locking together like two magnets searching for each other, and the smile that pushes up his cheeks makes your chest tighten and not in the way you’ve grown so fond of.

He waves excitedly like he hasn’t just dropped off the face of the earth the past two weeks to help his ex girlfriend move. You wiggle your fingers just barely above the surface and you know your smile doesn’t meet your eyes. He’s either too far to notice or is completely oblivious because the shine of his pearly whites doesn’t falter while he lifts his shirt over his messy bed head making you suck in a sharp breath, and another one when his jeans hit the grass too.

Of course Steve Harrington is coming to unknowingly stomp all over your heart some more in nothing but his underwear.

His skin looks tanner than the last time you saw him, which you didn’t think was even possible this far into summer. The patch of hair on his chest that drives you crazy is a dark contrast to the bronze he glows under the moonlight. His long fingers nervously card through his hair while he adjusts to the water temperature walking towards you trying to play it cool like he didn’t need extra time, and it’s almost enough for the corners of your lips to twitch.

“I was looking for the prettiest girl at the party,” he flirts like he just kissed you silly across the console of his car last night, “and Eddie told me she was in the lake with everyone else.”

Steve winks, looking for the eyeroll he usually gets in response to his relentless cheesy passes, but he gets nothing but an awkward half smirk, and that stupid smile on his face finally falters.

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Concern twists his handsome features, finally closing the space between you, water lapping at his waist straightening up.

Honey.

The anger from before finds its way back, warming your cheeks, and you look up at him between slanted eyes, doing your best to ignore the bergamot and amber that threatens to envelope you.

“It’s weird hearing you say anything besides ‘hey you’ve reached Steve, sorry I missed your call.’”

His face drops, catching the hurt that’s wrapped around your words, guilt making him unsure of what to do next, trying his best to read your body language despite most of it being hidden from his sight under the dark water.

“Look, I know I sucked at calling, but I swear I wasn’t doing anything but helping the Wheelers. Nance is moving to New York with Jonathan -“

”I don’t really care what Nancy Wheeler is doing Steve.” You bite, watching him flinch, satisfaction swelling deep in your gut.

“I just lost track of time, we did so much -“

”You didn’t talk to me for two weeks. What am I supposed to think about that? That I wasn’t even a thought in your head, I wasn’t even worth you sparing five minutes. You don’t even see how wrapped up you are in her do you?”

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally do, and Steve can’t help himself, swiping them away with the pad of his thumb before cupping the side of your face in the palm of his hand that almost swallows you whole.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, but you refuse to meet his gaze, “I’m here now, I came here for you, I showed up here looking for you, to see you.”

He bends down, doing his best to get you to look at him, but you hold strong because you know that you won’t be able to fight how good it will feel to be with him tonight after wanting nothing more for the past few weeks. Even if you know it’s not the forever that you wished for, the one you were silly enough to daydream about despite knowing better. With just two months before your chapter in Hawkins is set to end, the thought of walking away from him while you can still have him is a different kind of torture you weren’t prepared for yet, one that would be easier when you’re miles apart. Not while he’s pleading for you now.

”I can fix this, I can make it up to you.” He whispers, gently tugging at the bottom of your chin, doing his best to coax you to lift it and meet him halfway. “Come on baby, let me.”

He can’t fix a problem he doesn’t realize is there, a truth he’s not ready to admit to himself yet, but you’ll selfishly let him have it this time because when you finally meet the emerald and gold in his eyes, you want to believe he can too for right now.

”There she is.” His smile is warm, just like his touch pulling you closer by the hip when you lean deeper into his palm. “I’m sorry. I really am, baby. I’m here now though, let me make this okay.”

You don’t trust yourself not to cry if you try to give him a response, so you don’t, encouraging him silently with your hands flattening against his chest instead. Glittery fingers getting lost in coarse hair, deciding to memorize this feeling while it still exists. The sounds of the party drown out for the second time as he bends down, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, asking for permission that you grant with the slightest tilt of your head, letting him kiss you dizzy like this isn’t the end.

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 1 year ago

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OH IF IT ISNT MY FAVORITE COUPLE

7.10.24

#like this video is EVERYTHING #first coles little ow #Trevors automatic laugh #cole dropping the phone #like the amount of times I’ve watched this is embarrassing #like maybe Kay was right maybe I need her to rescue me #cole and trevor my loves 💕#my lil bi' baby 🏳️‍🌈#my lil short king

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nabikyu · 8 months ago

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@sonadowtober day 12: role swap

Basically, Shadow is dragged to Camelot instead of Sonic and meets King Arthur and his knights. They are in front of Misty Lake.

In short, lansoni swaped

Inspired/based on this piece made by @silvermun

I had work writing this, so i'm sharing: a little bit of the process

Sadly I will not be able to make content for all days, but I'm happy that I could at least send this one 💕 There's some that I lost the day, but I still wanna do it cuz the idea that I had sounded really cute in my head

#my art #sonadowtober #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sth #shadow the ultimate lifeform #sonic #sth fandom #satbk #sonic and the black knight #satbk king arthur #sketch #shadow #sonic the hedgehog fandom #satbk au #arthadow #<- edit: now i know this ship has a nome lol

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gtgbabie0 · 11 months ago

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Aegon Targaryen x Wife!reader

Synopsis: {The upcoming war has brought a great stress upon you which causes you to go into an early labour}

!CW!//blood, premature childbirth// Enjoy lovelies💕

The days following Aegon’s coronation were nothing short of exhausting, the mornings dragged and the nights were sleepless. The new king found himself in over his head with the only solace being you, someone who has stubbornly been there for him since childhood.

There was a familiarity to your warmth and kind words of encouragement, you were his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions and he latched onto that never willing to let go. Always checking up on you and the babe inside your womb with worried eyes.

In turn, you had done the same, constantly seeking him out when horrible thoughts of the brewing war were all that plagued your mind, leaving you paranoid and constantly on edge.

You were each other’s anchors in ways that you both never thought possible.

The afternoon sun drips through the clouds, casting warm orangey rays through Kings Landing and across the Red Keep, bathing your shared bedchambers in a comforting light.

It is supposedly meant to be peaceful, or that is what Aegon thought when he practically demanded for you to stay in bed. Yet it has proven to be much more stressful, the books and cross-stitching doing nothing to distract your mind from what lingers over the horizon.

You have taken to pacing the length of the room, much to the dismay of your maids who watch on with panic in their eyes. A few of them had prompted you to sit down, trying to sway you with tea and sweet cakes but you waved them all off with a frown, desperately trying to ignore the dull pain that was beginning to grow in the small of your back.

You refuse to believe that your baby is arriving, it is far too early, yet you can hear the Maesters voice in the back of your mind telling you how ‘stress is not good for the babe’.

“Your grace, please take a seat.” The youngest of your maids try once more, daring to step forward to you with careful footing as if you were some sort of scared deer.

At her words you shake your head, turning your back to her with a small sigh, your fingers pressing against your lower spine and your other hand resting against the swell of your belly.

“Where is my husband?” You demand, turning back to face the women whose eyes never leave you.

“The King is attending a small council meeting, he shan’t be long, your grace.” Her words do nothing to calm the way your hands tremble nor the thoughts that race through your mind, despite how soft her tone is.

You purse your lips together tightly with a sharp inhale as shooting pain rips through your lower abdomen, causing you to hunch over slightly, grasping onto a chair for support.

You can hear the women behind gasp, saying something about blood but it all seems like distant noise almost as if you were underwater. There is little you can do but groan in pain, finally allowing your maids to guide you over to your bed.

You know something is deeply wrong, having already been through this once before. But that was extremely different, your mother was there even Aegon who stood speechless in the corner of the room with wide eyes… Gods you were both so young then, it seemed like a memory that wasn’t yours.

Now you are alone, save for the Maesters and Maids who are frantically trying to keep your temperature down with damp cloths, water dribbling down the side of your temples as you lay in fear.

You push yourself up onto your elbow, resting up on the mountain of pillows, letting out a strained cry at the feeling of an agonising pain that cramps up your abdomen causing you to fist the bedsheets beneath you.

The sound of your bedchamber doors slamming open catches your attention, but only for a brief moment before collapsing back down against the bed with a stomach-churning cry.

The staff around you don’t dear to try and turn Aegon away, especially when his eyes darken at the sight of the blood stains on your chemise and bedspread, a heavy look of terror masked behind an anger that sends a chill through the hot room.

“She is bleeding— why is she bleeding?!” He shouts, demanding an answer from the Maester who is trying to coax you to breathe deeply and then push.

His demands are met with silence before Orwyle steps away from the bed where you lay, squirming in pain. The maids and nurses all rush together, trying to guide your breathing through your clenched teeth.

“The babe is breeched your grace, coming feet first.” Maester Orwyle says, casting his eyes down to the floor with a troubled expression.

The sound of your agony echos within Aegon’s mind sending his thoughts spiralling far out of his control, the helplessness of it all eats away at him making his hands tremble with frustration that he can’t do anything to help you, to take you away from this damned situation. His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking anywhere but at you as if he was trying to find a hidden answer to save you from this nightmare.

“Well, then why are you still standing here? Do something, help her!” He shouts, slamming his closed fists down upon the wooden table as he watches the Maester scurry back to the bed.

He stands there frozen, his breathing ragged suffocating on his own emotions. He wants the throw things, and curse the gods, the mother and the warrior because where is mercy and strength as you lay there in this torment?

“Aegon…” the sound of his name leaving you so weakly, the hushed word that is strained in desperation tumbling past your chapped lips hits him square in his chest, almost flooring him in shock.

His body moves on its own, practically collapsing onto the edge of the bed with his brows pinched together and his glossed-over eyes looking down at you. He wants to help you so bad but the only thing he can do is stroke your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“Do not leave, stay here please,” you plead through gritted teeth, looking up at him through your bleary sight.

“I am staying… I’m right here.” He tells you firmly, the back of his fingers caressing your warm cheek gently. The cool metal of his rings keeps your eyes from falling close, fighting the fatigue.

He watches you intently, every twitch of your face only sends him further down into this maddening spiral of despair and frustration. “You’re doing so well… keep going.” He whispers, brushing his thumb over your hot cheek.

Aegon doesn’t move from his spot beside you, allowing your hands to tighten harshly around his own each time your body is wrecked by a contraction. He takes one of the damp rags from the maids, dabbing it against your chest and face in hopes of soothing you, even if it is only for a mere second because he cannot… he will not sit there doing nothing.

“We must sit her up,” Orwyle says through the sounds of your screams, resorting to the last possible option.

“What will that do if not cause her more pain?… I will not have her suffer more than she already is.” Aegon retorts with a deep frown, his words stern and laced with worry.

He was extremely stubborn and firm, even more so when the matter was about you. Never letting you leave from his side let alone out of his sight any longer than needed and even then he made sure at least one Kingsguard was standing behind you at all times.

“It is noted that movement helps set the babe correctly, your grace.” His words do very little to calm the maelstrom of dread that wraps around his heart and chokes him up. “Unless you wish to leave her in the hands of the gods…”

Aegon’s eyes meet your own for a very brief moment, the gods have already failed her, he thinks.

“No… no sit her up.” He agrees, looping his arm around your shoulders and pushing you upwards as you demand and scream for him to stop, fingers digging into his arms as you call his name weakly.

The hours that you were in labour for the Red Keep was still, silently waiting on bated breath for news of you and your babes' wellbeing. The echoes of your screams and pleas were the only thing that could be heard even from all the way down in the kitchens.

It was the hour of the owl when you finally made the final push, sinking back down against the pile of soft pillows. “Congratulations your grace… a boy,” Orwyle announces as your son wails making his presence well known. The maids swaddle your son up in a clean blanket before placing him gently upon your chest.

You take deep laboured breaths, your eyes heavy with exhaustion as you look down at your son. He was tinier than the twins when they were born, so much more delicate, his breathing weaker.

Aegon was completely stunned, he doesn't know what to say or do, instead, he simply watches you and the way cradle the baby’s head ever so gently, greeting him with a soft kiss on his forehead.

He had seen this before but yet he still feels as if his heart might just leap out of his chest. An overwhelming feeling of pride bursts through him leaving him all teary-eyed and soft smiles.

“He’s beautiful.” Aegon finally breaks his silence, his voice thick with indescribable emotions. The words don’t do your son justice, the little ball of pureness that is cuddled up against your chest. He can’t believe that something so precious… so innocent could be half him but the shape of his nose could attest that, he was Aegon’s.

You nod softly, brushing the back of your finger across his cheek as you admire him. The rest of the world seems to disappear, the maids cleaning up around you turn into white noise, and all you can focus on is your boy.

“Would you like to hold him?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from all the crying and screaming that was so worth it for the price of this feeling of contentment that has washed over you.

He holds back a sharp response that his hands were too rough, too clumsy. The last thing he wanted to was hurt him, he was already so tiny. You can see the look of trepidation that passes through his amethyst eyes, he was hesitant.

Your fingers slip between his own, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t hurt him Aegon, I promise.” You tell him, melting away all of his persistent worries that had rooted themselves into his heart.

With a small, almost nervous, nod of his head, he pulls the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows before you place the newborn babe in his arms, his heart stops for a small second, the breath in his lungs completely gone and all he can do is marvel down at his son.

“You’re amazing…” he whispers, voice steeped in reverence as he casts his gaze down to you as if you were some sort of deity to worship. You had nurtured a life and now here he is holding that very same life, it completely astonishes him.

You chuckle at his words, lifting your hand to rest against his cheek ever so gently. He leans into the warmth of your palm, pressing a soft kiss against your wrist. “He’s ours Aegon, yours and mine.” You remind him with a weak smile.

It’s a simple word, ours. But the way you say it with such emotion, with no hesitation, leaving no room for doubt to plague his heart made him happy. So happy.

“Ours,” Aegon repeats, brushing the back of his fingers across his son’s cheek ever so gently. “Maelor…” He smiles, testing the name softly before looking back down at you as you nod in agreement, repeating the name lovingly.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

The following days were slow, quite a nice change of pace especially with everything that had been happening. You sit, leaning back against the velvet cushions of the chair, with Maelor in your arms as you wait for Aegon and the twins.

“Remember, you have to be gentle and quiet,” Aegon says, walking into the bedchambers with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera at either side of him.

They both let go of his hand before rushing over to you with wide curious eyes, looking down at their new sibling with excitement.

“Can he play with us in the garden?” Jaehaera smiles, looking up at you.

“Not just yet my sweet, he’s got a little growing to do before then.” You tell her softly, brushing her curls behind her ear.

“Am I allowed to read to him?” Jaehaerys asks next, his hand grasping the armchair as he leans over to look down at Maelor.

“Soon, let’s give him time to settle first.” He nods at your words and soon enough they’re both asking question after question.

Aegon stands behind you, his hands massaging your shoulders as you answer the twins with a patience he admires. The sight fills him with a sweet warmth that bleeds through him, his heart full of love. Perhaps the weight of the crown isn’t so bad if it’s for you four.

Dad Aegon as he deserves.

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juletheghoul · 7 months ago

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a/n: The premiere look was a literal gift from the Gods, truly fantastic stuff. With that said, of course I had to work on the next chapter of The General and his Girlwife. This isn't the end for them, there is still so much life for them and I have a whole inbox full of amazing asks (I promise I haven't forgotten about them!) to get through, and I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy because he's a KING, lactation kink, creampie, Marcus gets emotional, pregnancy and baby stuff, childbirth and some graphic descriptions of pain, talks of infertility, **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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The ritual had been completed, and a week later–life had gone back to normal. The two of you had vowed to put it out of your mind until the Gods made their intentions for you clear.

Marcus, however, was leaving; he'd been called on by the Emperor for a tour, and he had no choice but to accept.

You pouted, and he smiled.

“It is only for a short time, my love. Barely a moon's turn and I will be back in this house, and your arms.” He smiled despite your obvious displeasure, giddy with the way you clutched so greedily at him.

“I wish to follow you Marcus, I do not wish to stay here without you.” You buried your face into his neck, taking in his comforting scent greedily. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding him close while his own wrapped tightly around your waist.

“And I wish nothing more than for you to be with me, but you cannot. It is not a place for women and I would not have my beautiful,” his hands cupped your cheeks, pressing kisses to your mouth between words, “lovely, tempting wife there pulling at my attention, as well as that of the bolder men in my company.”

You sigh, knowing he would not change his mind.

“Very well. I will content myself alone.” Your tone made him laugh, and you smiled into his skin, well aware that you sounded more akin to an unruly child than a grown, married woman.

“You are spoiled, terribly misbehaved and spoiled.” His hands slipped down and grabbed at your backside, “and it is entirely my fault.”

“Yes it is.” You jut your chin out and he pressed a kiss to it. “When do you leave?”

“Preparations are being made and I depart in three days time.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your hand, smiling as he led you to sit with him. “Once I am back, I shall plan something for us. How does that sound?”

“And what shall you plan?”

“We could travel, we could go to the sea and take in the fresh air, we could do anything my love. Whatever makes you happy.” His eyes shone with the same love you felt in your very bones for him.

“I only need you for that.”

The intensity of the craving made you frown, pulling your attention from the task of refilling the cellars of your house. One minute you had been taking note of how much grain there was, how much olive oil and wine was in your stores and the next, the desire for figs and honey and fresh, ripe pomegranate was so strong it almost moved your feet towards the kitchens. You stopped yourself though, running through your mental tally of days since your last blood and willing yourself to stay calm.

“Girl, be a dear and fetch me figs and honey if you would.” You pat her hand softly, unable to stop yourself from softening the imagined blow of asking for something instead of fetching it yourself. Her eyes widened for a moment, before nodding.

“Yes Domina.” She ran off, and you ignored the looks of the women who were helping you with your accounts.

“Shall we call for a Medicus, Domina?” The eldest of them whispered in your ear, one who has always treated you with a softness that at times felt motherly, her work roughened hand landing soft on your shoulder. Nerves fluttered in your belly, a deep seeded fear threading through your very being as the memory of your loss filled your mind's eye so vividly it set your hands to shaking. But another emotion emerged, a fragile thing coloured with a hope so big it didn’t fit within your body. Without Marcus, it was difficult to navigate the swirl of different feelings fighting for dominance.

“Domina, let me call for the Medicus.” Gently, she guided you to sit, silently dismissing the staff tending to you. “I think it best you rest while we wait, I shall have him brought here to look you over.”

“Yes, yes that is what we must do. I—yes I should rest a while.” With a shaky breath you smiled a smile that did not reach your eyes, and headed towards your chamber.

When the medicus finally did arrive, the older woman held your hand, doing much to calm you in the absence of Marcus. Silently the man went about his business, checking and prodding and looking for the signs that you tentatively prayed were there.

When he raised his head and smiled with a nod, both you and the woman cried with joy.

He was eager to step foot in his house, eager to be reunited with his heart.

His blessedly peaceful campaign had gone well, the Emperor was in good spirits and for the first time in years, there was peace. He couldn’t wait to tell her how it had gone, couldn’t wait to press his kisses upon her skin.

The house was surprisingly quiet when he finally arrived, the guards were hushed, his usual attendants were nowhere to be seen and his love was not where he thought he’d find her.

When he reached their shared room things were stranger still, the gauzy linens were drawn across the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Incense was burning, and for a moment he feared she’d fallen ill while he’d been gone.

“My love? What is the matter?” She reclined in their bed, propped up on a nest or pillows, and her face lit up to see him. She was glowing, a soft sheen shining on her brow and for a moment he thought it might be a fever but she looked well, she looked beautiful.

“I am well Marcus, truly.” She beckoned to him, arms outstretched and he all but ran to her side, sitting close to hold her hands. “We have been blessed, my love, truly blessed.” Tears shone in her eyes, he frowned for a moment until she placed his hand on her belly, and then it felt like his heart would jump out of chest.

“You are sure?” He brought his face to her womb, pressing his lips to it while trying not to fall apart with joy. “Truly?”

“It has been confirmed, I am with child. You are to be a father, Marcus.” She shone with life, with vitality and was as beautiful as a Goddess, he couldn’t handle the joy in his heart. He wept into her belly, thanking the Gods, and praying for the health of the love of his life, and the child inside her.

Every single day of those first few weeks greeted you with fear.

Every free minute, every spare thought was filled with silent prayer, offerings were made to appease the Gods, you ate only the foods suggested by the Medicus. Marcus let you do nothing except rest, and take short, slow walks throughout the house. He was thorough with the instructions given to him, he rubbed the special oil onto the skin of your belly to help with the growth, he never left your side, he was gentle in all things.

Once you started to show, and the most dangerous period had passed, even you started to shed some of the fear. Hope, and joy filled the house and everyone shared in it. The women were eager to have a little one running around, Marcus grew more and more excited at the prospect and filled your house with things for the child. Toys and a special chair, robes and little tunics to dress them in.

“Have you thought of a name?” You asked him as he rubbed at your tired feet, easing the ache as your stomach seemed to grow before your very eyes.

“I have, but I haven’t really given any option much thought. It is best to wait until the child is born I think. And you? Is there a name you favour?”

“Well, a boy would definitely be named Marcus after you.” You smiled, imagining a miniature of him.

“And for a girl?”

“We could honour the Gods, name her Diana, I also think Aurelia is quite pretty, or Acacia and name her after her father.” Your smile grew, imagining a little darling with his soft waves, his square feet.

“Fine choices.” He smiled, moving to the other foot and you sighed, soothed by his touch.

“I will pray for a boy, to carry your name and carry on your legacy.” He shook his head.

“Give me a clever girl with your eyes, and your smile and I shall be happier than any other man alive.” He pressed a kiss to your shin. Tears sprung to your eyes, it was happening a lot of late, the baby made your emotions run rampant, his sweetness didn’t help.

“There there my love, no tears.” He soothed with gentle tone, well aware of your sensitivity, yet still as patient and loving as always.

“I cannot help it, the joy is overwhelming, the love for you, for this little being is too much to fit inside me.” You held your belly, tears falling to dampen the skin of your chest. He moved to sit beside you, and gathered you into his arms, once again soothing you beyond words could explain.

“I understand, I have been so blessed in this life it is difficult not to dwell and fear the worst. Let us just enjoy our good fortune, no more tears, it pains me to see you cry.” He pressed his lips to your forehead and you nodded silently, throat aching with emotion.

With a tenderness that only made the ache stronger, he kissed the tear stains on your skin, smiling softly. When he got to your mouth, it was a reassuring press, a silent promise to you and to the life growing inside. It helped, but your mood, your appetites changed like the winds these days and the tears turned to desire for him so fast it made your head spin.

Your tongue breached his mouth, corrupting the softness of his kiss and pulling a groan from somewhere in his chest. His hand pressed softly to your womb, while his mouth claimed yours in the softness of your shared bed.

“Marcus-” It came out half moaned, half pleading.

“Yes my love?” He breathed the words into the skin of your neck, his tongue mapping out the lines he liked to travel with his kisses, unsurprised at how quickly your passion for him was stirred with the child inside.

“Do you desire me? Do you wish for me to give you my cock?” Slowly, he exposed you, pulling the special tunic made to accommodate your belly off. The large swell, the heavy weight of your breasts, the swelling in your feet–all of the changes in your body had made you fear he would no longer find you desirable. He’d been quick to correct that assumption however.

With your lip caught between your teeth, you nodded.

Carefully, he turned you on your side, supporting the weight of your belly with pillows and linens before divesting himself of his own layers. The sight of him, skin golden and cock hardening turned your cunt to liquid. He smiled at the open desire on your face, positioning himself so he straddled the thigh resting on the bed, while lifting and holding the other, lining himself up at the mouth of your cunt.

“Are you comfortable?” Your heart swelled for a moment, smiling at him before nodding.

He took himself in hand, stroking a few times to bring himself to full mast before finally sinking in to the hilt.

“So wet.” He whispered almost to himself, eyes focused on the way your cunt swallowed his length whole, coating it in your arousal. “My pretty little wife, with her pretty little cunt.” His fingers gripped at your thigh while he found his rhythm, angling himself to find the spot–

You keened, gasping as he huffed out a satisfied laugh.

“There it is, that is the spot, yes?” He focused, hitting it like a bullseye while you clutched at the linens, too blissed out to answer but it mattered not, he knew. Sweat beaded on his brow, the muscles in his arms gleamed in the low candlelight as he panted out his exertion. His beauty so obvious, so highlighted there as he loved you that it filled the little space in your belly not filled with his child with the beating of butterfly wings.

Your fingers reached out to him, needing to feel him surround you and he smiled, leaning forward to catch the tips of them with his lips while his hips moved faster. Your arousal pooled at the base of him, soaking the fine patch of hair between your legs, as well as the curls at the base of his cock.

With a crooked grin, he reached between your legs to swirl his thumb around your swollen clit and the climax is so close your legs start to tremble.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Marcus–” It was so close, building like a fire in your hips, spreading like lightning throughout your veins, dripping from where you were joined onto the linens of your bed. Your hand crept down, joining his to press his fingers closer, to guide his movements faster until you burst around him, squeezing him so tight he groaned and slowed his steady thrusting to a grind, his groin pressed tight. Your cunt fluttered around him, pleasure blooming and flooding your body like good, strong wine and it only intensified when he started moving again, chasing his own end while you floated on your cloud. It only took him a few thrusts before he filled you, fucking his seed deep.

His chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, smiling and laughing softly as he pulled himself out.

Your combined passion smeared against your hip when he surged forward to claim your mouth in a kiss. His big hand curled around the curve of your neck softly, such a contrast to how it gripped your thigh. It slid down, smooth as silk before squeezing at your breast.

“Oh!’ The warm drip shocked you, the milk beaded at your nipple before dripping down the valley between your breasts. The bigger shock though, was how quickly he chased it with his tongue. The arousal only flared again, sharp as a knife at the moan he let out. With an almost drunk expression, he wrapped his lips around the peak, and tasted your milk straight from the source.

“Good?” Your fingers threaded through his sweat-soaked waves, cradling him close while he drank deep. His expression was almost sheepish, almost ashamed when he pulled away.

“I do not know what has come over me,” He licked at the tip, staring at the other breast longingly, “I had to taste you, it’s so sweet.” He dipped his head again, drinking from the other breast, deep, strong pulls that only made the red hot coal of desire within you burn even brighter than before. When he pulled away he was breathing hard, shocked at his own reaction.

“Did I hurt you?” He licked at sensitive peaks again, filling your brain with a fog of lust so strong you could barely think.

“No, not at all, it feels really good.” You pulled him closer, urging him to drink, while guiding his hand between your legs. With a knowing grin, he obeyed.

You knew from the moment your eyes opened in the morning, that the baby would come. There was an ache, a pulsing, a violence to its movements within your womb. The child was as impatient to emerge, as you were to give birth and finally have it whole and healthy in your arms.

With a sigh, you tried to adjust yourself, smiling as Marcus pressed himself closer in his sleep, his big hand holding the swell.

“I think today is the day, hmm?” You whispered to your belly, it kicked hard enough to make you wince.

“Gods above, I felt that one, this child will be strong.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling another sigh from you. “How are you feeling?”

“I think it will be today, it feels like the baby has moved lower.” You did your best to rise, groaning before he all but lifted you to sit upright.

“I will make the preparations, the midwife is ready and waiting for our summons.” He rose quickly, making you laugh with his urgency.

“Peace Marcus, it will not be right this second, but I do feel it mightl be today.” You stood, gingerly padding towards him, waving away his frown of concern. “Walking is good for me, it will help me with my labours.” He still frowned, meeting you halfway and squeezing you as tightly as he could without causing you pain.

“I will be with you, at your side the whole time.” There was a small tremble in his voice you did not recognize, a nervous aura about him that seemed to bolster you. How curious, you thought, that his moment of fear, is my moment of courage.

“The midwife and her attendants will be there, most men wait until the child is born–”

“I am not most men. I will be with you, holding your hand and wiping at your brow. This is a battle I cannot fight for you, but no one will keep me out of that room.” He pressed his face into your neck and you softened, his fear was justified. Many children did not survive their coming into the world, many mothers died alongside them. You said nothing, nodding softly as his fingers dug into your robes.

The sun made its way across the sky and as it did your pains grew stronger. Cramps painful enough to steal your breath would squeeze at you like a fist for a few minutes before releasing you. The midwife walked with you, she took note of how much time passed between each attack, readying the birthing stool as well as her oils, her sponges and enough water and linens to be able to tend to both you and the baby.

The sun was kissing the horizon when the water came, spilling all over your feet like a tidal wave and sending Marcus into a cold panic.

The midwife did her examinations while your body ripped itself in two. With barely contained screams, and sweat dripping down your brow you got into position, doing your best to focus on your breathing while Marcus kept his word, silently wiping at your brow, and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you could.

“It must be now, push.” The midwife and one of her girls were in place, moving your robes aside to have access and you did what you had to do. You pushed.

It was agony.

It was liquid fire burning its way through your body, this baby wasn’t being born, it was clawing and tearing its way out of you.

Marcus whispered into your ear, encouragingly, lovingly, patiently guiding you to breathe, to not give up. He reminded you how strong you were, how loved and how soon it would be over. How could it be over soon? It felt as though this pain had been with you at your own birth, all of your life this pain has been here, it had to be. Hours, days? You could not tell how long it had been.

You cried, you begged for it to end, you willed it to be so; shouted and screamed that it hurt too much, that it was too hard and that you could not do it. You told them that the baby would not come, that you could not do this, you were not strong enough. You screamed that this would surely kill you, you would tear in two and die.

“You will not die, you can do this, my love. Bear down, and push.” His gaze was steely, focused and firm and it filled you with courage.

With a sob and a scream you pushed, and pushed. You pushed so much you thought you’d burst and then pushed more still. Until finally, blessedly, the baby came out.

“You have done it! You have done it my love, my beautiful, strong, courageous girl, you have done it!” Tears were in his eyes as he held onto your limp form, but he was not looking at you.

“Why does the child not cry?” It felt like you’d drunk too much wine, the relief from the pain so great you would faint soon, yet still, silence. There was a lot of movement, a terrifying moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity and despite Marcus all but carrying you and laying you back to rest, no one met your eye.

“Answer me, Marcus, why does the baby not cry? Give it to me! Is it a boy? Is it a girl?” Tears flowed and fear swelled like bile crawling up your throat until a cry loud enough to hurt your ears sounded and the entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“She is a beautiful, healthy and whole baby girl.” Swaddled and screaming, the bundle was placed at your breast. Marcus sobbed, openly and loudly into your shoulder, his big hand covering her tiny head while you looked at her in awe. She had so much hair, such strong lungs, such a force that you laughed, still crying.

“Yes my little love, I know, you fought so hard.” You pressed a kiss to her little brow, doing your best to soothe her.

She took to nursing your breast quickly, a good sign the midwife said and while she and her girls set everything to rights, you could focus on nothing but her. Her little hands clutched at you, taking a few greedy pulls before falling asleep, milk smeared all over her perfect face.

“She is utterly perfect, she has your hands.” Marcus lay beside you, his gaze on her as though entranced.

“She has your hunger.” You smiled, the euphoria eclipsing everything. It was so hard to stay awake though, the birth had taken so much out of you.

“Give her to me and rest. I will be here with you.” With gentle hands, he took her, managing to put her onto his chest without waking her and before he’d even fully settled, sleep had claimed you.

She had fought, both of them had.

His girls had battled, fought tooth and nail and had come through victorious, though his love had paid a price. She’d bled, bled enough that it had frightened him, chilled him to the bone and when the midwife pulled him aside he already knew what she would say. There would be no more children, another birth might kill her.

He mourned the fact that his daughter would have no siblings, no other children to fill this house alongside her but his wife would live. That was all that mattered.

He watched her as she slept, glowing still, if a little wan, weakened by her labours but beautiful all the same. He could no longer imagine living this life without her, he could not see the joy in anything without her there beside him and now his daughter held the other half of his heart. She was the fruit of their union, she was the parts of them that would live on, the living embodiment of his good fortune and just the sight of her filled his eyes with tears.

He pressed his lips to her little brow, smiling at the furrow in them when he jostled her, so like her mother it made him cry all the harder.

This was all that mattered, his entire world was in this bed and he was loath to ever be separated from them again.

He didn’t know which name to call her, they’d never settled on anything. Acacia didn’t seem right, how could he name her after himself when she so resembled her mother already? Aurelia, that was pretty, Diana too. He would wait though, let her have the last say. He basked in the glow of the candles, in the comfort of his wife’s warm weight beside him, in the small weight at his chest and said another silent prayer in thanks.

She was so big already, three whole months and her growth never ceased to amaze you. She still looked tiny in her fathers arms, his broadness compared to her small body always made you smile, especially because for her he was less the brutal Roman General, and more of a soft, lump of honey. She ruled him implicitly, her every cry, her every happy sound was the reason he breathed.

“My love, I need to change her, those little robes are covered in milk.” There was no bite in your words, there could be no anger or annoyance in you at his adoration of her.

“Yes, yes you are right, she must be changed.” He smiled, bringing her to you. She was tired, yawning and fussing, fighting off her midday slumber with a fierceness that made you laugh.

“Yes yes I know Diana, one moment and then your father will rock you.” You cooed at her, making quick work of the change and taking the opportunity to wipe her down with a damp cloth before returning her where she slept the best, her fathers chest.

Once he took her and sat at his favoured chair, she was out, little fist curled under her chin. This was his favourite, and yours. Watching her sleep peacefully, safe and loved within your arms, or his.

“I never grow tired of studying her, already her little face is changing.”

He pressed his lips to her head, breathing in the clean, baby milk smell of her.

“She will have your hair, already it curls when I wash it.” You thread your fingers through the fine wisps of it softly, smiling to imagine her older with curls flowing down her back.

“She has your look, your look exactly. I am still in awe that we have created something so perfect.” His hand took yours and brought it to his lips, you bent to press yours to his forehead.

“As am I, how blessed we are to have her, to have each other.”

When he slipped into bed, you pressed your fingers to your lips, eyes wide to warn him.

“She is finally asleep, we must not wake her.” Your whisper was frantic, and he nodded.

“Yes my lady, I will be silent as the grave.” He pulled you close, whispering in your ear before pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

“So long as you can keep your voice down when I love you.” His hands pawed at you but you were so tired, it was hard to reconcile the intense want for him, with the ache of the day settling heavy on your bones.

“My love, my mind desires this, but my body is so tired.” You pouted at him, mildly upset to deny him.

“Shall I use my mouth? You can lay back and relax, I can take care of you—my lovely girl deserves pleasure, and rest.” He smiled, undeterred and you could not help but smile.

“And it does not bother you that I will just lay here? Most likely asleep before you have come up for air?” His grey waves were so soft when you raked your fingers through them.

“It pleases me to please you, you are the mother of my child and the love of my life, I would do anything for you.” He kissed your fingers before spreading your legs wide with the breadth of his shoulders. “Do you wish for me to stop?” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and then the soft patch of hair at your mound, before kissing the lips of your sex.

“No, I do not wish for you to stop.” You spread your legs a little wider and his smile grew bigger, letting a big glob of his own spit fall onto your sex before chasing it with his tongue.

He is focused, honed in with his gaze and with his tongue on your clit, flat wide licks from where your arousal drips up to the bundle of nerves and it’s like a spike of arousal pierced the very heart of you every time he swiped his tongue over it. Warm, wet and perfect, he swirled around it in time with your heartbeat, fanning the embers burning in your belly for him.

The fingers that softly scratched at his scalp, now curled into the waves holding him in place as you struggled to keep your mouth shut, but he made it so difficult. The ache building as his brow creased with concentration and his own excitement. His own hand crept down and grasped his cock, stroking at it in time with the delicious circuit of his tongue. That he gained so much pleasure from this only heightened your own, and soon the knot tightened.

Muscles clenched, all of your body a taut string waiting to snap with every pass, every strong lick. You pinched at a nipple, pulling his eyes up to find yours and he let out a low groan, the vibration of it pushed you over the edge with a silent gasp, and empty rhythmic clenches around nothing. He bestowed a final, filthy kiss to your overstimulated clit before moving quickly to get into position. With the shine of exertion glinting on his golden skin he knelt between your legs, pumping at himself furiously before silently, violently spilling onto your still fluttering sex. Hot, milky splashes of him covering it while he gripped at your thigh hard enough to bruise.

He caught his breath, smearing himself in his own mess between your legs past the point of discomfort. He was so beautiful like this, with the flush of passion lighting up his cheeks and his ears, spreading down his chest.

He smiled, winking at you before he grabbed the cloth from the basin and cleansing the mess he had made. You wanted to hold and be held by him, but by the time he was done, you were already asleep.

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