#should not be very pleasant at this temperature

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD & FLORENCE PUGH

at the Valentino Womenswear Spring/Summer 2024 show as part of Paris Fashion Week on October 01, 2023 in Paris, France.

The fanning please!

[corroded-hellfire]

I've got this image in my head of very pregnant!AYW reader sitting outside with her feet in a kiddie pool, letting the older boys splash around and keep her cool on a hot day. Maybe a cooler full of frozen treats at her side.

I have had this one in my ask box forever because I wanted to write something I’d be happy with and I think I’m there lol. I hope it makes you happy as well 😘

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Of course. The August that you’re seven months pregnant is the hottest summer Hawkins has had in over fifty years. Of course.

Eddie could see how the heat was getting to you. Sweat would dot your forehead just moments after you’d step outside. Your ankles had swollen to almost double the size. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you were a little more irritable than usual as well. But your husband wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. Usually, his way of comforting you included wrapping you up in his arms but the one time he’d attempted to do that you’d given him a death glare that blazed hotter than the weather. He’d learned his lesson after that: no touching when the temperature is above a hundred degrees. 

One early Saturday afternoon, you and Luke are eating lunch while Eddie and Ryan run a few errands. Luke had wanted to go too, but ever since you started your third trimester, Eddie didn’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet between you and your ten-year-old son when the back door bangs open, making you jump and swivel around in your seat–which was no easy task. Perspiration runs down Eddie’s forehead, Ryan’s own golden brown hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture. Patches of Ryan’s gray shirt are black and clinging to his skin from the sweat. If Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt weren’t so dark, you know you’d see the same thing on him. Despite how hot and sweaty they both look, they both have smiles on their faces and Eddie looks quite proud of himself.

“I f’ought oo were goin’ to da store,” you say around a mouth full of pasta salad.

“We did,” Eddie said, breaths labored.

“And we set up a surprise for you!” Ryan adds, his beaming grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“And me?” Luke asks optimistically, craning his neck to look over at his father and brother.

“Actually, kind of,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Come on.” Your husband waves the both of you over towards the back door before remembering he should help you up out of the chair–even though you’re capable of doing it yourself. 

The boys both run ahead of you as Eddie stays back with your waddling pace. It feels like no sooner than your bare foot hits the grass of the yard than sweat begins to break out along your hairline. You swear you’ll never complain about the winter being too cold again. 

“It’s small,” you hear Luke say. 

Your eyes catch on the short inflatable kiddie pool set up in the middle of the backyard, two white and blue striped lawn chairs set up beside it, and a large red cooler between them. The garden hose is hanging inside the pool, the green tube writhing like a snake as the water whooshes in to fill the empty space. 

“Cause it’s a kiddie pool, duh,” Ryan replies to his brother. 

“I thought,” Eddie starts, reaching up to rub your shoulders before catching himself, not wanting to make your discomfort worse, “you could sit out here with your feet in the nice cold water. Might help your ankles, too. And you know these two monkeys are always splashing so you’re bound to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Hey,” Luke protests, but Ryan nudges him with his elbow because they both know that their father is right. 

“And…” Eddie takes your hand and gently leads you closer to the chairs, where he opens the cooler that’s nestled between them. Inside there are different flavors of ice pops, ice cream bars, and cold drinks, all enveloped in gallons of ice that have a pleasant chill wafting off them. 

Words become trapped in your throat. Your wonderful husband did all of this for you just because he knows how the heat has been making you feel lately. And after you’ve been a pain in the ass. This would’ve made you emotional even if the hormones didn’t beat you to the punch. 

“Eddie,” you say, all other speech cut off as your bottom lip begins to wobble.

“Uh oh,” Luke whispers.

“No, could be a good thing,” Ryan mumbles back quietly. He was slightly better at understanding the emotional aspect of hormones than his little brother. 

“This is so sweet,” you say, turning to cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“You’ve been hard at work cooking that bun in the oven,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Oven needs some cooling down though, she’s getting overheated.”

“Ahem,” you hear from behind you. Ryan moves into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to look at him, sliding your hands down to Eddie’s shoulders as you do. The eldest brother is clearly holding something behind his back, and you scrunch up your brow as you look at him.

“Whatcha got?” you ask.

Eddie huffs out a small chuckle and presses a kiss to your temple before saying, “Ryan found something at the store he says is on every ad for the beach.”

“You bought me sand? The ocean?” you tease the boy.

Ryan rolls his eyes, another reminder that he’s a preteen now. 

“No,�� he says. From behind him, Ryan brandishes a floppy hat, and he is certainly right—a woman is wearing one of those in every ad for the beach.

“Ryan, I love it!” you exclaim with a giggle. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you waddle over the few steps to the boy. He holds the straw hat out to you, a bright grin on his face at your happiness. 

“You know,” you say as you accept the hat from him, “I’d bend down so you could put it on my head but then I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.”

“Like crowning a princess!” Luke adds as Ryan laughs.

“Well,” your husband says, coming up behind you, “it’s a good thing I’m taller than Ryan then, huh? Or we could’ve just made Luke help you back up.”

Eddie plucks the hat from your grasp, the straw scratching lightly against your fingertips as he pulls it away. He steps in front of you, and you keep your head level, only raising your eyes to watch Eddie’s pale, toned arms lift to place the floppy hat on top of your head gently. 

“Your Highness,” Eddie says, bowing his head. Your giggle makes Eddie grin as he gestures towards the lawn chairs. “Your throne awaits.”

Twenty minutes later it’s as if the summer heat were merely an annoying insect that you’re only somewhat aware of. Even though the chill water of the miniature pool only goes up to midcalf, sloshes of water have hit you all the way up to your neck. The cool beads of moisture feel like heaven as they meander down your red tank top, though. The denim shorts you’re wearing will weigh a ton later since the boys’ splashing has gotten them so wet, but Eddie’s such a pro at taking your clothes off that he could use a little challenge this time. 

Luke and Ryan manage to find games to play in the small pool—after Luke’s failed attempt at Marco Polo, anyway. Toy boats glide through the water, a few of them on the grass from flying overboard. The two boys shout but they’re outside and having fun, and it’s nice to hear. 

The sound of the back door slamming shut reaches you as you tilt your head back, protected from the sun by Ryan’s thoughtful gift and the sunglasses you grabbed when you got changed. Eyes closed, you listen to footsteps in the grass as Eddie walks your way from the house. They come to a stop and you sense as he crouches down next to you. Lazily, you loll your head to the side and crack your eyes open. 

“How’re my girls?” Eddie asks, placing his right hand over the soaked red shirt covering your baby bump.

“Mmm, good,” you hum. “She’s very happy you bought strawberry shortcake bars.”

“I’m glad she liked them,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “What about you, princess? How do you feel?”

You pretend to consider his question for a moment before speaking.

“Kiss me?” 

You pucker your lips and there’s no hesitation as your husband leans in and gently presses his own against yours.

“Perfect. Now I’m perfect.”

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader

"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.”

[writingstreetspirit]

One Breath, One Touch

Summary: A night out at Rita’s changes everything for the better

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tension, reader is very shy, prolonged eye contact, kissing

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I last wrote a longer piece instead of headcanons, so here’s a Azriel piece. If you liked this, please like/comment/reblog/follow as it helps me and every other content creator out there. Thank you! 🫶🏻

—

Rita’s is full of people, not unusual as it was Saturday night. Drinking, laughing, dancing, and music fills up the building, a pleasant atmosphere of life all around you. A lot of handsome and beautiful things and people to look at, but there is only one person that’s grabbed your attention tonight.

You can tell he is watching you, because you can feel his stare in your soul. The Night Court's own Shadowsinger Azriel is just a few meters away, along with several others that are part of the Inner Circle, Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Amren. They’re drinking and laughing, Mor and Cassian goofing along to the music.

While Azriel is there in the middle of the group, his focus seems to be entirely on you. His eyes are like whiskey, they glow in the light, and are dark in the shadows. He stands there, looking at you, waiting and watching.

You blush from the intense staring, not being able to hold the intense eye contact for more than a few seconds before having to look away, only to then return your eyes to him again, starting over the process.

This has become a routine over the years. While Velaris is not a small city, it is inevitable to run into all citizens at some point or another. Especially with you being a co-owner at the local bakery in the middle of town, you have had customers all over the Court visit to purchase freshly baked bread or sweet pastries.

That includes the Inner Circle, Feyre and Mor often visit for the delicious cupcakes, and oftentimes Azriel accompanies them, probably as a safety precaution with Feyre being with the High Lord of the Night Courts, Rhysand. The first ever time you meet the lovely High Lady you also saw Azriel.

It’s almost been four years to the day, and every time the door opened and Azriel stepped inside, your heart would race. You’d engage in small conversations, well, more like just a few words, but you’d think about those hazel eyes and dark hair for days until the next drop in.

He raises an eyebrow slightly. He leans back against the wall he’s against, and stares you down. You can sense some kind of tension like it’s something you can physically touch and see. You feel nervous, a fluttering in your stomach.

He stares at you for a while longer. When you're not expecting it, he walks away from his group and steps right up to you. His voice is low and rumbling. “Are you here alone?”

You blink slowly, feeling warmth traveling through your face. If you had a mirror to see yourself, you bet you’d be as red as a tomato. You admit in barely a whisper, “No, I came with a friend. Though I think they’ve left me for a male.”

The corner of his mouth curls down in a small frown, and he glances away from you for a split second before his eyes pierce into yours again. “She didn’t even say that she were leaving?”

You shook your head. It wasn’t the first time something like that has happened, and while it stung the first couple times, it didn’t bother you anymore.

“Would you like company? You seem lonely.” You gulp, looking away from Azriel’s intense eyes. Your cheeks are burning hot, and despite the thin dress and the slightly cool temperature you break out into a sweat. You croak, “Yes, I’d like that.”

His gaze returns to yours, Azriel’s eyes seem to pierce through you. He leans closer towards you, the a small smile forming on his lips. “Should I get us something to drink?”

“Okay,” You breathe out, your heart racing inside your chest. Azriel’s the most handsome male you’ve ever seen, and so…kind and caring. You find it hard to look at him without revealing all your personal thoughts and feelings about him. About how he’d been on your mind everyday since he first walk inside the bakery.

You can smell his scent, it is intoxicating, and it fills your mind with thoughts of him. He’s wearing that cologne that you’d sniffed out whenever he’s been near enough for years now. It’s good, fitting him perfectly. He is so close you could kiss him.

“What would you like to drink, sweetheart?” Azriel asks, and his low voice sends shivers down your spine. Your heart fluttered, he had called you sweetheart.

You don’t answer for a long moment. You’re sure that he’ll know what you’re thinking about if you answer him. Hell, he probably already knows. After all, he is a Spymaster, and a very skilled one at that. Finally you squeak out, “Surprise me.”

He smiles, then turns away to walk towards the bar. You breathe out shakily once your alone. Fuck, you think, I must look so dumb in front of him. He’s just being kind, he doesn’t like me like that. Just as you’d managed to gather yourself somewhat, he returns with to glasses in his hand. One’s a whisky, the other is…your favorite drink.

“I hope you like this one, I can get another for you if you don’t.” Azriel says, holding out the glass towards you. A shaking hand accept the glass, letting the cold drink cool your flushed skin. “Thank you. No, this is perfect actually.”

You sip the drink through the straw, a pleasant hum escaping your mouth at the pleasant taste. You miss the pleased smile forming on Azriel’s face as he takes a swing of the whisky.

“Have you had a pleasant evening, despite your friend leaving?” Azriel asked, and you look up from your drink to see that he’s already looking at you. You hum, nodding once. “I have. Have you? Had a pleasant evening, I mean?”

He chuckled, nodding to behind him where his very obviously family were still hanging out. “Indeed, but I think they’ve had more fun than me based on how much they’ve drank. Especially Cassian and Mor.”

You laugh softly, gazing down at your high heels clad feet bash fully. “Yes, it seems to be that case.”

Azriel studies you for a long while, waiting for you to look back up again. When you finally do he smiles that smile that you’d like to think was reserved just for you. Your hair has thankfully fallen in front of your face and you hope the strands hid the flush that spreads across cheeks.

“Though I can think of something else that would make this night impossible better than it already is.” Azriel spoke low, his voice barely louder than that you just managed to here him. You look at him questioning, curious as to what he was thinking.

He raises his hand, scarred fingers brushing strands of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. He pauses, the space between you is electric and palpable. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now?”

You want to say yes, tell me, I want to know everything single thing you’re thinking, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, but you're too flustered to speak, so you nod instead.

He smiles slightly, it’s as if he already knew you’re tongue tied. His thumb traces your jawline, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He whispers, “Y/N, I have been wanting to do this since the moment first I saw you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing what Azriel is referring to, but before you could ask what he meant, his lips were pressed against your.

His touch is gentle, yet intense. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. You feel alive, your whole body is humming, electric. Azriels free hand is cupping your cheek tenderly, and you melt into his touch. Your hands creep up to his waist, gripping onto the fabric both to pull him impossibly closer and to keep your unsteady legs upright. Somewhere far in the back of your mind your hoping that you’re not spilling the drink all over the back of his shirt.

You don't want the kiss to end, but eventually it does. He pulls away slowly, as if he also didn’t want to leave your pillow soft lips. His hand fall away from your face, and you look up at him. Your breath rushes back to your lungs, and you are breathless.

Azriel stares back at you, you are both breathless. Eventually he speaks, his voice is low and rumbling. “You are the most beautiful person my eyes have ever laid upon.”

Your heart races, you have never felt like this before. Never been so enamored, felt so seen, both in and out, or so cherished by another. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. Please, a voice in your head said, don’t ever let this feeling go away. You pant, eyes unable to look away from his for even a second, “Really?

Azriel lowers his hand to touch your chin, to cup it in his and make you look him in the eyes. They are warm and soft, unlike his usual hard and closed off expression. His voice is low and rumbling, you can feel in your heart that he is telling the truth.

“I could look at you all day.” He tells you, “and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

You lean your flushed cheek into his hand, nuzzling into his warm skin. You smile up at him, at the male that had stolen your heart. The true words spill out of your mouth without any embarrassment or uncertainty. “You are too, Azriel. So very beautiful.”

He smiles back, and his touch is gentle as he strokes your cheek. All the tension and nervousness has melted away between you. Instead a warm, cozy feeling lingers between the two of you, the rest of the visitors in the bar just background noise.

“Will you take me home with you, Azriel?” You asked, looking deep into his eyes. Azriel lowers his hand from your chin, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Yes,” he says, his face shining with what you could only describe as pure joy. Wherever your newfound confidence came from, you thanked it greatly. He puts down his whisky on the table top beside you, and you follow with your own glass. “I will take you home with me if you desire it, sweetheart.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You ask, a small playful smile breaking out across your face. Azriel chuckles low, slowly wrapping his strong arm tenderly around your waist and gently guides you along with him out of Rita’s and into the night breeze.

[tcfactory]

Dumb SVSSS thought of the day: what if Mobei-jun is pretty damn young (14, not quite 15) when Shang Qinghua (20+however long he lived his first life) first meets him. And when he's relaxed and not in mortal danger (like when he's hogging Qinghua's bed) he's acting extremely childish, as emotionally neglected teenagers sometimes do. Just the brattiest of brats, somehow an unfortunate mix of 1. trained for deadly combat 2. already posessing very thorough education on demonic politics and rulership and 3. completely emotionally neglected and almost feral. Like. He's a lonely kid who very much needs a family connection and some hugs. He reminds Qinghua of some of the disciples An Ding gets who come from neglectful families, because getting their unwanted kids in a sect raises a family's prestige and there's a 'compensation' CQMS pays out to the 'gracious parents who give up their child' so it pays better than selling them to the slavers. (It's all just a ploy to make sure the people bring their kids there first, so there's less of a chance that they would end up in the clutches of demonic cultivators.)

So overworked, sleep deprived Qinghua ends up treating his demon brat the same way he treats the An Ding brats a few times. He can't help it! He knows that Mobei-jun will grow up to be like exactly his type, but right now he's just extremely little brother shaped (despite being really goddamn tall, what are they feeding young ice demons???) and Qinghua's brain just turns off the self preservation around him when he's tired enough apparently.

And Mobei-jun... Likes?? He likes this??? Nobody has babied him since the fallout with Linguang-jun when he was four, he's touch starved and needy for affection. The way his human expresses affection is not really the way he's used to, but it's still pleasant. It speaks to that shameful part of him that wanted to curl up and cry himself into oblivion when he was five and his father threw him out into the ice sheets and told him he's not allowed to return unless he kills something with his bare hands and then finds his way home.

So Shang Qinghua acquires a sticky, feral, demonic younger brother. He doesn't really mind as such, that's his blorbo and probably still his favorite person (and the reassurance that as long as he's Mobei-jun's emotional support human he's going to be kept safe is nice). But it really puts a lid on his non-existent dating life. Who would possibly date him now when they would have to contend with having Mobei-unlikely-to-ever-grow-out-of-his-stickiness-in-private-jun around too?

Yue Qingyuan. Yue Qingyuan would date him. He totally gets it, he has his own ill-tempered sticky little brother. Same situation, just with 95% less demonic energy and 80% more verbal sass. Shang Qinghua even ends up joking that they should set up playdates for those two. They are surprisingly effective.

What do you call it when you, your boyfriend, your little brother (feral cat, demon edition) and your boyfriend's little brother (feral cat, cultivator edition) are all cuddled up in a sleepy pile? Shang Qinghua isn't really sure, but it's comfier then it sounds, actually. Everyone appreciates Mobei-jun and his unshakably cool body temperature in the summer heat.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Ephemeral oblivion

A/N: I'm loving the remake so far. So, expect more fics in the far future.

Word count: 3.8k

WARNINGS: fem!reader, porn with no plot, a bit of blood, teasing, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex

The snow-white door, peppered with elegant golden ornaments, lead to an eerie corridor. Unnerving -almost alarming- silence had fallen upon the prolonged space, contrasting the commotion of the previous room that had been overcrowded with hostile courtiers the two agents were forced to take out. The stone brick walls emitted coolness and a cold breeze oozed from the tall windows; the dust-covered glass revealed the dreadful night sky deprived of the gentle moonlight that was obstructed by a thick sheet of puffy, smoky clouds. A lonely antique brass floor lamp stood in a darkened corner, serving no purpose other than decoration; opposite of the lamp was a small wooden coffee table atop which rested a typewriter.

"That was close." Leon panted, hot puffs of air escaped past his agape mouth, his chest rose and feel back against the door. Beads of sweat had broken out on his fair skin, making it glow under the scarce moonlight; the muscles of his arms were tense as they pressed against the hard wood, the impact caused a few of his veins to pop out, trailing deep blue and purple creeks that trailed along his pale skin up to the pinnacle of his biceps.

"You don't say." (Y/N) tsked as she shifted her attention away from his masterpiece of a body, leaning against the cold wall just mere inches away from him and relished the pleasant sensation of the stone bricks cooling her overheated body instead. Her heart raced in her ribcage; every beat echoed loudly in her ears.

Once the effects of the adrenaline began to wear off, the pleasant coolness of the room quickly turned into an unbearable coldness. Despite having her arms wrapped around her torso in a hopeless attempt to preserve her body heat, (Y/N) shivered as the howling wind blew in the narrow space; the haunting noise only caused another set of shivers to run down her spine. Beside her, Leon seemed unphased by the cool weather and his lack of clothing; it almost made her blood boil at how carelessly he would walk around with a short-sleeved turtle neck the thin fabric of which unlikely did anything to keep him warm. Her envious eyes lingered on his form, continuing to doubt he was able to withstand the low temperatures, instead she sensed a spark rekindling deep within her that brought the warm feeling of thrill she so desperately tried to repress ever since the beginning of this assignment.

Blood traveled to her cheeks, blissfully warming them up; her pupils dilated further, darkening her gaze that continued to trace the outlines of his sculpturesque form that appeared silky smooth and flawless hugged by the gray material of his turtle neck that she couldn’t help but associate with a notional look of a fantasy creature, blessing her with its presence. Her hands trembled as the adrenaline had completely evaporated from her bloodstream and she was left with a wave of cold sweat that coated her shivering form. Heat radiated from his body, drawing her in. His captivating appeal repelled her as much as it attracted her. Even if she tried her best to distance herself from Leon in the end, she found herself clinging closer to him; it was a vicious circle she couldn’t get out of and she hated herself for it. From their very first encounter, (Y/N) knew she should avoid him, not get involved in a situation that may result in a heartbreak. Though, as if it was some sick joke the universe was playing on her, fate only brought them closer and now she was forced to deal with it.

"A 'thank you' would be nice." He looked at her. The blues of his eyes were deep, different hues collided together as his pupils dilated and ate away at the beautiful ocean of emotions, instead leaving behind gaping holes that -akin to a black hole- could swallow her whole.

"For what?" She raised her brow at him, her own gaze now locked on his as her eyes squinted.

"For saving your ass." The corners of his lips curled in a smug grin; he pressed his shoulder against the door, shifting his form so he was fully facing her. Intentionally or not, he successfully anchored her attention to his broad shoulders; (Y/N)’s eyes followed the outline of his form that threw a shadow across her much smaller one.

“And how exactly did you do that?” She stood on her tip toes, almost completely closing the already short distance between them. Leon’s hot breath hit her face as he let out a deep chuckle; the melodic sound resonated through her, tingling her senses in a way they have never been. Silence fell upon them; his icy orbs bore into her (E/C) ones as he darted his tongue across his bottom lip, coating it with saliva that glistened under the dim moonshine. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat picking up once more, in anticipation for the last drop to overflow the glass of repressed emotions and release the awfully obvious sexual tension between them.

“You get distracted easily.” He tailed off; his gaze observed her face, monitoring her features. “Take it as a friendly advice from me. Try not to daydream on the job, it could get you killed and I won’t always be there to watch after your ass even if I would like to.” He breathed out the last words, loud enough for (Y/N) to hear; the tone of his voice was suggestive, giving a double meaning to his statement. Heat rose to her cheeks; anger and embarrassment ran through her veins.

How dare he?

Pulling at the strap, tightly wrapped around his muscular chest, she held him from drawing back; her gaze- ablaze with flames of anger- pierced through him, causing him to freeze in place. Her eyebrow knit together casted a shadow above her eyes; his own darted between her captivating gaze and her oh so inviting lips.

“Maybe if you didn’t flirt with me every five minutes, I would’ve been able to focus on my job!” (Y/N) snapped back at him; the force of her grip grew as Leon’s face kept getting closer to hers with each passing second. “Perhaps you’re the one, who should stop daydreaming while on duty since your head is always in the clouds.”

“Is that so?” He dared, staring right back at her.

“Yeah. You can’t have every woman you lay your eyes on. Get it in that head of yours.” Her gaze darted downwards, breaking the eye contact for a split second- the single moment that took Leon to make a choice he might regret later. Digging his hand in her hair, he tangled his fingers in her locks as he closed the space between them. Soft lips crashed against hers in a passionate kiss that was both hesitant and needy. Boldly, (Y/N) leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck; her nails lightly scratched at his skin, the sensation caused a whimper to rip through his throat and drown in her greedy mouth. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his skull, dragging her nails along his scalp and digging them, intentionally coaxing the pretty sounds that resonated against her lips. Wandering hands traveled across the curves of her body, groping at any soft flesh they came across. (Y/N) bit at his bottom lip, breaking the kiss as she took her time sucking and pulling at the velvety skin. Continuing the abuse on his lip, she punctured the pillow soft flesh, causing droplets of blood to spill on her tongue and roll down her chin. The metallic taste tingled her taste buds as she lapped at his plum lip before she continued her venture down to his jaw. Sucking and kissing, she trailed the sharp line of the bone; Leon’s shaky breath tickled her ear. Strong force pulled her away right before she could reach the warm, delicate skin of his neck. Though she didn’t protest as she took a glance of his face; so worked up and messy. His mouth blood stained and agape, his eyes lustful and desperate, yet controlled and contained as they were focused on her.

“What’s up, Kennedy? Giving up so easily?” She tapped her fingers on his arms that held her at a distance.

“I didn’t expect you to be the freaky type is all.” Her heartfelt laughter resonated in his ears.

“Well, you better buckle up for what I got in store.” She shot him a mischievous look and leaned in for another kiss that Leon wholeheartedly welcomed all the while a similar impish grin curled the corners of his mouth. His palms ran down to her ass, groping the skin in a rough manner; (Y/N) whimpered, unintentionally granting him access to her mouth, where he sucked and bit at her tongue. She hissed; her nails dug in his flesh once more this time inflicting the same blissful pain on him. The calloused skin of his finger pads ran underneath the fabric of her gear, slightly pulling them down only to toy with the plush skin of her inner thighs. Shivers ran down her spine at the sensation of his cool digits rubbing in circular motions that were dangerously close to her aching pussy; the friction of his fingers on her velvety skin brought a warming sensation that made her forget about the chill inducing breeze. The air around them seemed to thicken; she felt breathless as Leon’s lips tirelessly pressed against hers.

(Y/N) gasped for air once he finally pulled away, a string of their mixed saliva connected their plump lips; their gazes were locked on one another, their foreheads were pressed against each other all the while their noses slightly brushed. Her breath was still shaky and her hands were clasped together around his neck, balancing her weight on him. The golden curtain of his bangs tickled her flushed cheek.

“Are you sure you want this?” His low voice was delicate and sweet.

“More than anything.” Desperation flickered behind the (E/C) of her almost invisible irises, hidden behind the gaping black of her pupils. A bright smile appeared on his face, making his stupid face all the more irresistible, though (Y/N) couldn’t appreciate the sight enough as she was suddenly lifted from the ground in a singular motion as if she weighted nothing. A yelp escaped past her lips at the grip of his arms tightening around her thighs; in return her own grip on him tightened as well almost chocking him under the impact of her hold. Though it seemed that didn’t bother Leon much, for his attention was focused on getting rid of the barrier of vexatious fabrics that restricted him from the pleasure he was so eagerly seeking. With his body he pinned her against the cold wall, whilst his hands worked on undoing her gear.

A gasp escaped past her lips as the cold air made its presence known with the cool breeze caressing her exposed ass, though Leon’s electrifying touch kept the flame within her ablaze; his hot breath and the warmth emitted from his body, made for a nice contrast to the freezing cold of the stone bricks (Y/N) was pressed against. For a few brief moments, Leon stood still with only his gaze scanning their surroundings in cautious manner; his attention was caught by the odd typewriter. The typewriter itself wasn’t strange but its presence in a desolate corridor was inapposite to say the least; so, without hesitation, Leon knocked it to the ground and sat (Y/N) on the table, where the machine was previously placed.

“Salazar’s not going to be happy when he sees this.” She remarked, the joking tone in her voice brought a smile to Leon’s face.

“A broken typing machine is going to be the least of his worries once we’re finished.” He struck her with a mischievous smirk as he got on his knees; hooking his fingers under the band of her pants, he pulled the fabric all the way down to her ankles. Holding her knees, he spread her legs apart; his gaze found hers all the while his palms crept up to her inner thighs, where his fingers rubbed circles into her plush skin. (Y/N)’s body jolted at his touch gentle and teasing as he avoided the place, she needed him most. Keeping his keen gaze on her, he toyed at her entrance, circling and pressing at her dripping hole without thrusting even an inch. The impact of his fingers on her aching core had her squirm, yet the stimuli was far from enough to grant her the actual pleasure she was seeking- or at least not in the amounts she wanted.

You’re so wet, sweetheart.” He remarked, a smug grin had curled the corners of his lips. “But I don’t skip prep so, you’ll have to wait a bit. I promise it’s gonna be worth it.” At first (Y/N) wasn’t pleased with his words; having thought of this moment in her wildest dreams for so long, her patience was wearing thin, though the words of protest drowned in the base of her throat and her mind went blank as she felt familiar pillow soft lips press against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Numerous moans and pants rolled down her swollen lips, her body shivered as the shocks of pleasure ran through her nerves. Pleased with her responsiveness, Leon hummed in delight; the vibration of his voice sent a new, stronger wave of pleasure that had her head rolling back and shamelessly moaning his name.

“You know..” He trailed off, (Y/N) practically felt his words against her pussy as her head was too clouded with the obscene delight of the situation, she found herself in, to be able to hear him properly. “As much as I like to hear your pretty sounds.” He spoke in between quick licks, making sure to not deprive her of the sensation that had her in the state of trance; his slick covered hand traveled up her body. “You’ll have to be quiet. Could you do that for me? I wouldn’t want anyone to crash our party.” She nodded eagerly, obliging without hesitation.

“Good.” Reaching her face, he prompted his index and middle fingers on her bottom lip. She darted the pads of his digits with her tongue, tasting herself off of him. Cautiously, Leon pressed his fingers against her hot tongue; he chuckled once she took them in her mouth. Her- now muffled- moans tingled his ears as he licked, kissed and sucked on her clit; he was almost out of breath, yet he kept going, rubbing circles on the place where his lips used to be every time he pulled back to catch his breath. Taking a glimpse of her, he noticed her eyes shut tight, sparkling droplets of tears had formed underneath the curtain of lashes, saliva spilled from the corners of her mouth and down his hand; the sight alone was enough to get Leon on edge if he wasn’t already, the growing excitement- restrained in his pants- made itself known as he was suddenly aware of the almost painful friction of the fabric of his gear rubbing against his hardened cock.

Pulling away, Leon took a deep breath in, in a failed attempt to ground himself as he took a hold of his throbbing dick through the fabric of his pants. (Y/N) whined at the lack of attention; stealing a glance of him, she saw him undoing his pants and eagerly stroking himself. Smug grin curled the corners of her mouth at the sight of him so lost in his own pleasure- the few moments he promised himself to calm himself down had turned into a minute, during which she carefully watched him all the while toying with her neglected clit herself.

A sequence of soft moans coming from the both of them composed a titillating melody that echoed across the empty space, breaking the dead silence of the lonely night. Leon’s eyes peeled open only to be met with the exquisite view of (Y/N); her fingers tirelessly pumped her hole, desperately trying to compensate for the pleasure he deprived her from, though seemingly with no effect. Stroking himself, he observed her- almost pathetic- striving to reach the pleasure she so desired. To him she looked adorable; her eyes were shut tight, her mouth agape with his name overtly rolling down her plump lips, creeks of tears traced paths along her cheeks. It took him all the willpower within him not to cum at the sight alone, and that’s when he decided he’s had enough of the foreplay.

Standing up, Leon took a hold of her legs; instinctively, she wrapped her limbs around his hips, bringing him closer to the point where she felt the weight of his cock, pressing against her lower tummy just mere inches away from her aching core. His darkened gaze bore into hers as he prompted his dick at the entrance of her dripping hole. The pad of his calloused thumb caressed her cheekbone, (Y/N) leaned into the touch as his hefty palm cupped her face, locking her gaze with his.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He sounded serious, hesitant even, as if he wasn’t sure if it all wasn’t just another dream.

“Thought you wouldn’t ask.” She earned a deep chuckle from the man, which in return caused a tingle to form in her stomach; in return she smiled, pleased with able to make him laugh- genuinely. It almost felt awarding to be the reason behind his melodic laughter and charming smile- and god was she enamored by it.

“Hold tight.” Leon whispered in her ear, causing the tiny hairs on her neck to rise and bumps to cover the entirety of her exposed skin. Excitement rushed through her veins at the feeling of his hands caressing her hips and thighs before taking a hold of them; Leon glanced at (Y/N), silently asking for permission to grant them pleasure they both were yearning for. She kissed him as a form of a wordless sign of approval; her hands wrapped around his neck with her fingers tangling in his dirty blond locks, her nails lightly scratched his scalp as her grip on him tightened and loosened. Her breath hitched, her mouth fell open, a yelp escaped past her lips as the sudden, bittersweet feeling of being filled ripped through her core. Leon stood still, giving her time to adjust to the grith and length of him.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern was audible in his voice; his forehead pressed against hers. She shook her head no, giving him the relief needed for him to push all the way in. His lips pressed against hers, drowning the moans with his tongue that twirled with hers. Slowly, he pulled all the way out and glid the tip across her slit up to her neglected clit; in response, her body jolted and she whined at his teasing movements. Luckily for (Y/N), he soon pushed back in, instantly hitting a spot that had her seeing stars. Consistently thrusting in and out, Leon set a steady pace equally pleasurable for the both of them.

Gradually, her moans and groans grew more frequent and louder; her nails dug into his fair skin once again, leaving behind crescent marks on it. Biting at her bottom lip, Leon attempted to silence her sounds as they were too distracting for him to keep an eye out for any intruders- not that he really was able to do so. Quite the opposite, she groaned and let out a high-pitched moan as the tip of his cock hit her sweet spot. Once more, Leon kissed her; his hands groped her ass, kneading the flesh all the while bringing her hips flush against his, making it easier for him to continuously hit the places that had her squirm- and so he did. She was completely melted under his touch, eyes rolled to the back of her skull as if she was haunted by some diabolic entity, messy (H/C) strands stuck to her sweaty forehead, her entire body bounced at the impact of his merciless thrusts. His pace was quite rough, yet (Y/N) wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leon’s muscles tensed, his vision got blurry as the only thing he could sense was the pleasure, threatening to unfold and her sweet voice on his lips. Her velvety folds hugged him so perfectly and her juices generously coated his cock, making for the erotic melody of wet sounds and the ones of skin slapping skin with each of his rough thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer and nor could (Y/N). Her body jolted, her grip on him grew even tighter, her back arched off the cold wall she was pressed against under the impact of his body that pinned her. She pulled away from his greedy mouth, gasping for air; pulling on his hair. Near his earlobe, she whispered his name continuously akin to a mantra, her lips brushed against his ear, until a single, loud moan ripped from deep within her throat. Her vision got blurry as the wave of pleasure finally washed over her, unraveling the coil that had formed in her tummy. Though Leon kept going, pushing in and out in pursuit of his own high; her sweet sounds, tingling his ears, brought him dangerously close to his high sooner than he anticipated and the clench of her plush walls around him was enough to send him over the edge. Hot loads of cum coated her pussy. (Y/N) burned in overstimulation as he kept thrusting, riding out both of their highs until his thrust got sloppy and he slowed his pace.

For a few moments, that felt like eternity, the two stayed intertwined, catching their breaths as they came down from their orgasms. Glancing at each other through hooded, drunken eyes the two chuckled in disbelief, the pure joy in their laughter resonated across the room. Gently, Leon tucked a strand of hair that fell in her face, the tiny gesture so warming and full of affection.

“Why haven’t we done this earlier?” She panted; the breath flowed through her burning lungs.

“Well, I’ve been trying to get in your pants since the day I saw you.” Leon winked at her.

“How romantic.” She playfully hit him as she got on her still wobbly legs.

“We should have a round two. Once we get out of this mess.”

“Yeah, but first we gotta clean our mess.” She got on her still wobbly legs and glanced at the poor table that had turned into a pond of their mixed bodily liquids.

“Sadler must have maids or something.” Leon tsked.

“Unless they are brainless creatures by now.” The two of them giggled, still intoxicated from the aftershocks of their highs.

[sillylittlestoryblog]

(Not) Hard to Love

( Part 1 of 2 )

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Warning: ⚠️ reader has self love issues, angst, some suggestive thoughts, not a native English speaker here :)

Authors notes: I have read your comments about writing a part 3 to Keeping me warm, i hadn’t really planed it as a series, so if you have a suggestion how the story should end, I would love to hear your thoughts.

I know this story isn’t that much different. But I am just living for that angsty pining shit. 😗✌🏻this will have a part two and it will follow soon. Anyways have fun. Feel free to comment your thoughts. And remember nice words are good for everybody’s mental health. ;)

"You're staring again"

Robin's words snapped you out of your thoughts. The dark-haired girl was sitting next to you on a sun lounger. There was an open book on her lap. She giggled.

" what?! No. I'm not!"

"Are you sure? You seem to be quite fascinated by him"

She held her sunglasses up for a moment so that you could see her eyes. She winked before putting the sunglasses back on her nose. She grinned and looked happily towards the sun.

It was a hot midday on the Thousand Sunny. Chopper and Luffy were playing a mixture of catch and hide-and-seek, with Luffy usually winning.

Zoro was snoring on deck, his swords always beside his sleeping body.

Usopp and Franky repaired small things on the Sunny and Sanji prepared a few refreshing drinks. While Brook was singing to himself somewhere.

Nami, Robin and you were sunbathing on the main deck. At least that was Nami's plan. Robin had gone along to do some reading. And you had mainly agreed to it for a very specific reason.

Normally your friends would have been reason enough, but the drastic heat was anything but pleasant.

If it hadn't been for this one reason, you would have gone somewhere in the shade long ago, preferably to Sanji in the kitchen or to the girls' room. Somewhere where you could best escape the sun.

But your reason for staying out on deck hadn't really moved for two hours. He was sitting at a small table with a parasol, a few sheets of paper and books spread out in front of him. Immersed in his work.

He was sitting far enough away not to be disturbed by Chopper and Luffy's games.

Trafalgar Law had been on board the Sunny for a few weeks now. Being part of the Strawhat crew again, even if only for a short time, was really getting to him. Groaning, he stretched his body, which was already a little sore from the uncomfortable posture. He really should take breaks from studying more often.

He walked briskly towards the kitchen. As a good doctor, he knew how important it was to drink water regularly, especially in these temperatures.

" and do you like what you see?"

" huh?!"

Once again, your mind wandered. For a brief moment, you wish you could take photos with your eyes. Just save certain moments in your mind forever. And return again and again to study them in detail.

That's all it was. You wanted to know what his deal was. Although you had already had several conversations with him, and in your opinion always with friendly intentions, he had managed to make you feel terrible every time.

Almost every conversation had degenerated too quickly. You could hardly believe how stubborn someone could be. And your captain was Luffy.

So you definitely knew your way around stubborn men. But Law was different. He was cold and grim and always wanted to be right.

You were annoyed by him from day one. Annoyed because this handsome, strong pirate was making you feel things. And that completely destroyed your former inner harmony.

There were either constant arguments or harsh silence between you. Sometimes he ignored you for days. At first you didn’t understand why he stayed with your crew, if he hated it so much.

But every now and then you could see a different side to him. How he talked caringly to Chopper about medication, how he complimented Sanji's cooking, how he gave Robin a brief smile after she had shown him her newest book collection in the library.

But these little moments were never with you. Every interaction between you and him was a disaster. He was grumpy, stressed and strict. So most times he just gave you a weird glance or turned the other way when he saw you walking towards him.

At least you had tried. But ever since Law decided to treat you differently from the other crew members and set out to make your life a living hell, you didn't want to be the friendly one either. You were sure, he didn’t have a problem with the rest of the crew. His problem was you.

But the heat was getting to everyone, and with such temperatures you can shortly forget the real problems.

Especially after Law had gotten rid of his long coat and overly thick sweater. Even his hat, which he usually wears, had been laying on the table next to his medicine and history books for almost half an hour.

And law without all that, was definitely interesting enough to briefly forget what the real problem was.

Tattoos on his upper and lower arms, his dark hair crushed and disheveled from wearing his hat. And his warm eyes that were now really visible for the first time.

"Robin! ... Why is he like that?"

" like what, y/n?"

" like so... so... so arghhhhh..., annoying ?! Angry? Attractive?!" You sighed and put your hands before your face. Not wanting even more people to see your blushing face.

Robin grinned again and took the book off her lap.

" so you do fancy him. Nami and I were right. ... hey Usopp! You owe me 50 berry!"

"Oh no. You did a bet on me ?!"

You loved Robin. She was the most beautiful, intelligent and loving woman you knew. But sometimes you were a tiny bit mad at her for knowing you so well. You couldn’t keep any secret from her. This woman had all the wisdom of the world (+ the gossip on the sunny ) in her head.

" I just don't get why someone who has that gorgeous hair and pretty smile, is such an asshole."

" Law isn't that terrible, Y/N. I told you he's just shy around new people. He'll make friends with you sooner than you know, I'm sure of it. And I don't think he hates you. He just doesn't know how to talk to you yet."

"Yeah, but he can't really get to know me and be my „ friend“, if he always leaves the room when I walk in.... I just want to know why he won't at least try to be friendly to me.

I mean, we have a lot in common. And I was really nice to him on his first day here. I showed him around the ship and even made him fresh juice from Nami’s trees and prepared his room. And all I got was a grumpy face and not a single comment.

And I just don’t know what is wrong with me?! He likes you guys, and he is so kind to Chopper." A sad frown making its way onto your face.

„sounds like you are jealous.“

Nami hadn’t really participated in the conversation yet. But she just enjoyed teasing you too much.

„ ahhh… just shut up, Nami.“

Now hiding your entire body under the beach towel you had brought with you.

You sigh after rolling your eyes for a moment. This wasn’t helping. You would have to find out what exactly his problem with you was.

Later that day, you helped Sanji in the kitchen. You were preparing some muffins for after dinner.

" Hey, can I ask you something?"

" Sure thing, honey. What's on your mind?"

Nervously, you bite your lip. Should you really ask Sanji for help? He certainly wasn't your first choice, but you felt you had to talk to a man. And the other men on board wouldn't be much help either.

„ but of course you are! You are incredibly beautiful and as pretty as a glowing nightsky or a bouquet of expensive flowers.“

Sanji was dancing around you with hearts in his eyes. Making weird noises while twirling like a ballerina.

That’s exactly why you were nervous. Surly Sanji wasn’t the right one to talk about this. But you at least had to try and find out what was wrong with you.

„ but like… do you like my personality too?“

„ yes of course sweetheart, you are the kindest, sweetest and most loving creature to ever bless my eyes.“

„and do you think that the others think so too? That I m helpful ? And kind ? And have a purpose on this ship?“

Sanji stopped dancing and looked at you seriously. „ why are you doubting yourself so much Y/N ? Of course the others think so too. You are part of our Nakama. What makes you think that way? „

Sanji stepped behind you and wrapping his arm around you. „Did the stupid Marimo say something again? I told you not to listen to the shit he says.“

You sat down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen table.

You immediately felt your chest tighten. You didn't want to cry. You really didn't. But the whole thing bothered you more than you initially thought.

"I just don't understand what I did wrong. I was only ever friendly and did everything I could to make him like me. But he hates me and I don't know why."

You sat uncomfortably on the chair with your legs drawn up. Sanji had never seen you so irritated.

" hey hey. It's all good, y/n. Who are you talking about?"

" The fucking Doctor, of course..."

Sanji smirked. He had almost suspected that. He had seen how you kept looking after the dark-haired man after he had ignored you and quickly left the room.

" I just don't get it! Why does he hate me? I've really tried everything, but he won't even look at me when I talk to him.

I've been asking myself for days... am I so ugly that he can't even bear to look at me? Is there really nothing to like about me?“

Hot tears started falling. Your flushed cheeks covered with them.

You didn't deserve all this attention you were hoping for. There was a reason nobody loved you. Something must be wrong with you. Something everybody probably knew, but was too afraid to tell you.

Were you this hard to love ? Why did you have to be so interested in this dude anyway?! Oh yeah, he was gorgeous to look at, intelligent like no other and had seen more of the world than you could ever dream of. Of course you had a stupid crush on him. But for him, you were only air. Or maybe something worse.

Sanji didn’t know if he should laugh or cry with you. He couldn’t believe how stupid you were. Almost as stupid as his captain and the dumb green haired swordsman.

„ y/n hey. Calm down. It’s okay. Nobody hates you. Shhh.“

His arms wrapped around you and held you in a tight embrace.

He almost chuckled thinking about what happend just a few hours before.

Law couldn’t take it anymore. The weather was already killing him. But seeing you in just your short bikini, laying just a few feet from him in the glistening sun. That was clearly to much.

He frowned under his breath. What a cruel joke. Almost as if his crew was behind an evil prank. Watching him, suffering all by himself.

He knew he was fucked the moment he saw you for the first time. He was just saying goodbye to his crew, when he spotted the newest crew member on deck. You were holding Chopper up like a toddler. Making sure he wasn’t gonna fall overboard, while still being able to see the other pirate ship.

Law had looked at you far to long for his liking. Your hair floating around you in the sea wind. And your bright smile lighting up his entire mood. You were mesmerizing.

How did Strawhat-ya always find these people? Law was almost jealous. Even tho he knew he wouldn’t be able to have a woman like you on his crew. It would never work out.

Looking up from his textbook he noticed you watching him again. In some wild fantasy in his head, he would wink at you now.

But Law was a serious man. He had things to do. And he couldn’t get distracted. Even tho the sight before him was definitely something he couldn’t forget in a while, he knew it wouldn’t be good if he was gonna stay sitting at this place. His mind was already wandering to very different places.

This wasn’t good.

Law exhaled and got up. He picked up the textbook before him and went inside. The kitchen wasn’t nearly as hot as the outside and definitely not as distracting.

The blonde cook was standing next to the stove preparing something that looked like dinner.

„ Hey. Is it okay if I sit here for a while?“

The cook turned around and gave him a kind smile.

„ sure. I don’t mind. Was it to hot for you outside?“

„ something like that.“ Law muttered, wishing he wouldn’t have noticed how the sentence had a double meaning. Ignoring Sanjis knowing grin he pretended to already be occupied with his book again.

During the afternoon, some crew members came by the kitchen. Law remained quietly seated at the table, absorbed in his studies.

Even when Nami and Robin entered the kitchen together, still dressed only in their bathing suits, Law did not look up from his work. There was no reaction to be seen on his face.

The others had been observing this behavior for a while. And Sanji was pretty sure by now.

His expression was mostly relaxed or thoughtful. Busy with his work. But that could change abruptly. Because Law showed some other forms of reaction as soon as you entered the room.

You had fallen asleep in the afternoon sun and after finding the deck empty, the first thing you did was head for the kitchen. A glass of water was now your only salvation.

Sanji saw you climb the stairs to the kitchen. And even though he would have liked to continue looking out of the window, enchanted by your face, he had more important things to do. His gaze darted back to the Surgeon of Death as inconspicuously as possible.

When you entered the room, he had already given himself away. Law's face was strangely tense. His eyes stared as unnaturally as Sanji had ever seen them, at the sheet of paper in front of him.

Bingo.

Sanji knew exactly what was going on.

Only when y/n turned to Sanji did Law look up from his book.

Law had to swallow. The view in front of him made him freeze for a moment. His mind going absolutely blank.

The next time Sanji turned his gaze to Law, he held his hand in front of his nose. He rushed out of the kitchen with a bright red head.

Sanji couldn't help but grin. So he had been right all along.

Nami, Robin and Sanji whispered through the night. Their captain laying and snoring between them. Luffy had initially been very excited about this secret meeting. But after he had found out that it was only about you and Law, he had fallen asleep from boredom.

"Haha, I knew it." Nami was beaming from ear to ear.

"Usopp doesn't stand a chance. I'll be rich tomorrow!!!"

"Oh Nami love, it can't just be all about money for you, can it? After all, it's about love, devotion and passion. Law is so attracted to Y/N that he can't even stand to be in the same room with her."

Sanji got heart eyes. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever witnessed. Oh to be in lovee..."

Robin giggled. "So what exactly are we going to do now?“

„ We have to get them to confess to each other !!“ Nami hushed to her friends „and not just for the money“ she added while holding her hands up in the air. Signaling a promise.

„ Maybe we could set up a romantic date for the two of them. I could cook their favorite meals and“ Sanjis lovestruck face suddenly changed into a dark frown.

„ Watch over them, because if Traffy tries to hurt my dear Y/Ns feelings I will kill him.“

„ Oh we shouldn’t do that Sanji, it would be more than stupid to do that. If he hurts her I will simply give him to the marines. At least we could make a profit like that.“ Nami was grinning proudly at her plan.

„ My dear friends, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Let’s see, Franky said that he didn’t have time yet to repair the door to our storage room yet… let’s say for some unknown reason he doesn’t repair it until in a few days? I m sure there is enough other work around the sunny!“

„ What are you suggesting Robin, Dear?“

The dark haired woman placed her chin on her hand, grinning into the blonde cooks face with a mischievous look in her eyes.

„ You’ll see Sanji. You’ll see.“

[reivrze]

burnt | park sunghoon.

in which you try to help out sunghoon with his burnt tongue pairing. sunghoon x reader word count. 0.4k note. very random ngl, i was just bored, hope you enjoy !

Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. The fragrant aroma filled the room, comforting and inviting. The steam curled up in lazy wisps, dancing under the soft kitchen light.

As Sunghoon took a sip from his steaming mug, his eyes widened in surprise. He had underestimated the temperature, and the scorching liquid seared his tongue, causing him to yelp in pain. He quickly set the mug down, fanning his mouth with his hand.

Not far away, you entered the kitchen, drawn by his sudden outburst. You had always been captivated by Sunghoon's playful nature, and you couldn't resist teasing him whenever an opportunity arose. A gentle smile played on your lips as you witnessed the scene before you.

Approaching Sunghoon, your eyes danced with amusement. "Careful, love," you teased. "Looks like your love for hot beverages got the better of you this time."

Sunghoon pouted, pretending to be offended. "You're not going to console me, Y/N? No sympathy for a burnt tongue?"

Your expression softened, and you stepped closer, your eyes twinkling. "Well, I suppose I can't let you suffer alone. Maybe I have a solution for that."

Sunghoon's curiosity was piqued, and he watched intently as you leaned in, your lips hovering just above his. The playful glint in your eyes matched his own mischievousness.

With a playful smirk, you pressed your lips gently against Sunghoon's tongue. It was a tender, lingering kiss, filled with warmth and affection. Sunghoon couldn't help but feel a jolt of electricity shoot through him, a mixture of surprise and delight.

Pulling away, you chuckled softly, your voice a melodic sound in the air. "There, all better," you said, your tone laced with amusement.

Sunghoon blinked, momentarily speechless. The burning sensation in his mouth had vanished, replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation. A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

"You, my dear, have magical healing powers," Sunghoon declared, a playful glimmer in his eyes. "I should burn my tongue more often if that's the cure."

You laughed, your laughter filling the kitchen and washing over Sunghoon like a warm embrace. "I don't think that's necessary," you replied, your voice light and teasing. "I'd much rather see that playful smile of yours without any pain involved."

Sunghoon's grin widened, and he pulled you into a tight hug, your laughter blending together in the air. In that moment, the playfulness and affection between you created a bubble of joy, encapsulating the kitchen with your shared happiness.

As the embrace ended, you playfully tousled Sunghoon's hair, your touch gentle yet full of warmth. "Now, let's make sure you don't burn anything else today, okay?". Sunghoon nodded, his eyes shining with a mixture of mischief and adoration "Deal."

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarize my work anywhere !

[vesper-tinus]

hiii hope you're doing great! could u pls write sth for Simon with fem reader?? anything domestic, soft and cute tnx sm your writing is beautiful🥰♥️

Hello! I'm doing alright, thank you! I hope you're doing well, too! I'm very busy these days, making it difficult to find time to write (maybe also due to Baldur's Gate 3, haha. I'm hooked). Somebody on Ao3 suggested an ice skating date, so I hope it fills out this criteria too!

𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female ! Reader

Summary: A date to the ice-rink with your hsuband. Keywords: Female ! Reader, ice skating cate, happy lovey dovey married couple things!. Wordcount: 1051

“No.”

“Please?” you ask again, the smile widening on your face, brightening your expression. “It’ll be fun!” you continue, gleefully dragging Simon along—your hand curled lovingly around his bicep. Just as he is about to tell you no again, you give his muscle a squeeze, and after a brief period of critical thinking, Simon sighs as he turns his attention from you. 

“...alright.” 

At the agreement, you all but shriek with glee, pulling him downwards to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “It’ll be fun,” you repeat, “I promise! Thank you, thank you, thankyou—” You pull him along with a quicker pace, practically skipping, and even Simon can’t help but be amused at your open display of joy. 

Happy wife, happy life, as they say, and Simon can’t help but agree. Can’t keep the missus unhappy now, can he? 

As you walk, you attempt to quell any worries you might suspect him of listing in his mind. For all his stoicism, you know his mind is apt to create a million-and-one scenarios that could occur on an outing, with a million of them going wrong. “It’s a very low-key place,” you start, leaning closer to your husband, “my friend is actually co-owner of the ice-rink—along with her girlfriend.”

As you talk, Simon feels your intention, and lowers his arm to snake around your waist instead, giving a short hum of acknowledgement.

“Plus, I’ve asked what days and time-frames it’s less crowded, and today—right now—should be optimal!”

“You didn’t have to go through all that,” he responds halfheartedly, knowing well you did all this for him. “but I appreciate it, love.” The dulcet tone of his voice sends a pleasant warmth through you, and when you stop at a red light, he smoothly tilts your head upwards to share a kiss as you wait for the light to switch. “I’m a lucky husband,” he says against your lips, “to have a wife as thoughtful as you.”

There you both stand, happily sharing kisses as a small crowd passes by the two of you. He presses you closer, and now it’s you that feels lucky when his tongue seeks to deepen the kiss. When you part, you can do nothing but stare warm-faced as the light turns from a bright green to red. “We missed the light,” you note sheepishly, leaning against your husband still catching your breath. 

“Doesn’t bother me much,” he says in turn, his faint smile widening slightly. “Leaves me more time to do this…” And once more, he leans down to catch your lips for a kiss, and you eagerly meet him halfway. 

Eventually, with a few distractions, you do manage to reach the indoor ice rink. 

As soon as you enter the building, you’re met with a chill temperature. Fresh and pleasant, and Simon even seems to welcome it.

You hear the echo of a child’s laughter, and the sound brings pleasant memories of younger days. You coax your husband further inside, passing a couple making their way out. They are slightly red-faced, most likely from the cold, but they look happy and exhausted, and it makes you excited for the things to come. 

“Skates first,” you instruct, and Simon gladly lets you guide him around the premise. He has never told you this, but he loves it when you take charge in areas he is unfamiliar with. You’re always physically connected to him—be it by holding hands or taking him by the arm. Leaning against him so he can feel your soothing presence.

You explain things as you walk, and he enjoys hearing it all. ‘Benches for tying our skates’, ‘there’s a café behind those curtains, they make the best hot chocolate’, ‘I feel flat on my face right over there when I was young...’.

Your friend greets you happily from behind the counter, fishing out a pair of skates for each of you. The two of you catch up, making small talk as Simon stands silently beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back. Your friend wishes you a fun time, waving you off as you, once more, guide him along. “We were neighbours as kids,” you explain as you settle on a bench, “even back then she was skating—always dragging me with her.”

You tie your own figure skates first before offering to do his, only to find that he has already tied them with efficiency. Army training, of course.

Before you even have to time to comment on it, he's already shifting one of your legs over his lap.

"Simon?" you ask, watching him untie your skate, only to re-tie it again. Much better than what you did, you note. Tighter, more secure. When you thank him, his thumb is tracing circles against your clothed, lower calf.

"Can't have my wife slippin' on the ice, now can I?"

Your excitement is evident as you carefully make your way towards the ice. You’re no professional, perhaps even a bit rusty, but you’re confident that whatever skill you might’ve had will come back after a few minutes. 

From an outside perspective, he would appear casual, perhaps even disinterested, but you know when he’s hesitant. You notice when he’s uncertain, when his jaw is subtly clenched. Perhaps he would’ve been more comfortable in hockey skates, and you make sure he knows the offer to switch stands. 

“Almost there, sweetheart,” you say with encouragement, beaming a smile over your shoulder. 

The ice welcomes you like an old friend.

You smoothly turn to face Simon, hands outstretched for him to take.

“What we don’t do for love,” he says dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes with mirth. But he takes your outstretched hands in his own to meet you on the ice. Dare you say, perhaps even with a bit of confidence? He pulls you to him, and there you stand, chest to chest. 

“Why, hello,” you coo at him, head tilting to lure him in for a kiss. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Simon takes the bait hook, line, and sinker, warming your lips as you share a kiss. You continue this exchange of brief kisses and embraces as you skate, like a reward for his progress. A carrot on a stick. It doesn’t take long for him to get the hang of it, though he is never completely comfortable either. He hates the drifting, and readily sass you when the opportunity arises. 

Together, you glide across the ice. Encouraging each other through competitiveness and love. 

Your laughter echoes throughout the, now empty, rink, and Simon can’t help but feel awe-struck by the beauty of your enjoyment. To have you willingly share this side of you, one so eager and excited, with him is… humbling. He matches your efforts in earnest whenever you pick up the pace, and whenever he finds it difficult to brake, you’re right there to slow him down. Time passes in the blink of an eye, and only when you pause to catch your breath do you feel the tiredness in your calves and the cold on your face. Perhaps it’s time to call it quits. 

You wave at Simon,  gesturing for him to rendezvous in the middle. 

“Thank you,” you say as you skate into his waiting arms. 

He catches you readily, even if you cause him to slowly drift backwards. He arches a brow, awaiting a continuation. 

“For joining me, I mean. I… had a lot of fun, Simon.” You pause, draping your arms over his shoulders, your smile softening. “It means a lot to me that you were willing to try.” Your husband’s stubbornness is legendary—both a help and a hindrance, yet he finds it increasingly difficult to say no to you. Though, you know when not to press a suggestion, and he appreciates your willingness to compromise. 

“And you mean a lot to me, love.” He kisses you, leaning down to kiss your jaw next. His nose is cold, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be” Which is Simon’s way of saying he had fun. 

“All’s well that ends well,” you agree, preening at his enjoyment of your shared activity. “Let’s head home to warm up?”

He hums in quiet agreement, letting you guide him by the hand as you skate towards the rink’s edge.

Wherever you go,  he will readily follow. 

Wherever you are, he will meet you halfway.

[captain-mj]

Og Soapghost?? Maybe with bottom og Ghost?

I was talking about a god x human au in my discord recently and this felt like the perfect time to use it!

Ghost couldn't feel much in his body anymore. It hurt. He knew that. But it was so distant.

A man forced him forward and he could feel spikes of feelings through his body that were vaguely like pain. Rivulets of blood and sweat went down his body.

They made him kneel. People were speaking, but he couldn't understand over the drugs pumping through his body. It was pounding through him.

Roba stood in front of him. Knife in hand. "May your soul suffer for eternity. You could've avoided this. If you just... listened. " He looked a little sad. "Such a fucking waste."

It was a relief. To die. A moment of nothingness that made all of it disappear. The ache in his body. All the pain. Gone.

Then it hit him. Pain in a way he'd never felt before. Vibrating through his body.

He laughed a little because somehow, still not as bad as his dad.

His body spiraled further down despite it not feeling like he really moved.

Ghost hit something soft and sank down into puddles of fabric. Where they touched his skin, everything was fine. No pain. Not even from his mortal wounds. It was all just okay.

Strangely, he found himself falling asleep. The dead shouldn't sleep, Ghost felt, but he fell into it all the same.

This had been an expected turn of events. Eventually, Ghost was sure that Roba would kill him and go to hell. It felt expected at least.

All of that led to him waking up in a bed though. A bed with such soft sheets Ghost wondered if they were made of pure silk or Egyptian cotton. They ran through his fingers like water.

His skin looked.... clean. After seven months of the only shower he got being from rainwater leaking into his cell, it was... confusing. To not just be clean, but be... pristine. Even his nails were cleaned up. No longer broken and chipped with blood encrusted into them.

The robe he was wrapped in was similar. Fancy and the perfect amount of coziness. Ghost's body was... pleasant to be in. The aching in his right shoulder from where his dad had yanked him too hard as a child, the harsh ripped feeling with his ribs, even the dull throbbing of his head from dehydration, all gone.

It was startling.

He took stock of his body first, seeing he very much still had wounds, he just couldn't feel them.

The room was plain. Carpeted with soft rugs though. It was a very pleasant temperature. All of the furniture inside had been nailed or screwed into the floor. The only thing in the room that Ghost could hypothetically pick up and use for a weapon was the robe he had on, his only clothing, or a lamp. The lamp itself was not where most of the light in the room was coming from. It wasn't... very clear actually where all the light was coming from. Even the shadows seemed unsure about it, with some moving severely one way and gently in others. Some objects had two or three shadows, none of which made sense.

Ghost had a weird sensation like he should have a headache but didn't.

A man came in. Ghost's height, but just a smidge shorter. Broad shouldered and striking blue eyes and a mohawk that looked oddly out of place.

Blood. It soaked him. His clothes and face and there were clots in his hair.

"Yer awake." The thickness of his accent and the strangeness of the situation meant Ghost needed a second to really understand him.

"Yes."

"Soap."

Ghost stared at him before he continued. "My name is Soap. You're name is Simon."

"Prefer Ghost." He responded quickly now and he said it seconds before he sent the useless lamp hurtling at Soap's head. It smashed into him and Ghost felt the impact like it had hit him. Pain lanced through him and although it was a familiar type of pain, it still made him choke out a noise from the shock of it.

Soap moved closer, unharmed. Smiling. "My dear Simon. While I find that very amusing, I recommend you don't try to hurt me, okay, mo chridhe?"

Ghost blinked at the man, head spinning even faster. He gingerly felt his face for any soreness, but there was nothing. Just...himself.

Soap was in front of him. He gently started to reach for him before stopping, bloody fingers about to dirty Ghost. Immediately, he pulled back. "You don't know me... personally. But you and I have a very long history together."

Ghost stared at him blankly.

"I apologize for my state. A sacrifice? To the concept of pain? Of suffering? Well, it doesn't happen as often as you might think. And there's a lot of things, gods, spirits, concepts that wanted you. But I could never, ever, let them have you." Soap spoke like his words were honeyed.

Ghost had been in hunting in Canada the first time a mountain lion had observed him. It had been the same feeling. Same fear.

"Now, I know you must be nervous. Scared. That's okay. You can be those things." Soap smiled. Dazzling. Beautiful. It hurt to look directly at it. "But please know and understand that I will never, ever hurt you again."

Again?

Ghost tried to string words together. He needed to ask a question, but what would be the right one?

Soap turned. "I'm going to go wash up. Stay here. Rest. You look tired."

Ghost had just woken up. He did not feel tired. He only felt the fabric against his skin. "Where am I?" Not a good enough question.

Soap smiled. "You are in... well. Heaven isn't quite right. Neither is hell. Human souls do not come here often. But you are safe. I'd level the world. Destroy anything that came into my path. Before I let another being lay their hands on you."

Ghost knew he was telling the truth. Instinctively and viciously. His body started to get colder and he wrapped himself in the blanket as he watched Soap walk away from him. There was the sound of water.

Ghost ran for the door. He tried to get it open. It wasn't locked. It just... wouldn't move. He yanked harder and used all of his strength, feeling it just barely creak. Like a cat, he clawed at the door, trying to get it to just fucking budge.

The water shut off and Ghost fled back to bed to pretend he had stayed in the same spot.

Soap was... handsome. He reminded Ghost of someone he knew from high school.

"How do we know each other?"

Soap didn't look happy. "I am a god."

"My mom was protestant and my dad was atheist and I really doubt the Christian God is Scottish."

Soap grinned dangerously. "Why? Think he's a Brit?"

"No. He'd be Jewish. Seeing as Jesus was Jewish. So. Let's say I believe you." "You should." "Which I don't, what are you the god of?"

"Pain. Anguish. Suffering. At the hands of a parent usually but not always."

"Oh."

"So you know me well. Unfortunately. You're not the person to go through the most pain. Shocking, I know. You're in the top ten. But... it was the past few years where you caught my interest."

Ghost stared at him. "Wasn't conveniently when I turned 18 and therefore it's legal was it?" It was a shit joke. One mostly done to throw Soap off. To try to get him to stop staring at him the way he did.

"Nah. You were actually 20 already. You put yourself through more pain and I was there again. I saw you again. And you had... filled out. Got taller. Older I should say. You were... gorgeous." Soap looked at him with literal hearts around him. They formed out of smoke.

Ghost didn't want to know what he considered his love language. If it was anything like what he was, Ghost imagined the next eternity living in agony with the promise of love hanging above his head.

"I see."

"Yes. I will admit that I'm wretched."

"You could've stopped it?"

"No. Not at all. You think I like letting children get hurt? Never. But I am the god of pain and anguish so I am there. I watch and I tip the scales and when I can, I bring karmic justice. But right now, I am wretched for not stopping you from being killed. But Simon, you must understand that I simply wanted to protect you. Now I can. Now I can bring you to my bed. Love you properly."

Ghost felt the floor fall from beneath him. His panic must've been clear on his face.

"Not right now." Soap said it so loudly it made Ghost flinch. He quickly dropped the volume. "For now, it is more than enough to know you are... safe. Unable to feel pain. Within my reach, though not in my grasp yet." He reached forward, fingers gently touching Ghost's cheek. It sent such a visceral feeling through Ghost. His nerves reacted. The touch drowning everything out.

It lingered far longer than it should.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

Ghost gasped, trying to find air for his lungs. "Wait."

"Just rest. Your body is so damaged. It's going to take so much time to stitch you together, but I promise I will do it with all the love and care needed." Soap took consciousness away from Ghost. Gently, careful to let him drift into it. Like threads.

Ghost woke up with most of his wounds healed or healing. They did not all heal cleanly, leaving scars, but they were done. Not even tender.

Soap slept next to him, slowly breathing in and out.

Ghost tried to escape again, scrambling at the door. He so desperately wanted to get out of there. To get confirmation this was fake.

"The door only opens for Gods." Soap mumbled from where he was in the blankets. "Come back to bed, Simon."

"Don't call me that. Whatever bullshit you're using to make this door act like this is probably some stupid trick. Something heavy on the other side."

Soap got up and walked over. "You think you're about as strong as I am right?"

"Probably."

Soap opened the door with ease. There was nothing on the other side but hallways. And a few cats. "Easy, peasy. You're human. My human. So it won't open for you."

Ghost watched Soap close the door. No latching, no locks. He tried to open it and it wouldn't budge. He kept asking for Soap to open it again, trying to find the trick to it. Soap was infinitely patient.

Soap put his hand on the knob. "Turn it."

Ghost turned and opened the door. Easily. He tried again with just his hand. Nothing. The knob was too old to have any fingerprint technology or some other tech thing.

Ghost looked at Soap who just shrugged. "Told you. If you want to go outside, we can go."

"Yes. I'd... like that."

Soap nodded. "You shouldn't go out in just a robe. Let me get you clothing."

Ghost nodded and watched Soap go to a door that hadn't been there before. He got clothing out and got on his knees, helping Ghost who followed the silent orders automatically.

Soap offered his arm.

"No." Ghost was not going to hang off him like arm candy. "I'll walk next to you."

Soap frowned. "Simon."

"No."

"It's to keep you safe. How about we hold hands?"

"No. Don't touch me."

Soap sighed. "I can't say no to you. Just stay close. If someone takes you away, they might hurt you."

Ghost did stay close to Soap. Mostly because Soap stayed really close. Things did watch Ghost. Things that clearly were not human. Not animals.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

Soap led him to a kitchen. The doors didn't make sense. Ghost felt the world start to crumble around him.

Oh fucking hell.

This was real.

Soap got him food. It was leaves with something red over it, most likely salad dressing. He added some meat to the side and gently led Ghost back up. Ghost grabbed his arm and followed him.

Soap sat on the bed and watched him eat.

Ghost enjoyed the food. It tasted good. Mostly, he was trying to pretend this wasn't happening.

Soap motioned for Ghost to shower once he was done. His clothes mysteriously disappeared besides the robe. He laid on the bed again, sinking about into the softness. Music started to play. Beautiful music.

Ghost felt Soap laying next to him. Both staring at the ceiling.

"You like the stars, right?"

Ghost nodded. "I do."

Soap flicked his hands and the ceiling started to swirl until they were exactly like his stars from home.

Ghost started to breath harder. This was insane. All of it. But god, it was so nice to not feel pain.

Soap turned to him. "Simon. You're feeling something I don't understand."

"I don't want you to hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're capable. More than capable. What could I do to defend myself?"

"Simply tell me to leave. I adore you. I'll do anything you want. Anything to make you feel comfortable."

Ghost was silent for a while. They laid there a long time. He wasn't sure how long. Must've been hours. Just watching the stars. It was horribly pessimistic. Evil almost. But he knew if he didn't give Soap what he wanted, he'd take it eventually.

"Take what you want."

Soap looked at him, strangely passive. "Alright." He got on top of him, cradling his face. "I love you, Simon Riley."

Ghost looked away and let Soap pull the robe away. Let him trail his fingertips over him. He kept waiting for the pain. For roughness. Instead, Soap carefully prepped him. He pushed in one of his fingers, coated in something slick that felt warm. His mouth stayed busy on Ghost's stomach. With a gentleness that felt so foreign from the literal god of pain, he sweetly opened Ghost up for another finger.

The stretch felt... divine. It got a tiny groan out of Ghost that Soap quickly kissed him to swallow down. "I love you. I'll prove it. I have all of eternity to show you pleasure. To make up for all of the pain you've felt."

Ghost gasped as he felt him go deeper. Pleasure sparked up his spine as he was prepped. It was overwhelming and amazing and it felt so damn good. All too soon, he was pulling out those magic fingers and leaving Ghost empty and wanting more.

Soap hiked Ghost's legs up. "You might feel a bit of pain. I'm sure you're familiar with this."

Ghost bit his lip and nodded. "Be as rough as you want. I'm sure my pain is good for you."

Soap grabbed his hips and slid into him. Slow and steady. "Simon. Simon. Come now. Do I need to come out and just say I want to spoil you?"

There was no time to adjust before he carefully rolled his hips, making Ghost arch from pleasure. It spun and ran through him, too intense to be natural.

Soap held him close and kept going. Loving. The word loving came to mind. It was so focused on Ghost in a way he wasn't used to. There was this dizzying lack of anything but pleasure. He dug his nails into his skin to ground himself but Soap pinned him by his wrists. The change of angle meant Soap just brushed his prostate in just the right way and Ghost slowly felt something in him start to crack.

So good.

So good...

"I'd never hurt you. I only want you to feel pleasure. I'd keep you like this for all eternity if I thought you'd be happy. I'd dedicate my existence to pleasuring you. Whatever you'd ask of me. My mouth, my body, my hands. I've spent so much time learning what I can. What makes men feel good. what would make you feel good. I know every nerve of your body. Ever reaction of the flesh."

Soap twisted his hips and Ghost cried out, the stars in his eyes mixing with the stars from the ceiling. His legs shook where they wrapped around Soap.

"Faster..."

Soap grinned. "There you go. You'll learn to love me. I promise. But until then, whatever you want, you get. I'll spoil you. Ruin you. No one else will be able to compete." He did go faster. It was perfect.

Ghost felt his thoughts disappearing and being replaced with just...

Soap kissed him and stayed at the right pace until Ghost had to turn his head to catch his breath. He reached down to finish himself but Soap pushed it away. "No. Just this. I know you can. Until then, just keep enjoying the feeling okay? You don't do anything but feel."

Ghost whined, feeling the pressure in his lower gut. He needed to finish, but he understood Soap's point in that he didn't want it to end. Maybe he could be happy doing this forever. Just taking and taking and...

Ghost couldn't think anymore. His body just wouldn't let him, taking over his thoughts.

"Soap. Soap. Soap. Soap." Simon mumbled before throwing his head back, coming all over both of them. The moment overstimulation started, Soap stopped, pulling out. He pushed his hair back before going to tuck himself back into his pants. "Not going to finish?"

"Don't see a reason to as long as you did."

"No. Finish."

Soap paused and stared at him before slowly wrapping his hand around his cock. He started to stroke himself but kept eye contact with Ghost. He came all over Ghost's chest.

"Good.' Ghost muttered, relaxing. "I need another shower."

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: He Sat Upon a Throne of Pumpkin Pie [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: He Sat Upon a Throne of Pumpkin Pie [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: ... Mahito and a very special pumpkin pie

For Horrorfest request: Mahito and a very special pumpkin pie

Word count: 1149

Notes: Yandere, Mahito is his own warning, food related horror

The last thing you ever expected Mahito to set down in front of you was a pumpkin pie. 

And when you’d looked up at him in genuine confusion, the last thing you expected to see on his face was a look of quiet pride and contentment. No manic grin, no slinky smile. Simply a serious pleased expression that didn’t seem befitting of his usual moods around you. 

“What… is this?” You asked, as if it wasn’t evident by its appearance.

“I made you a pie,” he said simply, although perhaps not so simply, as nothing was ever simple when it came to Mahito. He turned away from you, and you heard the distinct sound of cutlery rattling before he set down a small plate, a fork, and a knife. 

The chair screeched when he pulled it back and sat down. He put his elbows on the table and simply stared at you.

“Well?” He asked, when you had evidently not moved quickly enough. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

Your hands moved slowly, feeling leaden, as you used the knife to cut a haphazard slice and lifted it onto your plate with a fork. He watched, tilting his head a little, as he was prone to do when observing you. 

On your plate, the slice of pie looked… normal. A subtle orange-brown color. Light brown crust. The filling was firm, but had a bit of moistness to it. 

Just a pie, a normal pie. 

Well, almost normal. The one peculiarity were the walnuts crushed up and interspersed throughout the slice.  You saw them in the cross section of the pie, now that you’d taken out a chunk. They looked a little burnt, but you suppose curses weren’t exactly prone to baking, and that was to be expected.

It was probably something he saw in a recipe book or on TV. He had been peeking at old recipe books lately, a stack he’d found in a box left on the side of the road. 

Mahito made a shooing gesture at you, and you broke out of your thoughts. 

“Come on, come on!” He said. His voice took on a whining tone that was at least more familiar to you than his unusual seriousness. “While it’s fresh!” 

And so, because you still had enough self-preservation to know that you should do what Mahito wanted, you scooped a bite of pie onto your fork and put it in your mouth, then chewed. 

He sighed almost instantly, a whimsical, dreamy sound, leaning his chin on his hand while he watched you eat. The way he looked at you was entirely unnerving, because he did not look in the least bit terrifying. Instead he looked at you like a man--a curse, you reminded yourself--enamored. Like you were the sweetest thing in the world. 

“I think I understand why people like to bake now,” he said, perhaps more to himself than to you. “Watching someone enjoy what you made…” He sighed again, his lips curling up in a smile. 

Although “enjoy” wasn’t quite the word you would use to describe what he’d made, even as you took a few more bites to placate him. 

The taste had the vaguest resemblance to pumpkin pie, you supposed. But it was more like someone’s idea of pumpkin pie, like it had been strained ten times over before finally being baked. 

Maybe he tried to make it from scratch and it wasn’t sweetened enough. Or maybe he’d over mixed or added too much liquid or baked it at the wrong temperature. You weren’t exactly a baker, and if you ever indulged in pumpkin pie, it was something you bought from the bakery. 

It wasn’t vile, but it wasn’t good or pleasant to eat either. A child’s first time baking in the kitchen. 

The walnuts were the strangest addition. They were burnt and their texture and taste was unusual. They weren’t crunchy, exactly, the way you expected a walnut (burnt or not) to taste. They had a slightly chewy texture, with an overlaying firmness. Like raisins encased in something, maybe. 

Maybe they were raisins… that would explain the overall unusual taste of the pie. 

“Mahito,” you said, dabbing at your mouth with the inside of your shirt since he didn’t see fit to give you napkins. “Are these walnuts or raisins? I can’t quite tell.”

Mahito blinked at you, his mismatched eyes holding an ounce of genuine confusion before they seemed to glint with an awful realization. And then his lips curved into a smile, the type of smile you hated to see, the kind that made you feel sick to your stomach.

He reached out and plucked one of the pieces from the cut pie, holding it with his thumb and forefinger. A bit of orange pie stuck to the edge of it. 

“I was able to make them smaller than usual,” he said, casually. “It took a lot of work. Especially once I started baking!” He pouted. “I had to go through a lot of kitchens before it came out looking this good… how does it taste?”

His words hit you low and slow. It took a while to put them together, like a puzzle you didn’t want to finish. 

“You were able to make… what smaller than usual?” 

And oh, didn’t a small part of you already know the answer? You weren’t naive anymore. Not after all you’ve been through with Mahito. What he’s done, what he’s made you do. 

What you’ve seen.

And now, what you’ve tasted.

Your tongue curled inside your mouth, the taste and strange, chewy texture of the--pieces--you swallowed lingering in your sense memory. 

The answer came but you knew it already.

“People!” Mahito popped the piece he held into his mouth and continued while he chewed. “I had to get a lot for this recipe. Did you know the recipe called for two whole cups of nuts? The people who make these books should be more considerate.” 

He closed his eyes and shook his head, an exaggerated mimic (but maybe it wasn’t a mimic, you thought) of annoyance. “It’s not like these ingredients grow on trees!” 

“Walnuts do grow on trees,” you said dully, thinking of the people he’d murdered and cooked and fed to you. How much did they suffer? (You did not ask yourself, ‘Did they suffer?’ Because you knew, from witnessing Mahito’s work firsthand, that they undeniably did.) Were they alive when he baked them? Were they alive–now? 

Mahito opened his eyes and widened them, unaware or uncaring of the turmoil roiling through your guts.  “Oh, really? Well, it was easier to substitute something else, anyway.” 

You shoved yourself away from the table, feeling the acrid vomit finally begin to climb up your throat.  Mahito made a soft sound of surprise--

“Don’t you want to finish your slice?” 

“No--you can have it.” You just managed to get the words out as you walked out of the kitchen, heading for the hallway and the bathroom.When you glanced back, his expression was back to that subtle pleasure. You half-wished for him to break out into a nasty grin. It was easier to stomach.

No pun intended. 

[wannaeatramyeon]

Can I request the "only one bed" trope with Jake but reader just insists that they don't mind sleeping in the bathtub?

SFW version coming up! Sorry for the delay anon! (And to my other requests too 🙇🏻‍♀️)

Jake Kim x Reader: Only One (1) Bed

G/N. Silly.

"I'm serious!"

You laugh until your knees are buckling, doubled over and clinging onto Jake to keep you upright.

The idea of this 6ft 5 man crammed into a miniscule bathtub for an entire night, waking up with a crick in his neck and his back creaking amuses you way more than it should have.

Jake sees the tears of laughter in your eyes, the mirth spreads and he's chuckling along with you. Until he's holding on to you as much as you are to him.

It's needlessly convoluted, this situation. What should have been a pleasant night going to sleep in a king size bed of your own has turned into the receptionist muttering their apologies and comping you for this booking mishap.

Which is nice, sure. But it doesn't solve the dilemma that you and Jake are crammed into this one room.

(There is no nearby vacancy. Believe you me, you’ve checked. Double checked, triple. Nothing.)

And while the bed looks all lovely and big for you. Add in this huge muscular man, then it gets exponentially smaller.

Really, it's good of Jake Kim to offer to sleep in the bathtub, which is completely ridiculous by the way. It’s an empty offer, as he knows and you know there is no way you would let your friend cram himself and all his long limbs into that tiny uncomfortable space.

You sure as hell aren't going to be the bigger person and suggest you take the bathtub. This is your room. Under your name. It's Jake's booking that had gone amiss.

"I can take the floor?" He offers, once the laughter dies down and you both look around wondering where he would even be able to lie down fully in this room, not to consider being able to stretch out.

"No, I'm not going to let you curl up like a dog at the bottom of the bed." His lips quirk at the imagery. "We'll have to share."

You gesture to the bed. The one bed. One. Singular.

Jake opens his mouth to give another feeble idea. You cut him off, telling him with finality, "It's just for one night."

You launch yourself onto what you decide is your side. The one furthest from the door. If an intruder breaks in, they can get through Jake Kim first.

"Just keep to your side and your hands to yourself," You stretch, listening to your joints click and missing the way Jake's face reddens as his mind fills with indecent images.

That settles that then.

.

.

Jake stirs first.

Keeps his eyes closed, ignoring the sun peeking through the blackout curtains and enjoys a very rare lie in. When he doesn't need to spring out of bed and deal with Big Deal and all its troubles.

He's a light sleeper. Usually has troubles drifting off. Yet after the initial awkwardness of getting used to you next to him, he was completely knocked out.

This may have been the best night's sleep that he can remember. Is better rested than he has been in a long time.

Room, perfect temperature. Bed, perfect firmness. Pillows, perfect bounce. And the weight on his chest is pleasant too. Warm and soft and soothing. Like a weighted blanket. A stress ball.

He gives said stress ball a squeeze and is met with a grunt.

Huh. That's odd. Hold on-

His eyes fly open and are met with the sight of your head on his chest and lightly snoring.

And now that he's very rapidly waking up, he's aware of his arm around you, yours draped over his body and legs entangled.

Jake gulps, realising he did neither of the things that you said. He did not keep to his side or his hands to himself.  At some point in the night, instead of both of you sticking to the very edges of your respective corners, you must have met and... cuddled. 

How obscene.

He peeps over to your side, and finds ample room. It's a very small relief as he figures out you were the one that must have sought him out.

With great care, he tries to remove his arm. Slowly slip it out to prevent waking you and all hell breaking loose.

You don't make it easy.

In fact, you make it nigh on impossible as your grip on him tightens and you grumble, "Not yet. S'early."

He tries once more to extract himself. It's a futile effort. Nonetheless he tries with a bit more force and receives a sharp pain instead.

Your mouth is on his pec. Having bitten him, leaving behind a very clear bite mark, spit visible on his t-shirt as he stares in shock.

Fine. Fine. He won't move. How can he, if you're going to get... violent. When you wake up, you only have yourself to blame.

That's his excuse anyway, he decides, and finally relaxes with you in his arms.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #9

(An idea I had late last night when I should have been sleeping)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas

✦

Lost Children Saved by the Lost

After being rejected by his parents and almost captured for experimentation, Danny escapes into the Ghost Zone. He wanders listlessly for nobody knows how long. It could have been days, months, years, but he wouldn't know how much time had actually passed.

He missed his friends, his sister, hell even his bully. However, the longer he wandered, the more he began to forget their voices, their facial features. Everything. He couldn't even remember what his obsession was. He wandered so long that the only thing he remembered was the aching and devastating feeling of his parents rejection of half of himself.

Eventually growing bored of the neverending expanse of the Ghost Zone, he takes a random portal and winds up in the DC Universe. Although, not in modern times. He finds himself hundreds of years in the past but couldn't find it in himself to care.

At least until he hears the cries of a child in distress. He goes searching and finds a little boy, weeping while curled up on the filthy ground, begging for his parents. The boy was emaciated, clearly not having had food in a very long time. His core jolted and ached at the pitiful cries. Was this his obsession? What was he supposed to do?

He only hesitates for a moment before he approaches the crying boy.(1) The boy flinches at the movement of shadows before looking up to meet the aurora green eyes of a man made of starlight.

"Hello, little one." He greets softly, automatically speaking the boy's language he heard only moments before. (2) "What's wrong?"

The boy is quiet as he wearily examines the man before him. Long hair the color of snow illuminated by moonlight. Olive skin that seemed to have a blue tint to it. The pointed ears and the loose, black clothes that seemed to have the cosmos playing across them. The most striking of all the man's features, however, were the rays of blue-green light flowing from his back like the tails of comets racing across the night sky. Despite the light they exuded, the wings seemed to absorb the heat from the air, letting off a cool but pleasant temperature. (3) The boy gazed cautiously into the man’s eyes, looking past his odd features, and found only kindness as well as a strange, deep-seated sadness. No matter how his mind said no one can be trusted, his gut said the man meant no harm. He decided to respond to the strange man's question.

"My parents," he began, stopping to wet his painfully dry lips. "They don't have money for food. They left me here because I am too much of a burden to keep."

The boy looked down, avoiding the man's eyes as if ashamed. His words made the man's core ache even more than before, vague and foggy memories flashing briefly behind his eyes. His core pulsed in his chest, urging him to do something. He didn't know what exactly, so he simply said the first thing that came to mind.

"Now that won't do. How about we look for others who would take care of you instead?" He said as he gently picked up the small boy and carried him cradled in his arms. The boy stares up at him as the man walked with his head held high and looking forward.

"Who are you, mister?"

The man's eyes became clouded as he mulled over the question before answering, carefully measuring his words.

"I've long forgotten what my name was. It's been so long since anyone's called me by it." He said, with sadness coloring his tone. They walked in silence for a couple of seconds before the man seemed to brightened a little. He looked at the little boy with soft, green eyes and a smile. "Why don't you choose a name for me, little one?"

The boy gained a look of concentration as he took the request seriously. The man continued walking in silence as he let the boy think, eyes forward as he searched for a family to take the boy in. His core was tugging him towards one particular house, practically singing as he came to a stop in front of the door. (4) He leaned down to gently set the boy on his feet before he himself kneeled to the boy's level.

Hands on either side of the boy's face, he kissed the child's forehead. Silently, he placed a blessing on the boy, a faint glow that went unseen to mortal eyes. He wished for the boy to know true love and happiness. For his parent's abandonment to leave no scars on his mind or in his heart. With that, he stood up once again and knocked on the door.

"Goodbye, little one. I've done what I can." He said as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" The boy called out. The man stopped and looked back with a curious light in his eyes, the stars on his clothes seeming to briefly brighten as well. Once the boy saw he had his attention again, he continued.

"I thought of a name for you. If you'd like to hear it?" He askes hopefully.

The starlit man smiled, before nodding. "I'd be happy to hear what you've come up with."

The boy brightened up before opening his mouth to speak once more, hurrying as he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.

"What do you think of..." (5)

✦

Whelp. That was interesting.

Notes:

(1) Should the boy be an actual character that's established in the DC Universe or just a random child?

(2) When I thought of this, I was thinking Danny wound up somewhere in Ancient Rome. So, I think he'd be speaking Latin here.

(3) Comets are made of stardust and ice, which means they are also cold instead of hot. At least until they're warmed by the sun. I thought it was quite fitting, honestly. They also are often seen to give off a blue-green color! How cool it that? Ha!

(4) Danny's obsession is so ragged and starved after wandering for so long that it latches onto the first thing it could to give it a jumpstart. Protecting lost children (lost in one way or another) and leading them to families who would actually care for them. He is the one who urged Martha and Johnathan Kent to adopt Clark. He helps Billy Batson eventually find a forever home. This even plays a role in how Bruce meets each of the Robins. Jason will be the first and only child Danny ever fails to give a permanent home to because of Jason's feelings towards Bruce over his death. Danny adopt Jason?

(5) When I was thinking of what the boy would name him, I immediately gravitated to the names of stars, which seems pretty obvious considering how I described Danny here. Anyway, what I chose was Regulus because it's a blue-white star and the brightest one in the constellation Leo, also called the Lion's Heart. Not only that, but the Latin meaning of Regulus translates to "little king" or "prince". Not to mention it's also a common name among Saints. You don't have to use the name Regulus tho! Come up with anything you want to call him!

(*) Should Danny just be an immortal patron saint of orphans and lost children, or should he be upgraded to a patron God?

[oxygenbefore1775]

winter time makes zeke's glasses fog up

➼pairing: zeke x reader

➼cw: fluffy fluff (as fluffy as it can get with zeke), could be canonverse cuz its ambiguous

➼wc: 1,5k

➼a/n: hoho im on the roll, winter gives me strength; divider by @/benkeibear

Frost stubbornly clings to your clothes even as you enter the warm shelter of your house. The air surrounding you is still fresh and crisp, a pleasant feeling safe from its biting cold. 

Shaking the snow off your boots, you do a rush job of unlacing your shoes with your very much stiff fingers to escape into the saving warmth of the room.

“The next time you get the bright idea to go for a walk in the snow, be so kind as to check the forecast beforehand,” your voice doesn't betray any annoyance with Zeke, not because it isn't there, but because it boiled out nearly an hour ago. The relief of finally being home is too overpowering for you to muster up irritation all over again. “Suggestion for a suggestion box, you know?”

As you decide to make your way to the kitchen, a line of outer clothing forms behind you. The snow, stuck to the fibers, already melts in the high temperature of the room and is bound to soak your clothes should you not hang them out in front of the heater, yet this barely makes it into the list of your current worries. All you want now is a cup of hot tea, coffee, cocoa - whatever the cupboard holds at its disposal, it just needs to be scorching hot to warm you from the inside out.

You can almost discern him huffing at your proposal - either that or it can be a shadow of laughter. For all you know, he’s found the visual of you waddling through the snow as the blizzard raged on quite amusing. Mayhaps it’s been his plan all along, to drag you out outside just to revel in the sight of you struggling against the elements.  

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he answered in kind, stomping his feet a bit too thoroughly to get rid of the snow. “As we both know, I was sitting inside the whole time and mocking your misfortunes.”

Well, cold certainly hasn’t dulled his poignancy. 

With a counter-quip dancing at the tip of your tongue, you turn around to face him - only to see nothing but the snow powdering his form. An unbidden smile graces your lips at the sight of this second layer of clothing, dusting it with white frost. Even his hair and beard aren’t safe from the fluffy flakes sticking to them, maybe even more so than other parts of his body. After all, he can always take off the outer layers covered in snow just like you’ve done a moment ago, hair and beard - not so much.

Too bad he can't see you approach, a spark of endearment pooling in your eyes. His glasses fogged up the moment he stepped into the house.

“Look at you,” you half-tease half-flatter, holding up a finger to the flushed tip of his nose. “At least the weather treated us equally shitty.”

Your comment falling on deaf ears, he promptly rejects your touch by brushing off your hand. Unlike you, Zeke actually has enough decency to undress in an orderly manner and put his clothes on a hanger instead of the floor. An impressive fit, considering the partial blindness he is currently experiencing.

As he bends down to unlace his shoes, you can't help but laugh at the way he's peering over his glasses, desperate to find the knots to untie. Knowing full well how unwelcoming he is to your touch, let alone affection, you nevertheless have the audacity to reach down to ruffle his hair still powdered in snow. Most of the snowflakes you shake off shower the floor around you two, with some landing on his lenses. Still, he says nothing to repel you - perhaps he's staring daggers at you, but you wouldn’t be able to see them behind those glasses.

Maybe it’s the recent cold leaving you wanting for more spice (as if barely getting out of the blizzard hasn’t been enough), but you feel brave enough to crouch down beside him. Eyes fixed at his brows he’s been furrowing ever since you approached him. Evidently, his inability to watch you is quite unnerving to him.

“Why don’t you take them off for a second?” you suggest with a smile, already reaching your hands towards the metal frame, “I can even be so gracious as to clean them for you.”

Before you can though, he smacks your hands away. Not hard, but assertive enough to make his discontent with your ill-conceived action known to you. Doesn’t mean that it stops you from smiling at him. It’s quite a challenge to get your point across if the most expressive feature on your face is now reduced to a pair of foggy circles. 

Standing up, probably to get away from you, he crosses his arms over his chest as he scoffs at your sudden bout of cheerfulness. “Hands off my glasses. I know you too well not to expect you to leave a smudge on the lenses. And guess who would be the one to wipe it off?” The way he crinkles his nose at you fails to deter you and if anything does the opposite as you now want to tease him even more. “Just don’t touch them, they'll get cleared up in a moment.”

With that, he attempts to push past you, but you've already decided to torment him relentlessly, sensing his susceptibility to it today. Having caught a glimpse of his irritation, you now crave to witness it in full display. And here you thought that it would be the other way around today.

You stand in his way, a complacent grin plastered across your face and eyes burning bright with challenge - not that he can see it anyway. Contrary to his reassurance, the glass lenses don’t show even the slightest hint of clearing up, if anything, they’ve gotten cloudier ever since.

The annoyance in his posture is palpable as you press your palms against his chest in a feeble attempt to prevent him from going away. Lucky you - he puts up with your schtick just the right amount for you to get away with this. 

“Come on, we both know that you don’t really need them,” you rebuke in a soft tone, reaching for his glasses again.

This time he lets you, although very reluctantly. Maybe the pros of giving in to your whim outweigh the cons of being hounded with your nagging should he refuse your touch. 

“Come on,” you nudge further and he relents, bowing his head ever so slightly to grant you more access. 

The metal frame feels cold as you grab it, and with an awkward, not-so-smooth motion, you slide the glasses onto his head. Meeting his gaze isn’t something you anticipate so the sight of his blue eyes staring back at you catches you by surprise. 

Now, his eyes stand out even more against his features, rosy from the cold. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been given an opportunity to look at them up close, let alone without the barrier of the lenses. Even the peevishness he is trying so hard to convey to you through the gaze alone is unable to obstruct the clarity of their color, as fresh as the winter sky.

Again, you send him a curt smile in hopes he responds in kind. Only he doesn’t budge at this display of sentiment. He must be very cross with you to warrant such a lack of positive reaction then, evident in the way he purses his lips and quirks his brow at you, looking forward to seeing your whim to subside sooner or later. 

“Maybe I don’t mind a stroll in a blizzard every now and then.” As you muse to yourself, your fingers delicately trace the space where a subtle blush dusts his features. “If it means seeing you like this.”

Just as you're poised to playfully tap his nose, he unexpectedly leans forward, stealing a quick peck on your lips. As often happens, especially when he isn't careful (just like a moment ago), the coarse hairs of his beard prick your chin. You recoil instinctively, fingers reaching to your face. Before you can say something, your brows knitting together in understandable confusion, he shoots you a smirk. Now it’s his turn to flick you on the nose.

“This,” he declares, while scanning your features, “is my rightful compensation for having to endure your obnoxiousness earlier.”

Even as he utters those words, not a hint of irritation darkens his tone. Sliding the glasses back on his nose, he shoots you a grin before walking past you - the lenses have already cleared up enough for you to notice a glint of complacency shining in his eyes.

Well, if this is the price for you to be insufferable then who would you be as not to accept this generous offer, you muse to yourself as you follow him into the kitchen.

[slowlymyavenue]

SYMBIONT

For instructive purposes, you should have a glass of water nearby before you continue.

Those of you who haven't yet encountered the black fluid are likely curious as to precisely what it is. The description will require a bit of imagination, but it is very much worthwhile. Consider the glass of water, for a moment.

Water provides a basic perspective through which to view the black fluid. You understand most of the properties of water on a fundamental level: the way it feels, the way it flows, the way it cools, the way it quenches thirst, the way it can soothe. It is a basic facet of life on earth. But what if there was something more to it?

Imagine, for instance, a droplet of ink falling into the glass of water. You have some idea of how it behaves in the water, how it tinges the fluid for a moment as it dissolves. There's a second of sharp contrast, and in that instant you can perceive something as the ink flows over its surface inside the water - something that was invisible in the water before.

This is the form of the black fluid. The appearance changes depending on the viewer. For some, it is a sphere within the water. Others see the outline of a spiral. Just as quickly as the ink illuminated it, the black fluid disappears within the water once more.

Now you are intrigued, so let's explore. Dip your finger into the water, right where the ink blot was before it vanished. Bring the droplet out, and place it on your wrist.

The water flows along your skin in its familiar fashion, but you notice the faintest film beneath. It is heavier than the water, and it feels distinct, but it is little more than a light pressure on the surface of your skin.

Like water, the black fluid can flow across anything. Unlike water, the fluid behaves very differently on certain surfaces - like your skin. It can rest innocuously in a glass of water, in a shower, in a bathtub or spa...practically anywhere. Once it touches your skin, however, it becomes very reactive. The fluid begins to expand, and you can feel it doing so: a light tingling sensation on your wrist. It is a bit strange at first, but generally pleasant.

Whereas water expands to fill a container, the black fluid expands to become a container. This requires energy, of course, so you should know that the black fluid is drawing that energy from you. It pulls at your curiosity, and your thoughts fuel its expansion. The pull, much like the pressure, is subtle and light; you wouldn't notice it if you weren't fixated on it already.

You are fixated on it, though, and the fluid has already encircled your wrist. The more skin it covers, the more it begins to thicken and take shape. You can tell now that it is smooth, sleek. It feels cool against your skin at first, but quickly warms to match your temperature. The black fluid adapts quickly, and it will go to great lengths to keep you comfortable.

By now, you can tell that it is actively feeding on your thoughts. It makes your mind a bit sluggish, but there is a kind of pleasure in that unresponsiveness. The fluid behaves symbiotically. That is, while you feed it thoughts, it gives you pleasure. That was the source of the light tingling sensation before. It was simply too faint to tell the nature of the feeling. It is no longer so faint, and the fluid has covered your hand.

I'm sure you're curious, so run the fingers of that hand along your other arm. The black fluid feels smooth, almost rubbery. It also takes the opportunity to spread from your fingers to your arm and continue expanding, faster now. It is almost like it can tell you are focused on it. As the fluid expands on both of your arms, the pull on your thoughts grows significantly stronger...as does the pleasure you receive when each thought disappears.

It isn't an obstruction to the fluid, but you will enjoy the sensation more without your clothes. Take them off, if you haven't already. You'll find that the movement causes the fluid to spread everywhere you touch. It clings to you like a second skin.

I call it the black fluid because black ink illuminates it. It can shift colors to suit your preferences - as I mentioned, it will go to great lengths to keep you comfortable. You are its host, after all.

Without clothes, you can more easily savor the sensation of the black fluid expanding to contain you. Take a moment now to do just that. The fluid will flow much faster along your skin if you actively give it your thoughts. Close your eyes, and deliberately feed the fluid. Take in the pleasure it gives you as it covers your body. Once you are covered from the neck down, you'll open your eyes and continue.

It hasn't been an issue so far, but it is fair to inform you that the black fluid can control any part of you that it covers. Now, as an example, it causes you to firmly squeeze your breasts. The act allows you to recognize another property of the fluid. When you have run out of thoughts, it begins to feed on your will. When you run out of will, it begins to feed on your arousal.

Covering your body gives the black fluid a far more potent ability to influence your mind. You find yourself deeply attracted to the notion of feeding the black fluid your will and your arousal. It is difficult to entertain any other ideas, right now.

While you are entertaining the thought of feeding the black fluid, it is moving your hand to your pussy and causing you to stroke slowly. The fluid amplifies sensation to make up for covering you, so you feel far more sensitive than you are used to being. Enjoy that sensitivity, and appreciate your perception of the fluid feeding on your resulting arousal.

It will soon become very difficult to read, as the black fluid can sometimes get overzealous in its feeding when it first covers a new symbiotic host. That's okay - for now, your exploration can be strictly physical. We'll get to the rest later.

Allow the fluid to compel you to stroke your pussy, your breasts, your nipples. Fixate on the desire to feed the black fluid your thoughts, will, and arousal. It is going to bring you to orgasm at least once, typically twice, before it recedes from your skin to await its next feeding. While you stroke, you may close your eyes or you may sit attentively and stare into the image below. You'll drift back to consciousness shortly after the fluid recedes.

As always, enjoy.

[mpregandproud]

THE BEACH

I love going to the beach. Since I was very young I have loved going down to the beach, lying on the sand to sunbathe and spend the day swimming in the sea. The beach recharges my batteries and fills me with life, it's like medicine for me.

Now that I'm in the final days of my pregnancy, and I'm on paternity leave, every day I go to the beach for a while. I like to take the car and look for a remote and quiet place. I look for secluded places with few people so I can go nudist. With the size of my belly, any swimsuit is too tight. So the best way I feel is leaving my belly free, getting a tan and feeling the breeze of the air all over my skin.

Today I have chosen a beautiful and tiny beach. It's between some cliffs, with crystal clear water and a few shady trees. I put my towel under one of these trees and took off all my clothes. I apply cream all over my body, and feel that my belly is harder than normal, and a little lower. I guess it will be normal at 38 weeks, I should be going into labor any minute now. Today will be my last visit to the beach, as a precaution I will stay home until after delivery.

As soon as I lay down I fell asleep. The temperature is so pleasant and the sound of the waves has made me fall asleep. It must have been a couple of hours since I arrived when I woke up again. My baby has started to move more than usual. I feel intermittent pressure. I'm guessing Braxton Hicks contractions.

I get up from the towel and head for the water. I'm going to swim for a while, which I'm sure will ease the pain and soothe my son. He's just like his father, big and very mobile, what a nine months he's given me. I am kidding, the best nine months of my life. Sam and I were going through a rough patch, and this baby came along to fill our lives with love...and sex. We've never fucked as much as we have these past few months. They say hormones make you horny, but I don't know if me or my husband has been hornier this time.

I swim for a while. I walk with my belly underwater, caressing the pronounced curve of my belly. This little guy doesn't want to settle down today, and the contractions are getting stronger. Am I going into labor? I should pack up my things and go home. I have to let Sam know he's going to be a daddy very soon.

I start to get out of the water with great difficulty. Every few steps a pain runs through my body and forces me to stop. When I get my breath back, I get going again. As soon as I get out of the water I feel something is wrong. The strongest contraction I have ever felt... and then a river of water pours into my crotch. No doubt about it, I'm in labor and this baby doesn't want to wait. I bring my hands to my belly as if trying to grab it from underneath and try to reach my towel. I'm finding it harder and harder to walk, my steps are more and more clumsy.

By the time I get to my towel I am so exhausted that all I can do is sit down and spread my legs. I convince myself that it will only take a few minutes to catch my breath and get back on the road to catch the car and go to a hospital. Another contraction and the pressure grows enormously in my hole. I let out a moan. It's coming, and I'm going to have it on the beach. This boy may be big like his dad, but he likes the beach like his daddy.

With my hand I feel my hole. I feel hair, it's the boy's head, it can't be, he's already here! The pain gets worse, I'm sweating and trembling. I moan non-stop and writhe in pain. A man who was with some children at the other end of the beach, and who I swear is also pregnant, approaches me and touches my belly. "Easy, breathe, I'm here to help you. Don't worry, everything will be fine. I've given birth twice...and in a couple of months I'll be giving birth to twins. I know how this goes. Relax, I'm going to help you deliver your little one", he tells me. His calm voice reassures me, I know I'm in good hands.

My legs spread wider and wider to make way for my son. Almost effortlessly, but with a great deal of pain, his head pops out. This child wants out and is not willing to waste a minute. I take a breath and start with the shoulders. More pain, screaming, sweat and fluids. I imagined giving birth to my son in a hospital, with my husband next to me and my body clean. How delusional.

The baby finally comes out and I wrap him in the T-shirt I brought to come to the beach. "Congratulations, you were very brave. You just had a beautiful and very big baby boy. Congratulations" the man says. I'm crying, my son is crying too. I sit down and rest my son on my flabby belly, it has lost the size it had after giving birth, but it is still swollen. It will be hard for me to lose all the kilos I have gained during these nine months of eating non-stop for two.

When we have calmed down a bit I grab my phone from my backpack and call Sam. "Hi my love. I'm at the beach and you won't believe it. Congratulations, you just became a daddy. This little guy didn't want to wait and he's born now, can you come pick us up? I love you".

I have never been so happy in my life. I am in tears with emotion. I breastfeed my baby while I wait for Sam to arrive. I see the man who helped me playing with his two children on the shore with a huge belly of twins. He smiles at me when he sees me breastfeeding my baby. Now I know, I want a big family like his.