#this was written entirely so that I could get back into the swing of things because I feel so out of practice

[anto-pops]

A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious. 

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in. 

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out. 

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like. 

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth. 

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call. 

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard. 

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts. 

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him. 

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not. 

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior. 

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions. 

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?” 

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication. 

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him. 

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.” 

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea. 

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.” 

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second. 

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress. 

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?” 

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer. 

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge. 

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those. 

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back. 

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.” 

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.” 

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.” 

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?” 

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?” 

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?” 

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.” 

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man. 

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet. 

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets. 

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes. 

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you. 

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life. 

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.” 

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now. 

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.” 

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man. 

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you’d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds. 

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too. 

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs. 

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging. 

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh. 

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good. 

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would. 

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets. 

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh. 

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.” 

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.” 

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?” 

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?” 

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.” 

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.” 

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.” 

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic. 

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.” 

Completely idiotic. 

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body. 

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?” 

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.” 

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing. 

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.” 

“…Come again?” 

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.” 

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” 

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.” 

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets. 

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.” 

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze. 

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.” 

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily. 

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request. 

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist. 

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin. 

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it. 

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you. 

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result. 

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.” 

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. 

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end. 

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely. 

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful. 

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed. 

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction. 

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going. 

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step. 

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him. 

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap. 

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.” 

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?” 

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips. 

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?” 

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood. 

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble. 

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again. 

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath. 

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy. 

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer. 

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were. 

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further. 

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank. 

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage. 

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath. 

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer. 

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him. 

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was. 

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement. 

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point. 

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hii, this is my first time requesting and I wanted to know if you could do an Alastor x hard to get fem reader, who is somewhat stronger than him in the beginning, but as Alastor fights more overlords he gets stronger and tries to woo her into a relationship with him and she is just not having it. Maybe he goes as far as killing a member of the Goetia family to prove his strength but in turn makes the reader like panic and cast him away from her. Maybe Alastor wins her back by taking care of someone that’s been bother her than she doesn’t have time to deal with, like a stalker or something. I hope this wasn’t too much, I just really love your writing!

A/N: kiss your brain i love this so much!!! I love writing for Alastor and i’m so excited for the show to come out so this makes me extra excited!! I haven’t written in a little while so I apologize if this was a bit off, still getting into the swing of things! But I hope this was good!

Warnings: Obsessiveness, slight yandere!, murder, power trip, mentions of death, cannibalism, mentions of blood

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Hard to get

Meeting you wasn’t something Alastor thought would affect him as much as it did

You were different, but a different that scared him and he hated that

Your power and calmness together sent shivers down his spine, it gave him an adrenaline he had been craving and he didn’t even know it

After his fight with you he had fled, to hide away bask in your energy

He had gone as far as studying you from afar, watching the way you carried yourself and the way you went about your day

He would become stronger than you, to take you down but to also have you as his own; his bride

In his eyes you were a prize to be cherished, someone to love so dearly you wouldn’t need to lift a finger again

He had talked to you during a meeting with other overlords, after everyone was done cowering from his power

You were quiet, stoic and didn’t say much- hell you didn’t even spare him a glance

¨Hello dear!¨Alastor said calmly to you after the meeting.

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him with a blank face, waiting for him to continue

¨May I help you?¨You asked, and he just grinned

¨Why yes you may! I couldn’t help but take notice to how awfully somber you looked all by your lonesome and felt it was my duty to accompany you.¨He said with a grin, leaning down to get a better look at your features.

¨I was actually doing quite fine before you came along thank you.¨You say, facing away from him and turning your nose up slightly. You clearly couldn’t be bothered to socialize with someone like him. His smile stretched painfully wide and he fought every urge to pull you to him right there.

¨Well I-¨

You cut him off

¨If you wouldn’t mind, the stench of blood is heavily present on you and I’d appreciate it if you cleaned yourself up properly and kindly left me alone. I’d hate to have a repeat of our first meeting.¨You said, side eyeing him.

He was stunned to say the least, and without another word, walked away from you, his dignity in shards at his feet.

You had really pushed him over this edge and a part of him was living for it but the other part really wanted to burn the entire city down.

Weeks went by and he was silent for a while, pondering over your words and what you had said. Clearly your standards were high, higher than him by far. He would have to play better.

He began taking his anger out on other overlords, claiming territory day by day and night by night. His carnage all over the radio, for you to hear. His subliminal message to you, that he was a changed man. Ready to be the man you needed him to be.

¨Please, whatever you want Ill give it to you, just please enough of this!¨ The overlord shrieked as Alastor rummaged through their belongings, his shadows making work of their lower ranked demons.

He stops when he sees a picture of you on their wall, a photo, where you were actually smiling.

Words couldn’t express how his dead heart felt, he was in such a state of shock he didn’t even remember killing the poor overlord. What a shame, and here he thought he could’ve asked some good questions about you.

He keeps the picture for himself, along with a file the overlord had made about you

Clearly you were smarter than you let on, because the file was made up of small things almost anyone could gather about you- poised, confident, but quiet

Alastor had made his way to where you resided, a large estate in a rural area, with a tower attached to the back of the building. It was gorgeous and seemingly had you written all over it.

Stepping onto the front grounds, he took notice to how the grass was withered and dead, but sharp black roses decorated the steps leading up to you’re front door. It was so elegant, so precise. So much so he had fallen in love all over again.

He hadn’t bothered to get flowers, knowing you would probably take them and kill them right in front of him.

Knocking on the door three times he waited quietly, hearing light footsteps make their way to the door.

A smaller, frail woman opened the door, and he smiled politely down at her.

¨Hello sir, I believe her majesty is not available right now. Though she expected your arrival. Would you care to come inside and wait for her with some hot tea?¨ The small woman asked.

Alastor just nodded and stepped inside, taking the interior in as best as he could, hoping to burn the image into his brain. The smaller woman led him through various halls, all elegantly decorated by your hand as she explained, before leading him to your study, a large library with a glass windows all around.

He took a seat, taking the liberty to put a record on, slowly humming to the jazz as he waited for your arrival.

Some time later you stepped in, Góetia prince in toe as you pulled a book from the higher shelves with your magic, handing it to the prince.

¨I believe this was all¨ was all you said. He nodded, the two of you giving Alastor a quick glance before shaking hands. The Goetia prince turned on his heel and left quickly, leaving you to deal with Alastor.

¨You have proven to be a constant thorn in my side.¨You sigh, sitting across from Alastor in your study. He just grins, finally happy to have some of your attention.

¨Well a thorn does belong on a rose, does it not?¨He asked, and you clicked your tongue.

¨Roses get their thorns cut off.¨You reply, still cold and monotone. There’s no expression on your face, and its then he takes in your appearance.

Dressed from head to toe in a long black dress that hugs you quite nicely. Your hair is done back, away from your face, making your features all the more present. You sit cross legged, and don’t say much else, waiting for a response.

¨Well that is also true.¨Alastor finally draws out. You hum, leaning back in your chair.

¨What it is you want from me?¨You ask finally, eyes shutting for a moment.

¨Well I-¨Alastor stops, the door opening to reveal the smaller woman again.

¨Excuse me your majesty, but the prince is back- and quite enraged.¨She said nervously, a loud crash coming from down the hall. You sigh, standing.

¨A moment please.¨You excuse yourself, leaving the study. The small woman stays inside, and Alastor decides to take this time to question her.

¨That prince, is he?¨Alastor asks, and the small woman shakes her head.

¨Goodness no, her majesty would never get with royalty. She’s trying to get away from that life.¨The small woman said. So the prince wasn’t your prince, that was for sure.

¨How long has she been down here?¨Alastor asks, knowing his arrival had been pretty recent.

¨twenty years. Died on March fifth, 1909.¨ The small woman said. ¨She was a child when she died, but thankfully to her power, she can continue to age as much as she wants here. Per her family’s request.¨ The woman said.

¨I hope you two are having fun gossiping.¨You said stepping back into the room, flicking a piece of glass off of your hand. Alastor sits up, now a bit more confident in talking to you.

¨Oh the most fun one could have.¨Alastor draws on, the small woman nodding to him as she steps out. You take your place back across from him, massaging your temples.

¨Lets get on with this shall we.¨You say, ¨I don’t know what you want from me. But let it be known I have felt you watching me, lurking as one would say. If you don’t want a detachment from your head to your torso I would politely suggest you leaving me alone.¨You say, your eyes sharper, but tone still calm. He could see the enragement behind your tone.

¨Why don’t we have dinner? I can explain much more than my dear.¨

¨Do not call me that.¨You say, and he laughs.

¨I will not be so easily swayed, unfortunately for you.¨He says grinning. He stands, tapping his staff on the ground to wake his radio up. ¨I do believe that my visit must be cut short. I have more sinners to erase!¨He grins happily, poofing himself out of the room and elsewhere thanks to his shadow.

You don’t hear from him for quite some time, and its almost comforting. He kept his distance at overlord meetings, even though fewer overlords were alive to be present thanks to him.

You had began getting small gifts, and seeing shadows whenever you turned corners. Almost like a mind game. Though you were sure it was him, you had more important things to tend too than his childish games.

It wasn’t until you had gotten home from the Goetia ball that you were face to face with him again.

In the foyer of your home, black tiles stained red, Alastor stood in the middle of the mess. The Goetia prince beheaded in your home.

¨What have you done?!¨You yelled, panic settling in. Alastor had worked so hard for this. A Goetia prince? Hell royalty was a new kill for him truly.

¨He wont bother you anymore my dear, of course I had hoped the mess would be cleaned by now but the fight he put up was quite time consuming.¨He said with a chuckle.

¨Alastor get out. Now.¨You said, and it was then he had froze. You were surrounded by an aura of black smoke, breathing heavy and eyes going full white. The room had began to get darker, and the doors behind you flung open, wind raging as he fought to keep his feet planted on the ground.

¨Cant we just-¨

¨I said- get, out.¨You said, swapping places with him in a blink of an eye, having his body pushed through your doorway with the wind, sending him into the forest far away from your home.

It had been ten years since then.

Alastor had felt defeated. He had tried all he could. Gifts, flowers, cleaning up your messes that you refused to admit were yours. Hed taken out such awful suitors who thought they had a chance with you.

It wasn’t until the next overlord meeting, when you didn’t show up, he had gotten worried. He knew he should’ve stayed away. But he just couldn’t. He hadn’t looked you in the eye for so long, but putting his own fear judgment aside, he decided to check up on you. Rosie, a friend he had acquired, had told him one visit wouldn’t hurt.

He found your doors wide open, the area eerily quiet, the dust coating your home entirely out of character for you. A man stood in your foyer, calling your name over and over frustrated.

¨ Please Y/n,talk to me! Anything!¨He said. The man was trying his hardest to get you to show yourself.

¨Excuse me.¨ Alastor said, and the man turned to look at him.

¨Who the fuck are you?¨ The man asked, and Alastor just smiled.

¨ Someone you’re going to wish you never met.¨ he said. The man doesn’t have time to react, his bones breaking on him, as he collapses on the floor with a loud shriek of pain. It draws out for a bit before the man finally dies, a slice to his chest shutting him up as he chokes on his own blood. Alastor hums as his shadows make quick work of cleaning the mess he made. He knew you hated your tiles stained.

¨Alastor?¨ You ask, standing at the top of the staircase. Your hair is down, still in the same dress Alastor had memorized so well. He smiles, his dead heart freezing over at the sight of you.

¨hello dear. Forgive me for my sudden intrusion. You weren’t at todays meeting and I thought to check up on you.¨He said, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiping his hands with it. You walked down the steps slowly, taking in the shadows working on the now dead man on your floor.

¨ Did you do this?¨You asked, looking through the open door of your home. Your voice was softer than before. You looked a mess, but almost put together in a way. As if you were only slightly losing your mind.

¨Yes.¨He said, taking your hand and pulling you closer to him. He figured this was his last shot with you. Now that he had you here, he had to take advantage.

¨Mon cheri, I know you casted me away all those years ago. But I have you here now, and I cannot hold this will in my heart any longer without telling you.¨He said, his other hand turning your face to have you look at him. Your eyes were different this time, something he couldn’t read. But still, he kept on. ¨ I believe my love for you is strong in itself. I can protect you, you wont ever have to worry about some deadly sinner like this again. I know you didn’t believe I was capable of making you happy. But I must know now, if I am truly worthy of your love. I will do whatever it takes.¨ He said.

Your eyes were dark, with something he could only describe as pure lust. ¨Alastor please, you always were.¨You say with a smile. He had been so, immature before. But after years it seemed he changed, on the surface that was. Maybe you could give him a chance. Maybe he was worth coming out of the dark for a bit. Especially now, since he was stronger than you.

¨But, you must promise me something.¨ You say to him, and he nods quickly.

¨Of course.¨ He says. You grin at his willingness, and turn away from him, the mess he made now long gone.

¨Do not ever play me for a fool again.¨ You say. He stiffens and nods, hands as gently as possible reaching out for you.

He turns around around to face him, and almost jumps when he hears the doors to your home slam shut.

You don’t bat an eye, instead pulling him in by his tie and with a chuckle, eye his shadows as they snicker in a corner at the sight of the two of you. ¨ Dont worry, I know you wont.¨

Alastor just grinned, finally proud of himself. Not only had he gotten his power, no, he had gotten his hands on you as well.

[denjjisgf]

SHE LIVES IN MY LAP

megumi fushiguro x reader

SYNOPSIS ✧˚⋆｡ in an unexpected turn of events, you find yourself falling into the sheets with a new friend. as the days get shorter and nights no longer sticky and hot, your insatiable summer hookup appears to be more than just a seasonal arrangement.

CONTENT WARNINGS✧˚⋆｡ general: 18+ minors dni, alcohol consumption, megumi is a fuckboy sex!! minors dni!!! nsfw: afab (she/her) reader, vaginal sex, oral (m&f! receiving), 69ing, m! masturbation

W/C✧˚⋆｡9.1k 

AUTHOR'S NOTE✧˚⋆｡ hihi! it's been so long since i've written anything. this a repost of a series i decided to scrap, i've decided to come back from the dead to finish it in a one- shot! i hope everyone likes it __〆(￣ー￣ )

playlist

JUNE✧˚⋆

notification center:

[ suguru:: we’ll be there in ten. make sure to bring sunscreen! ]

[ satoru:: and make sure to wear something skimpy ;) ]

you set down your phone with huff, trying to suppress a chuckle at your friends. checking the time one last time, you scramble to get the last of your things, tossing everything and anything in your bag. three rasps at the door stops you in your tracks, your sandal clad feet patter to your front door as you wonder who could possibly be here. standing in the frame was gojo, forearm lazily propped against the wood, leaning into you with a proud look on his face. 

“you guys said ten minutes, it’s been three, satoru. i’m still not ready.”

cerulean eyes peer down at you over gojo’s staple circle frames, a smug smile adorning his face as he gives you a quick up and down look. “well, good thing you still have time to change. i said skimpy, i know you can do better,” he says with a smile and mocking tone. almost as if it was rehearsed, the lanky silver fox’s partner in crime pops his head out behind gojo’s shoulder. “don’t be mean satoru!” suguru says with a playful slap on gojo’s shoulder. “you look great, y/n. let’s head out!”

the car ride to the docks is just as you had expected: chaotic. the two men argued the entire way, each one convinced they knew the best way to a place they have never been too. and at gojo’s instance, the three of you ended up taking a twenty minute detour in the wrong direction. when you finally pull into the dirt parking lot, suguru turns in his seat to face you in the backseat, “we’re here,” he says, a hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “sorry about the confusion earlier. satoru said he looked up directions before we left, but i should’ve known better than to trust him.” 

“what are you talking about? look! we are here!” gojo’s exclaims pridefully, swinging open his door and stepping out. he stretches, hands linking together over his head with a sigh, his loose t-shirt raising just a little to expose his milky white skin and toned body. “and it’s all thanks to my great directional skills.”

your door opens suddenly, suguru’s head peeking inside wearing his gentle and familiar smile, linking his arm with yours to pull you out of the backseat. “so,” you turn to suguru questioningly, “how exactly do you two know these people?” 

instead, gojo replies, quick and concise. sneaky almost. “close friends. we go way back. i practically raised those kids, taught ‘em everything they know.” suguru snickers at his friend’s words, the pair exchanging a dangerous glance that, if you didn’t know them as well as you did, you would’ve missed. “almost a little too well, if you asked me,” the dark hair man added, lips upturned into an innocent smile, but eyes deadly and secretive. all too knowing if you said so yourself. the two men continued on the path towards the docks where the party was being held, long strides keeping themselves paces ahead of you, ending the conversation abruptly. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you shout expectantly, patiently waiting for an answer, but dying on the inside to know.  suguru stops in his tracks, head looking over his shoulder and gaze falling on your own.

“what’s the fun in telling you now?”

ᰔ summer was megumi’s favorite time of year. it always brought his favorite things: reckless decisions and girls in bikinis. he made a sport of feeding hot girls sugar sweet words like frozen strawberry daiquiris, serenading them into his bed night after night. his friends’ annual summer kickoff party was his ideal playing field, so many people, so many choices, he never knows where to start. 

you see, there are several factors that went into the tradition of their party. now that he and nobara left for college, yuuji, commuting locally, prepared the get to together in their arrival. a proper summer kickout. on the surface level, it appeared to be a fun, festive way for people to get shitfaced, washing away the stress and anxiety of finals with clear liquor and cheap beer, but for megumi, it was so much more than that. when summer finally rolls around, the heat melts off layers of clothes, making everyone hot and bothered in other ways besides the weather. it’s everyone’s fantasy to have a silver screen summer fling, after all, no one wants to spend the hottest time of year alone. this party was the perfect setting for lonely women to lay some groundwork and find the perfect rent-a-boyfriend for three months. and what’s better than horny, hopeful women?, megumi thought. 

megumi plays his role of the cool, calm, and collected silent guy like a pro, having girls all on him or stealing glances and fluttering their lashes when he comes around. he smiles to himself, scrolling through the new additions to his contacts list. the familiar ring of laughter causes his ears to perk up, raising his head to find the friendly faces of gojo and suguru. trailing behind them was someone he had never met. 

who, are you?  

his stare drifted to meet gojo’s, the white haired man pushing his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and raising an eyebrow with a taunting smirk. megumi didn’t need words to know what gojo was telling him- come say hello, i know you want to. he turns to face the other direction, legs moving to walk as far away from you before curiosity gets the best of him and he caves into gojo’s all too tempting game. 

nursing a solo cup filled with god knows what, megumi stalks you the entire party. he can’t seem to take his eyes off you, being short and brash when girls come up to him, focus completely astray and only on you. his eyes widen, swallowing thickly as he watches suguru and gojo tug and pull at your coverup, nudging you to undress and get in the water with them. gojo pulls your hands into his own, holding them up above your head. he yanks you closer, bringing your face inches from his own causing you to recoil into suguru’s chest, ass pressed firmly to the front of his hips. turning to look his younger friend dead in the eyes, the smallest glint of daring challenge reflecting in suguru’s dilating pupils, fingers teasingly playing with the hem of your sundress. 

megumi glares. hard. jealousy disguised as irritation, his jaw ticks at the spectacle his friends are putting on. regardless, he feels himself get warm, fidgeting with the collar of a shirt that he wasn’t wearing and readjusting the discomfort in his swim trunks. he watches, making eye contact with suguru, who has long since abandoned his hovering position and settled below you, face in front of your ass. large hands slide the flowy fabric up your thighs, bunching it at the tops of your hips and sliding a finger under the waistband of your bikini bottoms, snapping it against your skin. you gasp at the sudden smack to your sensitive skin, your mouth making a pretty o shape that has megumi’s eyes rolling. “oops, my bad i didn't mean to snag you there,” the dark haired man purrs, soothing the sting with a careful rub. you shove the two of them away, a scowl dressed on your face, “i can undress myself without the help of you idiots. what are you doing?” despite your tone, megumi can clearly see your frazzled state, red blush spread across your cheeks and chest. 

you dirty girl, i bet you liked that, huh?

megumi’s mind was running a hundred miles an hour. he couldn’t stand to be here anymore. you had long abandoned your dress and your bathing suit left little to the imagination. the straps of your top digging into your neck, triangles cover the bare minimum of your breasts leaving them spilling out the sides. sitting down in a lounger, he faked innocence, sunglasses set high on the bridge of his nose to cover his wandering eyes. he kept a close eye on you throughout  the party, observing the way your body moved as you danced, as you emerged from the water, wet and dripping.

the last straw was when suguru and gojo convinced you to join them at the makeshift bar on the shore. the two men took turns mixing you drinks in plastic cups, laughing at your pinched face as you downed drink after drink, the bitter taste of alcohol making you stick your pretty, pink tongue out in disgust. yet, you continued to take cups from your friends, enjoying the light fuzziness and lowered inhibitions taking over your body. raising your cup to you lips, suguru tipped the bottom to make you down the contents, the burning sensation of liquor running down your throat and trickling out of the corners of your shiny lips. long slender fingers pluck the plastic cup from your hands with a chuckle, “woahh, slow down there. you’re making an awful mess of yourself.” gojo tilts your face up to his own and checks to make sure megumi is watching. he brings his thumb to swipe away the remnants of the sticky liquid running down your chin and licks it off his finger. that’s it, megumi thought, standing up from his seat to leave the party, his nerves beyond irritated from his friend’s incessant dick measuring. 

“yo! megumi!” yuuji calls out, running towards his raven haired friend. “do me a favor and run up the road to get some ice bags! the beers are drowning in warm water right now,” with a firm grasp on your wrist, the energetic boy spins you away from your conversation and straight into a stranger with a thud. your hand laid flat against the expanse of their chest, holding yourself steady from yuuji’s previous uncontrolled movements. 

“i even found you a buddy to go with you! megumi, meet y/n.”

“it’s, uhm-” he falters, hints of crimson bashfully spread over his cheeks, conscious of the heat your palm emanates onto his bare skin, manicured nails scratching lightly over his peck and sending shivers down his spine. he felt like a fool, finally getting the opportunity to have you and all he can do is fumble over his words. your doe eyes were wide and glossy from the alcohol, and what only you know as desire. looking into his eyes, dark and narrowed, attention solely focused on you, you feel yourself get hot. shy almost. you chalk it up to being tipsy bordering on drunk. 

“c’mon bro, take the keys,” the jingle of car keys cut short as megumi brings his hand up to catch the lanyard haphazardly tossed at him. “now hurry up! everyone’s waiting!” megumi rolls his eyes and takes your hand in his own, dragging you towards the parking lot. “hold on, let me tell my friends i’m leaving! what if you kill me or something?” 

“don’t worry about it, gojo and geto were invited here by me. you’ll be fine.” you stop in your tracks, almost losing your balance in the soft sand, “wait, so you’re the one who invited us.” 

“invited them, you mean. just,” he sighs with frustration,”let’s go, i want to get there and back.” he drops your hand and begins to walk away, leaving you in his shadow. “are you coming or not?” he asks, looking over his shoulder, low eyes and the smallest of smiles, willful temptation written all over his face. 

“yea. i’m coming.” 

leaving a few steps of space between yourselves, megumi leads you through the maze of the parking lot. stopping at a car you can only assume as yuuji’s, you watch the dark haired boy squeeze his way to the passenger’s side door and opening it. “i’ve been drinking, i really shouldn’t drive.” 

he sighs, shoulders dropping in exasperation as if he can’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth. in an instant, you feel his hand wrapped delicately around your wrist, fingers hovering over your pulse point, your heart beating faster as he slides you front of him and ushers you into the seat. he leans into you, faces inches from yours and eye contact never breaking. for just a moment, the two of you drink in the sights of each other. you admire the faint scatter of sun blessed freckles on the bridge of his nose, the curvature of his lips, soft and slightly pouted. and in this moment, you can’t help but find him attractive. just for a moment though. 

“don’t you think i know that? you practically crawled on all fours to catch up.”

he moves swiftly, pulling the seat belt over your lap, clicking it into place. you look to the side, avoiding his stare and he can do everything but ignore the subtle pink dusting across the highpoints of your face, the smallest of indents forming as you bit the inside of your cheek, deep in thought. you were bothered by his words and he loved it. something about seeing you like this, annoyed and bothered. he needed to see more. as wrong as it was, he was losing it, he could feel himself being pushed to the edge, the threads of intricate control being snipped, leaving him loose and fraying. megumi loved his flirtatious games too much, but needed more time to pull you apart, like lovesick girls do to flowers, petal after petal till nothing was left. bare. 

“too tight?” he asks. you shake your head, unable to speak, words unspoken on your tongue and thoughts void from you mind, plucked away by his nimble touch and wrapped around his finger. “let’s go then.”

ᰔ “soo,” his hand meets to back of your headrest. “do you like to cuddle?” he cranes his neck, hooded eyes low and lazy as he searches the back windshield, reversing from the parking spot. 

your faces twists with displeasement, jaw dropped and eyebrows knitted together, “what kind of fucking question is that?”

“the kind of question to get you to make that face,” his voice honeyed and teasing as he counters your expected response. silence fills the car, satisfaction spread out in a small smile and slightly crinkled eyes as megumi soaks in your frazzled reaction. he likes to see you irritated, to push your buttons. megumi likes to toy with headstrong women, to make them whining messes for an arrogant man. an asshole. you could practically hear the winning bell ring: megumi, one. his game of banter beginning with your speechless defeat. 

but he was gorgeous. his hair dark and perfectly messy, his bangs swooped low enough to shape his face but show off his eyes. colored like a storm, you could stare into them for hours. the summer sun did his justice, his tanned skin glistening under its magnification. a physique of the gods, you try not to stare and he pretended not to notice. 

you settle into your seat, the alcohol catching up and sending your head spinning. watching out the window, you fall into your thoughts, figuring out a way to break the silence. “so what’s your deal?” you exclaim, folding your hands into your lap and turning to look at megumi, focused on the road and contently ignoring you. “i know you have so much going on inside that pretty little head of yours.”

“y’know, i saw you drink a lot, maybe you should stop talking and save these questions for later? maybe when you’re sober?” 

you roll your head to your shoulder to turn to him with small smirk. oh, so he wants to be like that, “and i saw you talking to a lot of girls, maybe you should stop being a slut?”

he chuckles, side eyeing you with a playful glare and a tick in his jaw, clearly enjoying the banter. “i bet you think you’re real funny.” 

“and you must think you’re cute. we all have our flaws, megumi.” 

he slides his palm along the wheel, turning into a parking spot and bringing the car to a stop. he hops out of the driver’s side, jogging around front of the car and opens your door. he follows you over to the white cooler in the front of the convenience store where you play with the padlock, the hinges creaking as pull the handle open. 

reaching into the ice cooler you tug on the bag relentlessly. megumi brings his hand to grip onto the door’s frame, leaning in behind you, his breath shallow and warm against the shell of your ear. “do you need help?” the sheeted ice cementing the plastic down to the bottom of the container loosens as it cracks, “from you? no thanks.” you lean down into the cooler to yank on the bag with better leverage, determined to prove a point: you did not need help, and you didn’t need megumi either. the plastic tears from the bag and your hand flies up causing you to stumble backwards, banging your head on the roof of ice box. you yelp, quick to bring a hand up to your throbbing head, wincing at the touch. you turn to lean your back against the cool metal only to be met by megumi, who takes the opportunity to get closer, his hands cupping your face with concern. he makes room for himself between your legs, inching closer to you, “are you alright? does it hurt?”

he leans in closer as he flits his gaze from your eyes to your lips as if he’s done this a million times.

it all happens so fast. you blink and he’s rushing you, pressing his lips firmly against your own. you tug at his shirt, opening your mouth when he runs his tongue over your bottom lip tantalizing slow, tasting you thoroughly. you both walk backwards, lost in the kiss, until you feels the hood of the car hit the back of your calves. you break away from each other panting lightly, your hand caressing alongside his jaw and his own planted firmly on your waist. you nod your head, motioning towards the car and he smiles.

he can’t keep his hands off of you. his hand scrambles to open the door, too distracted by the curves of your body, missing the handle a few times. you grab onto his shoulder, ushering him a few steps forward, pushing him in front of you to make room for the door as it swings open. “get inside,” he whispers shakily. his mind is racing, his voice long gone of its normal confidence to command.

you fall back, your skin making contact with the leather, hot to the touch and sticking to your sweat sheened back. you run your fingers through his hair as lowers to meet you, his knee bent between your legs, one hand parting your thighs, inviting himself in. scrambling back to make room, you seat yourself back pressed against the inside door. his hand comes up to the window with a slap, bracing himself above of you. your hand cradles his face, your thumb stroking along his jaw, before enveloping his lips with yours once again. you taste sweet like peaches, hints of tequila on your tongue as you take turns welcoming each other into your mouths. you mimic his breathless moans of pleasure and fill the car with your whines, your hips colliding with his thigh as you mindlessly grind against him. your kisses become sloppy, teeth gnashing and spit everywhere, desperation and need filling both of you to the brim. 

clutching his shirt in your fist, you use the momentum to push him into seat position, swinging one knee over his leg, and grounding yourself in his lap. he kisses you feverishly, his head light and spinning, completely overwhelmed by the intoxicating taste of you. adrenaline coursed through his veins at your movements, hips grinding slowly on top of him, relieving the pain of his aching cock. you thread your hands through his hair, carding through his soft locs before tugging his head back to expose his neck. a moan slips from his lips, pink, spit slicked and swollen while you smear kisses on his collarbone. he paws at your chest, he pulls your breasts out from your bikini top, taking a moment to admire you. 

“you’re so hot. i haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since i saw you,” he groans, a palm pressed to the small of your back he leans into you, taking your nipple into his mouth. you bring a hand up to rest on the crown of his head, moans spilling from your lips, coaxing him to continue. he eats up all of you. mentally recording every inch of your body, every cry sounding heaven in his ears, just to shamelessly replay this moment for his convenience. his hips cant with yours, messily grinding for relief when he reaches to pull his trunks down. “m-megumi, wait,” you plead and cup his face with both hands. he stops, panting between the valley of your chest, catching his breath while nuzzling against you. “not now, not here.” 

the two of you drove back to the lake in silence. separately your thoughts run wild at what just happened. pulling into a parking spot, megumi turns to you in the passenger’s seat, mouth agape slightly, the words you both want to hear on the tip of his tongue. he needs to see you again. the last thing megumi had expected this morning was to share a heated makeout session in the backseat of his best friend’s car with a borderline stranger. he never acts out of impulse, every decision thought out and calculated with precision. what you both had done crossed so many lines in megumi’s mind. honestly, what was he thinking?! it was broad daylight, parked in front of a mini convenience shop, while on a trip the two of you managed to stretch 20 minutes longer than it should have. he should be racked with guilt. he should be ashamed of his lack of self control. and if he was smarter, he should have never agreed to leave with you when yuuji asked. but something festered deep inside him, flipping up every stone of reason and leaving the boy on his hands and knees, grasping at the cool, level-headed persona he once had down to a t. 

twisting your head slightly, you scanned his face, searching for a clue- anything- to what he might say next. your fingers drummed on the car door, suddenly self conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. almost as if he sensed your discomfort, megumi drops his head down low to meet your eyes, a feather light slide of his fingers under your chin to draw you closer. a breath stops dead in your throat at his close proximity, noses grazing against one another as his takes his lower lip in between his teeth before looking sideways out the windshield. yuuji comes barreling at you two with an open smile, two cans held sloppily in both hands.

“‘s about time! what took so long? were you guys fucking or something?” he stutters out, a drunken flush to his sun kissed skin. megumi chokes at his friend’s comment, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously and guilt so obviously displayed on his face. you elbow him, motioning to grab the bags of ice in the backseat. you watch his arm reach down, the muscles in his bicep and forearms flexing deliciously, making your head spin and the dull throb of your arousal grow steadily. you have got to get out of this car. it was hard enough to keep your hands off of him in the parking lot earlier, but he was just too close. too accessible. too desirable. the things you wanted to do to him, the positions you wanted to bend into for him making you swoon. 

lost in your daydreams, you had failed to notice yuuji’s perplexed face and megumi’s shameful pout, like a puppy that chewed up its owner’s shoe, the energy now tense. “we forgot to buy the ice.”

ᰔ the worst part about apartment buildings are the thin walls. unfortunately for the neighbors of megumi’s current conquest and tomorrow’s history, they are the ones being royally screwed over that evening. bangs and thuds came from mutually sharing walls and laminate wood flooring belonging to a girl whose name megumi can’t seem to remember. rolling off her body and over onto the sheets, megumi stares up at the ceiling, a blank expression worn on his face. 

a hand creeps up his chest, a singular finger dragging up over the valley of his abs and scratching lightly over his chest teasingly. his mind begins to race, arousal causing his dick to twitch under the thin cotton sheets. megumi is no stranger to scores of nail shapes and crescents on his skin, littering his body, but this time, it just feels…well, it feels wrong. since your encounter the other day, he hasn’t been able to get you off his mind, his body buzzing with the excitement of a chase, of someone who won’t cave in right away and give him what he wants, of someone different. the physical gesture of the woman lying besides him so genuine can’t be anything but superficial when it’s your handprint branded into his skin instead. 

as soon as light snores fill the room, megumi rises from the bed, picking up his scattered clothes, eyes adjusting to dark. his phone buzzes on the nightstand next to him, the low vibration close to inaudible, but his ears pique up in anticipation. the screen illuminates a long awaited text message from an unknown number followed by another incoming notification; “come over.”

he had begged gojo and geto days ago for your number, swallowing his pride and stooping low to get the chance to see you again. at first, they had told him no, savoring the moment of keeping you their little secret and away from their junior’s prying eyes and wandering hands. it wasn’t often that the two had something megumi couldn’t. but after some calculated bribery and forced compliments and praise, gojo had slid your contact card into megumi’s messages. he had texted you immediately, too impatient to wait any longer and all too eager to get you underneath him, but his only response was a delivered text and empty chat. 

copying the address you sent, he pastes it into the maps app on his phone, his fingers shaking, adrenaline and desire replacing the blood in his pounding heart and sending it straight to his head. he’s delirious, head spinning and eyes blown out from lust. he feels like a teenage boy again, completely void of control and arousal raging throughout his entire body, consuming him whole. grabbing his keys, he opens the front door of the apartment and takes off. 

JULY✧˚⋆

ᰔ you’re deep into summer now, the buzz of power lines gentle while the world spins on around you. everyone has settled into the season, your city now booming with vacationers– seasonal and first timers– while locals stick to tradition. you love it, the late night bonfires, the crowds along the pier, seasonal fruit stands and sunrises. july is a constant stream of life and excitement, you thrive in the feeling of endless possibilities. 

shortly after the first time megumi pulled up to your place, he found himself tapping his homescreen, waiting for your texts nightly. you’d call for him and he would show up, the gas tank full and heart beating fast. he’d drive you to the not so secret secret look out spot, a perfect view of the valley and the lake, before unfolding you in the backseat with lust alone. yet only he knows this himself, deep down, that megumi would’ve gladly ripped open his chest and handed you his heart if it meant you could stay by his side in the eternal summer heat.

over the past month, you realized you hadn’t learned much about megumi. you knew he was simple. liked what he liked and didn’t what he didn’t. he never did stuff he didn't want to do, but acted selflessly at times. he was smart, always the most intelligent person in the room, for better or for worse. there was an unnerving edge to the man’s impenetrable walls that irritated you. despite the lack of intimate exchanges of emotion, you could no longer deny the feelings you had when you were with him. you had to tell him.

you couldn’t shake the fear of everything crashing and burning, your heart being stomped on when you inevitably find megumi buried in another person. he shamelessly used women, gardening a persona of the stoic playboy while away at college. if someone asked for proof, he’s got more than enough ‘are you up?’ messages and shameless videos reeking from his phone, the stench of his sexual conquests known without the visuals. he’s been spending so much time with you. he wouldn’t have the time to be messing around with other people, right? you tell yourself. just have fun, it’s a fling. it’s just sex. nothing more… right?

most nights, you’re straddling megumi in the driver's seat, one hand bracing yourself on the wheel, the other sliding against the center console, and both of you moaning at the sight of you slowly sinking down on his cock. 

“god, you feel so good. this all for me?” he slurs at the warm hug your pussy greets him with, “just accept it, this filthy pussy is mine.” he fucks you open with precision, molding your insides to fit him and only him. you pant, your lips open in the prettiest shape and drool collecting in your mouth while the stretch of him burns just right. veins prominent like he’s pumping iron, he grips on the fat of your hips to hold you up, your legs shaking while you slam down to meet his hips halfway. everything is so lewd, sweat perspirated on your foreheads and pressed together to breathe the same air. your eyes meet and he whines, the slapping sound of his balls hitting your ass fills the car. 

leaning back a little, you arch your back and let the moonlight bathe you from the foggy windshield. the coolness of the air relieves you from heat of his body moments before. he’s slowed down now, pushing his cock up to bury itself deeper inside of you with a slow grind. bringing his hand up to smack your tit hard, he leaves you red before smoothing away the pain with a tug on your nipple. a free hand finds comfort on your back while he takes your breast it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and nipping playfully when he pulls away. meeting your gaze, megumi’s dick throbs inside you at the sight and you feel him thicken and speed up his pace. 

“ah! o-oh my,” you’re cut short by the graze of his teeth along your bare chest, ghosting bites and leaving wet kisses. your walls coax him in with every thrust. you’re close and he’s gone, you feel him chasing after his orgasm as he draws you closer to yours. 

“megumi please- don’t stop! right there, megumi, -ah!” 

megumi moans, ropes of hot cum spilling over his hands as he falls back his pillows. it’s been a week since you’ve texted him. it’s been a week since that time in the car and he’s still chasing that feeling of your slick dripping down his dick while you squeezed him of everything he’s got. he feels unsatisfied while he takes a tissue and cleans himself, longing for your tongue wrapping around him, swallowing the load he haphazardly tosses into the wastebin. 

raking his hands through his hair, loose strands fall back to cover his eyes, and he searches his bedsheets for his phone. chains of messages and attachments crowded his notification center but none from you. he was disinterested in everyone but you; he thought about you constantly, wondering what you were doing at any given moment. he was infatuated and beyond annoyed. why are you suddenly playing hard to get? why do i miss you so much?

he never worked this hard, he was overly confident in his skills of making women scream and curl in his hands. but your quiet remarks of praise, the smallest “yes, megumi” or “megumi it feels so good” he’d do anything to hear that breathy tone you used just for him. now it’s been a week and he’s starting to miss you more than ever. 

ᰔ everyone has their favorite time of day. there are people that chase dawn like a dream and those who thrive in the mid hours. there are people who wait, soaking in the maturity of time till the late hours. and yours, were the times of day you laid in bed with megumi. 

a few midnight dates later, the boundary between you two was redrawn as megumi chased your up the stairs to your place. after a long night of 21 questions and the pad of mad libs you bought together now complete, you had settled into the car seats with heads turned to share a gaze for what felt like an infinity. summer lived around you, the sounds of insects and faint traffic in the background but inside the car with megumi, you were forever frozen. his phone chimes and the moment faded under the fluorescent light. “do you want to get that?” you asked, looking at the phone and back at him. 

“no. not really.” he reached for your hand, flipping it so his palm is flat against yours. locking eyes with your own, he spoke softly, “i was wondering if i could stay the night.”

graduating from the backseat, the two of you learned your bodies moved in sync, following the same mess of footsteps in the hall and onto your bed. he spun his hands over every inch of your body, devoted all night and getting lost in you as if it was the first time all over again. afterwards you’d laugh hours into in the morning, waking to outstretch in an empty bed, wondering what time he left this time.  

 from the very night you slid into his passenger seat, you were trapped. locked in by seatbelt, megumi became the driver of your summer’s escapade. night after night, days turned weeks, you grew to purr for the sound of his engine pulling up to the street in front of your house. his smile, those words of adoration he lets slip when you touch on him just the way he likes. what was once playful was treading dangerous waters. you chewed the cherry stem of your milkshake and woke up in the concerned look drawn on gojo’s face. 

“have anything you wanna share with the group?” he teased, gesturing to the empty booth. you two would take a break in the week to catch up and meet at your favorite diner. normally it was all jokes and gossip. you made it a rule not to talk to gojo about his friends, the messy group being a tense subject for him at times, a can of worms that explodes into angst and a soured mood. you felt off based to talk to him about megumi, since all you know about their relationship is that it’s rocky. but a part of you is dying for solace and gojo knows megumi better than anyone, so you decide to take a chance. 

“i’m worried my feelings for megumi are more than a crush.” gojo looks up at you quick, surprised by your forthright response. “oh, we’re getting straight into it,” he pushes his drink out of the way and folds his hands attentive on the table, grinning like a fool. you hadn’t talked to him about megumi since he asked for permission to give the man your number. “shut up, you asked- and it’s not like it’s love or anything! we’ve only been hooking up, y’know, here and there.” you ramble, filling the silence with excuses and filler, dancing around what you truly mean to say. gojo could see right through you. the truth was, you did love megumi. you wanted to be with megumi more than anything.

“what if this isn’t just a summer fling?” you voice goes soft, breaking at the smallest words, “what if i’ve gone and fallen for the guy who was supposed to be temporary?” when you were with him, you felt so good, so real, something you had never felt before. the sex was incredible, but looking past that, things were different now from before. the situationship you signed up for was different. small talk turned playful in the late nights. suddenly, you were texting each other good night and awaiting at the photos he’d send at work or smiling with yuuji and nobara while hanging out, letting you know he was busy, but couldn’t wait to see you that night. 

“are you sure you want to get into something serious with that certified hoe? you can never trust them when they leave for school,” your friend laughs at his joke and you smile small. gojo can be nothing more than an antagonist at times, an echo of the voices screaming at you to end things with megumi. maybe they are right, you think.  “but maybe you should just talk to him.”

AUGUST✧˚⋆

ᰔ on day eight of radio silence from you, megumi broke his double texting rule and asked you to hangout. he was driving himself crazy, no longer able to stand the silence without you. he stared at the empty chat, hovering over the unsend button when three bubbles appeared on the screen. 

i’m free around 7. i think we should talk

talk?, he thought, what would we be talking about? he panicked, you must’ve met someone else. you were leaving him even though there was nothing to truly leave. ever since megumi has met you, his entire world has turned upside down, unable to find his heartbeat steady around you. at first it was lust, he couldn’t help but crave your touch. but as he tries to ease himself of this foreign feeling, megumi realizes his mistake.

your relationship had thrived off the simplicity of no strings attached, free from lingering feelings and unrequited love. but somewhere along the way, megumi got lost in tangled limbs and soiled sheets. you had woven every fiber of your being into a tight leash around his neck, reeling him back in every time. he wanted you to think he was a changed man. he is a changed man! he smooths his hands down his pants and sent you a short response back. he was determined to see you later that evening ready to convince you the best place for you was in his lap, with him. forever. 

you eyed the clock with dread, each tick crawling unbearably slow as you wait for megumi to arrive. when he texted earlier, you felt your stomach drop. after unintentionally ghosting him, you didn’t expect him to text you. it had been over a week since you had left his message unread, hoping he would get the hint and all your blossoming feelings would fade away with the memories of him in the fall.

so in the hour prior to his arrival, you pep talked in the mirror, you made lists of pro and cons, and battled with yourself on how to tell megumi you couldn’t see him anymore. when he got there, you were going to be firm and assertive, and tell him that you simply were not interested anymore! you were going to be honest about you feelings and lay all cards on the table, despite your anxiety saying otherwise. it was the mature thing to do, you told yourself.

when you open the door, megumi is on you, swallowing you whole by taking his head into your hands and locking your lips with his. he pushes you out of the door frame and the entire time you’re welcoming him deeper into your mouth. he kissed you with a thousand words of love and hoped you got the message. you break the kiss, lightly panting against his mouth. his hands were still holding your head close to his own, keeping you close and in arms reach.

“it’s been eight days,” he says low. “where have you been?” you’re surprised. from his initial kiss at the door to this now sudden care and concern. you search his eyes for clues and turned up empty. he was as distant as ever with a hint of fear swirling in his dark eyes, leaving you shrinking into your skin. he walked forward and you stepped back, moving further into the hall. meguimi’s arm reaches to block your passage in the hall, cornering you towards your bedroom. “well? are you gonna answer?” your heart quickens, all of your preplanned speeches disappearing from your mind when he’s looming over you. is he angry?

you’ve reached your bedroom, the door ajar. “i- i didn’t know how to tell you. can we talk please?” you sputter out, nervous now that he’s got you trapped against the door frame. megumi’s brows are knit together and his nostrils flare in irritation, you’ve never seen him angry, much less upset. his eyes looked cloudy and you desperately yearned to reverse time. you’re stepping into the dark room and he follows. 

from the moment the door shuts, he’s tearing yours and his clothes off and pushing you onto the bed. he’s more eager than normal, his pants tight from his erection and hands shaking just slightly. he takes ahold of your chin and ushers you into a kiss, shimming out your pants. you slide a hand to his cheek and let his tongue meld with yours. “i don’t want to talk right now,” he says like a secret. he exhales and lets his mouth shift to smear open mouthed kisses against yours and down your neck. you lift your arms up to let him take off your shirt, catching you as you fall back to the bed. he pulls off his own and lowers himself to kiss down your chest. 

he suckles on your skin, love bites and bruises swelling in his wake, while his grip is tight on your waist, dragging your hips against his erection and guiding your legs to wrap around his body. he looks up at you with pleading eyes,“ just let me love you. one last time,” he breaths against your tummy, hugging your middle tight. you feel heat bloom in your gut, your walls clenching under his gaze. you look away, shy, and attempt to cover the blush dusting your cheeks. he smacks a wet kiss on your cheek before rolling onto the bed beside you. in that split second, the room spins and your heart beats with the warmth of his body besides you. your heart swells, did he just say love? 

the belt clanks as he undos it and pulls his pants down in one movement. he situates you on your knees around his head, blown pupils lost in the other as you look down at him. “are you ready?” he asks. you nod and he hums with acknowledgement. with that, you rise up to all fours and let his arms weave between your legs. he repositions himself to have his face aligned with your cunt and exhales with satisfaction at the sight. 

almost as if he’s seeing you for the first time, megumi’s heart pumps desire through his body. you knew exactly how to get him riled up more than anyone else and you’ve barely even touched him. “it’s been so long since i’ve tasted this pussy,” he groans, drinking in the view of you, legs wide and trembling at the strain of the position he has you in. “i missed you.” 

his eyes float back to your weeping cunt in front of him. he feels your body tremble with anticipation, his breath fawning over your skin and stare burning into you. he moves his index finger around your hole, inspecting it, pulling your sticky lips apart and licking them clean and you gasp.. you lower yourself down to elbows and let a glob of spit fall onto his cock, stroking him as he pulls your pussy apart by the threads. “fuck, that feels good,” he sputters, thrusting up as you take him into your mouth. you gag on him, tears collecting in your eyes, “did you miss me too?” he teases, his voice low and sets the hairs on your body on edge. the blood is rushing to your head and megumi’s teasing leaves you hot and dizzy. matching sloppy circles with your slurping of his cock, megumi slots his fingers in your hole and focuses on your clit throbbing and pulsating in his mouth. 

“mm.. you did. look at this mess,” your moans vibrate around his shaft when he pushes two fingers inside you shallowly. he lets them tease you and focuses on the erect bundles of nerves at the top of your pussy. he peels the hood of your clit back and lets himself suck on you further, lets his head get crushed between your locked legs no longer slack in his grasp. his fingers are deep, further in you than before, dragging sweet pressure along your walls. the pleasure he’s giving you making you grind along his face. he ruthlessly slams his hips up into your open jaw, balls hitting your chin as your spit pools pathetically out of your mouth from the overstimulation of everything. his dick slips out of your mouth while you choke out for air, your throat stretched from his rough thrusts. you rest your head on his thigh and watch his cock bob while he buries his face between your legs.

your resistance wearing thin, your mind spins with each stroke along your walls. “megumi, i’m gonna cum!” he’s coaxing you open, letting your slick drip down his fingers, squelching and filth fills the room. you unfurl in his hands into a wet mess, and megumi eat you like a man starved. you can feel your orgasm hurling towards you when he sucks your clit back into his mouth, letting your mind go numb with pleasure. megumi groans when you spill into his mouth, he watches you cream around his fingers before licking them clean. 

cleaning you of your sugar sweet essence, spread thick and shiny on his lips and chin, he throws you forward to face the foot of the bed. you feel his bare chest slide along your back, allowing one hand to trace the curves and dents of your body. he feels up every inch of your exposed skin before laying his palm flat on your shoulder, shoving you flat against the mattress. “tell me you want me,” you can’t breathe and his fingers walk up your arm meeting in the crevices of your knuckles.”tell me you need it, you need me to make you feel this good.”  your ass is up, pussy fluttering in response to his airy voice, hot and slow against the shell of your ear.

 “ y/n, tell me you need me.” 

he rocks his hips against your ass, pushing his cock down to slide between your folds and coat himself. he fucks your wet thighs, groaning selfishly while you vibrate for him. you’re so sensitive and his tip catches your clit with every stroke. you're wrapped up in his scent, his sweat, every sensation and brush of his body on yours more than you can handle. all of his actions are so drawn out and agonizing, his very touch leaving you raw, your senses overloaded. interlocking his hand over yours, he laces his fingers so tight it hurts. 

“please, hurry, i-” he slides himself inside of you without warning, pushing past the resistance of your walls and letting your initial pain manifest in tight squeezes instead. “oh my god, it feels so good,” you gasp out, moans cascading from your lips while you adjust to his length he hisses and pulls your ass apart to watch the rest of him get enveloped in your silken pussy. you twitch and reflexively rut back against him, chasing your orgasm, and using him for pleasure. “i need you, megumi. please, don’t tease anymore,” you whine and let your ass bounce back against him once more. he grins wicked and his eyes rolls at the needy cling of your heat around him. 

both hands grab at your waist, pinching it tight as he fucks you rough, dragging your body along his shaft without forgiveness. he works his hands in your hair, pulling at the roots to yank you upright, your limp body a whimpering wreck, like putty in his hands. with you against his chest, he angles himself just right to continue thrusting into your sopping pussy. his hand holds your hips down and your back bows when the other forcefully cups over your mouth, muffling your moans. megumi has never been this rough with you, more often than not, gentle and serving, not handling you without a care. your thoughts are screaming his name and your body is on fire under his touch. with every thrust, he finds heaven between your soft thighs. 

his hips fumble and are sloppy as he ruts into you, “i’m gonna cum. oh fuck- cum with me.” messy fingers meet your clit as megumi rushes to pull another orgasm out from you. you’re seeing white when megumi spills his cum inside of you, warm and thick, your pussy milking him. panting, the two of you fall to the bed in a tangle of limbs, exasperated and smiling. you whine when he pulls his half hard cock of out you, your pussy sensitive and sore when you feel his cum push out of you with every achy throb. 

stillness settles in the room, but the awkward silence is suffocating. after sex, you’d have to pry megumi off of you, his still sweaty body stuck to yours while he peppers you with kisses and adoration. he treated you like the most precious woman in the world and laying beside you is another man. you turned your head to look at him. his stare was focused on the ceiling, unmoving, his body looked tense. your let your hand skate to his side, where you nestled your fingers within his. your fingers are soft and comforting, all of his nerves soothing at the slightest touch. 

“is everything alright?” you ask with concern and megumi wants to cry for the first time in a long time. was he ready to lose you already, he asked himself. he mourned the memories you hadn’t created together in the ceiling fan whirs. he can’t speak, all his words on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t seem to muster the strength to tell you about his feelings. you sigh and release his hand, tucking yours together in your lap. 

“i wanted to talk to you about us. summer is coming to an end and i’m afraid i can’t keep doing this. i think it’d be best, for the both of us. things can just go back to normal,” his ears are ringing, the blood drumming so loud it’s drowning out your voice. megumi feels like he’s sinking in the ocean, watching your body float above him and leaving him to drown in murky waters. “you’ll go back to college and i’ll stay her. i’m sure you have a bunch of.. people waiting for you,” you force a smile and he sees insecurity crack in it. of course it’s about his (erm) history with women. he feels the shame and pain of every woman he had left broken, making them feel alone. to make matters worse, you’re so calm and collected, he feels like he doesn’t even deserve your kind rejection. he wasn’t ready to lose you. not yet. 

“megumi, are you listening to me?” you ask. when his face turns to meet yours devastation written all over it, his eyes look misty like he was on the verge of crying. “megumi! what’s wrong?” 

“so that’s it? you’re done with me? i don’t want things to go back to normal. i love you! i love you and- and you’re just afraid! after all everything we’ve been through, our time meant something to me. i thought we had something. not just a summer fling.” his words knock the air from your lungs– love?! of all the things you had prepared for, having your feelings be reciprocated was last on the list. you tingled with joy, the sensation making you high. 

“i haven’t been with anyone else. it’s only been you, since we met. i don’t want to be with anyone else” megumi rolls onto his side to stare at you, hoping his words reached you, and that you’d receive them with open arms and change your mind. your hand knots itself in his hair when you kiss him, fast and overly excited. he smiles against your lips and deepens the kiss.

“i love you too.”

- a few months later

“baby, can you believe it’s december 5th already? i’ll be home in two more days.” megumi pulls his scarf up to cover his mouth, cold air puffing from his mouth. he was on his way home from class when he called you, relieved from finishing his last exam day and hearing your voice. his smile is hidden from the camera, but you see it anyways  

“i can’t believe the semester is over already. i can’t wait to see you,” you giggle while tying the slipnot of your current crochet project, it’s a hobby you’ve recently picked up, gifting out mittens and hats to all your friends when the temperatures dropped. 

“i’m ready to be home with you.” he says. things with megumi have been more than expected. since he’s left for school, you talk daily, receiving the same adorable photos, most of the time of him studying or out on campus. you share pictures of you on the quad with yuuji and voice memos telling him how you miss him. he’s come back twice for long weekends, surprising you after your last friday class, and taking you for lost time. things couldn’t be any better. 

the two of you chat all the way to his dorm, making plans for his return, and reminding him not to forget gojo’s birthday gift when he leaves. 

“i love you megumi! i’ll see you soon”

[yawarakaizai]

wearing beast!dazai’s big black trench coat with only undies underneath ໒꒰ྀི ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ྀི১ !! swinging legs while sitting on his lap and messing with his paperwork until he gets mad and punishes u ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

m rlly glad u’r opening nsfw reqs luv (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ hope have fun writing angel！

ⵌ NOT A SECOND THOUGHT, OH, ROMEO

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT Beast!Dazai (BSD) CONTENTS 17+ CONTENT NSFW, dub-con, usage of 'daddy', fem pet names, dry humping, grinding, bratty impatient reader, implied sugar daddy dazai, dirty talk, degradation, implied unsafe bindings (stay safe during bondage guys!), no lube/dry penetration, maso/sadi, jealous dazai, slight edging, orgasm denial,mean dazai but slightly sweet dazai during aftercare NOTE It's not your fault. It's not your fault there's nothing better to do. It's not your fault daddy promised to be in bed with you soon. You needed him, and he was too busy with the work he promised to have finished earlier! You wouldn't let him get away with this. But - who really has the upper-hand here? COMPANY Lolita

A/N aahh back f rom scho ol trip ;///; first nsfw fic !! h ope its okay (☍﹏⁰) i have more reqs in i nbox !!! i hope you enjoy th is fic !!!!

This was a dangerous game to play.

How you were going to go about this was a gamble, one that could either go in your favour - or horribly otherwise.

Danger thrilled you. And perhaps maybe that is why you paraded right into Dazai's office wearing nothing but his black trench coat.

" Oh? "

His pen was placed on the desk gently. Gaze eyeing you up and down with an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. " What are you up to, bella? "

You stood there at the entrance with cockiness written all over your face. He knew what you were up to, he knew all too well what you wanted and he decided to play cruel.

Displaying yourself to him in such a teasing manner was the dangerous game. Your bitchiness that will follow will be more reason for him to punish you. You wore your favourite black-lace panties that hung low on your hips, your pretty pussy nearly peeking from the fabric as it hung loose. Dazai's coat was much too big for you, which described why the sleeves covered your hands entirely and you left the jacket unzipped purposefully, the coat just barely covering your nipples, enough to tease - but not enough to satisfy.

" I'm bored. " You hummed, as innocent as an angel, making your way over to his desk.

You twirled his signature red scarf around your hands, pulling the coats sleeves up your forearms to reveal your fingers, adorned with the expensive finger he had bought you.

" I told you I was almost done, did I not? " Dazai stifled a small laugh, sucking in a nervous breath. He wore a white blouse and some black jeans while working in his second office. There had been an incident he needed to look over and the last thing he needed was a distraction.

Dazai really did love you, but it seemed that no amount of training was able to keep a brat like you in one place.

" You're taking too long! " You pouted, hands slamming on his desk as you bent over just slightly, the coat yielding and allowing him to peek at your perked nipples. " My butt hurts waiting for you in our room, so..! "

Standing back up straight, you swayed your hips around the table and - pap! Sat right on his lap, sliding in between his legs very soon after with your back pressed to his chest. " ..This is much more comfortable. "

You emphasise so by wiggling your hips left and right before his hands clamped down on the sides of your hips to stop your ass from digging further against his crotch.

" Princess. " His shaky breath earned a grin from you. " Now's really not the time, okay? I'm almost done, I promise. " He tried to pick up his pen but you kicked your legs, your body moving with the force of so, " But daddy! Please! " You cried out. " At least let me sit down until you're finished! "

Giving in, it was probably for the best knowing you'll bother him either way. " Then I expect you to not move. " Rubbing your hips as his iron grip relented, " Am I clear? "

Of course you weren't going to behave. You deserve to act out every now and then, especially when mean Dazai left you waiting for so long!

" Mhm! " Your head idly rocked with a childish tune playing in your head, leaning back slightly to allow Dazai some movement. He picked his pen back up and began to write while you tried to focus on the fast, cursive writing but just couldn't.

The many words had your brain jumbled and you kept on yawning before daddy even had a chance to tend to you after promising he would.

" Daddy, this is boring. " You complained only to be given a small 'tch, tch' as a response.

Even you talking was enough to distract him. It made you upset, and when you were upset, consequences weren't something you worried or even thought about.

You tried singing, he'd pinch your thigh. You tried humming, he'd pinch your thigh. You repositioned slightly to get more comfortable, he'd pinch your thigh.

It was torture to be kept here waiting especially after you spent so long not only anticipating him meeting you tonight but also convincing Chuuya why you needed Dazai's trench coat and scarf.

You reached over to pick a pen from the cupholder just almost out of your reach and leaned back after. Dazai must've thought you wanted to keep your hands busy since you began to twirl the pen in your fingers. But oh, no.

Because while he was busy on yet another useless paragraph, you scribbled a small little heart in the corner of the page. He didn't seem to like that.

" Princess. " He warned, but you only giggled in the face of his growing anger. " Whaaaat? I'm not doing anything bad! " You threw your head back and looked up, Dazai's head turned down to look at your stupid little smirk. He wasn't impressed, but you both knew deep down he was enjoying this. If that hard thing pressing in between your ass wasn't any indication.

" You can keep acting like a bitch as much as you want, but you know how this is going to end. " He left it at that, knowing you well enough to expect you to continue until he has you flipped over, choking back your words.

" Mm-mm, " You shook your head, scribbling more love-hearts into corner of the page, small little doodles, " I'm only being nice. Daddy's being unfair. " Your legs kicked back and forth as you drew away on the page as though it were your sketchpad.

With Dazai's patience running low, he put his pen away to gather his sheets to read over, his head peering over your shoulder at his notes. Organising information was hard. It was even harder when he had his princess humping back into his half-erect cock.

You could swear that he was reading slow on purpose just to piss you off. You needed his attention now. In a bold move, the next words spoken would end up changing a night that could've ended on a much nicer note.

" Would've just gone to Chuuya if I knew you were gonna be this mean. "

You didn't even have enough time to gasp before your head was pushed down onto the desk, your body bent suddenly and it ached with the unprepared stretch. Your whine came late, but the palm shoving your cheek down made your words muffle until he pulled back , tearing the red scarf from around your neck and bringing it behind you where your vision couldn't see. You didn't dare move from the new position he put you into.

" Ow, ow, daddy! " Your overreactions didn't earn you any pity as he bound your wrists together behind your back securely. It was a little too tight, but that's just how you liked it.

" Can't wait at all, can you? " He huffed, your head still resting on the table, on top of a few of his beloved documents that he spent so long researching for and writing.

" My fault for spoiling you so much, isn't it princess? Lettin' you run the show how you like it. " Unzipping his fly with haste, he let his cock spring free while his other hand pulled the trench coat belonging to him that you were wearing over your bottom, pulling your panties down and letting them pool down at your feet. " Baby got too greedy, now she's gonna be reminded just what she is. "

" But you-! " Your mouth shot open in a gargled cry as he shoved his rock hard dick into your unprepared hole. You were barely wet enough for it to slide in and out comfortably. There was only so much your pussy could give when you had to go through about an hour of being denied. " Daddy! Hurts! Hurts! " You wailed, your legs kicking back and knees buckling with the horribly uncomfortable intrusion. Daddy's cock was thick and long enough for you to feel it push against that certain organ deep around your plush walls. You felt a stabbing pain in your lower abdomen that surged through your body and you thought that maybe this had not been worth it after all.

Hooking a hand under your stomach to keep you from completely falling to the floor, Dazai held your hips and began to thrust as he pleased, picking up pace into something deep but slow.

He would have happily slammed fast if he wanted to, but you only now were beginning to provide him with some self-made lubrication. " Fuck, baby. " He groaned, watching how your cute pussy would stretch around his cock as he'd slam in and how it'd return to it's small plumpness when he'd pull out to the tip only.

It was such an addicting sight, he could silence out your little begs and apologies in favour of watching your pussy instead.

" Dah-ddy! " You squealed, trying to gain his attention, to alert him of the pain.

" Hurts, it hurts, really, for re-al! " Your voice cracked with a hard thrust that made the desk inch forward.

" If that were the case, you wouldn't be getting so wet over this, would you? "

Dazai acknowledged the pain you were allegedly feeling but made no effort in helping soothe.

" Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished. Those are the rules. " Dazai was so, so mean. Your tears did not sway him to go easy. " No bitch of mine is bringing up Chuuya while she grinds down on my dick like a cock-hungry whore. "

" I'm sorry that I said it! " You tried to apologise but knew that ultimately, daddy's word was final.

You had no option but to stay still and take daddy's idea of a fit punishment for today.

At this point, your body had given in to the abuse your pussy was given and finally, that pain evolved into something more hot and arousing as precipitation pooled between your legs.

" Then you've learned for next time, hm? "

Dazai was grateful feeling himself slip in and out easier. His thrusts became more brutal and he seemed to care more about his table that kept moving in sync with his thrusts than you.

You were being used as a cocksleeve.

" Aah- aa-a-aah.. " Your body bounced and rubbed against the polished wood all while you tried to form coherent thoughts.

You thought that maybe, just maybe, you preferred this over daddy's usual spanking.

" G'nna..! Cum! Daddy, think I'm gonna! " You cried out, drool wetting the sheets.

" Hold it. " The command alone made your body seize up with fear. " No! " You choked on a mixture of a sob and a moan. " I'm gonna die, daddy! I'm gonna die, please, please! "

He relished in the way your feet raised to pull his thighs in closer into you, begging him to cum inside you and to give you the early orgasm you wanted so bad.

" Just be a good girl. Just this fuckin' once. Can ya do that? "

You really did sob this time.

Unsure how long you could hold back your orgasm, just before you were pushed over the edge - Dazai pulled out entirely and you shrieked.

Rubbing his cock on your soft ass, you felt thick, hot ropes of his seed squirt lines over your plump behind, wiping away any excess on your inner thigh, just about touching your neglected pussy.

" Noo.. no.. " Your voice was hoarse from shouting, small body hiccuping little sobs at the orgasm stolen from you.

" I said bad girls get punished. " Dazai replied coldly, taking a seat back into his chair after undoing the knot keeping your wrists tied.

At first, you couldn't move, and he watched his cum trickle down your thighs and onto the floor. You stayed crying quietly for a while on the desk until you pulled yourself together - enough to stand up (albeit shakily) to take the two steps forward to be held in Dazai's arms.

" Daddy, daddy, sorry, 'm sorry, I am, I am! "

You held onto his shirt with shaking fists, shivering like you were left out wet in the cold.

" Shh, shh, I know you are. I know you are, princess. "

Cheeks and nose flushed red from tears, his hand rubbed up and down your thigh, squeezing the flesh when he could.

" You can be a good girl when you want to. "

" Y-eah. " You cleared your sore throat, breath hitching every now and then with a hard inhale.

" Daddy had to be mean today, you know why, don't you, my brave girl? " Dazai cooed to you, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear so he could get a better view of your tear-streaked face.

" I was bad today, never again, not gonna be bad again. "

" That's my good girl. "

You say it and promise it. You swear it up and down and daddy will give you what you want soon after.

And even then, it'll barely be another two weeks before your next punishment.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[nomazee]

pry your way in

sebastian (sdv) x gn reader

word count: 4.7k (oh my god)

content: mutual pining, ROMANTIC TENSION, aggressive pining on the reader’s part, do they kiss or do they not, social anxiety (can u TELL), embarrassing situations, comedy (maybe) (hopefully) (maybe you’ll get a little giggle out of this and swing your feet around), so much build up, the slowest burn you could possibly get in under 5k words

notes: oh HEY guys so i went crazy again and i don’t think i’ve ever written so much in one sitting. this is insane. look at what this game has done to me. 

part 1 part 2 (you are here) part 3

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All you need to do is drop off these stupid eggs in Gus’s fridge. That’s it. In and out and then you can go home and pretend that you did not stare at Sebastian for almost an entire straight minute in the doorway of the saloon. 

He’s too busy playing pool, you think, and from the brief (many) glances you’ve taken at them, it looks like he’s pretty close to beating Sam. Your heart goes out to the blonde. One day, for sure, he’ll be able to get more than three balls in an entire game against Sebastian. 

The fridge door is open now. No one notices you except for Emily, who gives you a kind nod and a smile. You don’t know if you should be upset by the fact that no one really talks to you whenever you go to the saloon unless you talk first, or if you should be incredibly relieved. It’s leaning to the latter, because you don’t think you could handle being looked at right now especially by Sebastian because good god the jellyfish thing was so embarrassing and you really hope he’s forgotten about it because oh my god you actually almost puked all over his shoes and what is wrong with you and—

“Farmer!” Oh god. It’s a woman’s voice. It’s Abigail, and despite the fuzz in your mind you can tell by the timbre of her voice and the fact that the shout came from over by the pool table. You managed to get two eggs in the container in the fridge before being ousted. Good job. You hope Gus’ extreme ginormous 24-egg omelet is worth all of this. 

If you tried really hard, you could have played it off as if you didn't hear her at all. But then she’s walking over to you and you hear her footsteps and they’re light, friendly. Unfortunately, that does nothing to stop you from freezing up and feeling every individual cell in your body go taut.

Maybe she’s going to kill you, or something, because maybe you did actually puke all over Sebastian’s sneakers nights before this and your mind just blocked it out. Oh god. Well, this town was nice while it lasted. You hope they’ll bury you in a nice spot out of courtesy. 

Turning to face Abigail, you manage to give her a shaky sort of grin and wave. “Oh. Hey. I didn't know you were here.” You are such a liar. And a bad one, probably. 

“Yeah! Me and Sam and Sebastian.” You nod at that. A pause, and then, “Hey, are you busy tonight? We were wondering if you wanted to join us. We’re playing pool, but— um, it’s mainly just those two playing. They’ve got a rivalry going on.” 

She looks back at them and watches, amused, and you do the same for a moment. Sam is in the middle of making some big joke-y scene, throwing his head back and groaning and swatting at Sebastian while the other man just barely ducks away from his attacks. They’re laughing, and elbowing each other and you look away before either of them notice that you’re watching with the intensity of a wild deer. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Thank you. I don’t want to come if not everyone wants me to join.” 

“Everyone does,” Abigail tells you, and she’s really telling you. With purpose. There is something in her eyes. Something imploring and meaningful and her lips are quirking up in some pretty and teasing smile, and you’re wondering what’s so different about the way Pelican Town people are raised to make them carry so much weight in their eyes. So much weight that it makes you dizzy. And nauseous. And now maybe you’ll puke on Abigail’s shoes, instead.

“Okay.” It comes out as a whisper from your shaky mouth. She only smiles brighter at you. You register that you’re still behind Gus’s counter and there are drinks being shaken and poured just steps behind you. “Okay, I’ll be over in a second.” 

Great, she tells you, and then she’s turning around and walking away with a little jump and you might throw up because why did you agree to this? You did not plan on talking to people this evening. Not at all. And you’re wishing so hard that you had just dropped these eggs off in the morning. This is the type of stuff that happens when you don't just drop eggs off in the morning. Just your luck. 

You shake your head, as if maybe it’ll rattle your senses into being ready to spectate a pool game and talk with people for at least half an hour. And Sebastian. You don’t think you could handle the intensity of just sitting next to him. You might throw up again. All over the pool cues and the fuzzy cloth of the pool table. And maybe Sam’s shoes. Everyone’s shoes are getting thrown up on this week. 

Eventually, you make the walk out from the counter and consider just leaving through the door and telling Abigail later on that you just felt sick and needed to go home. It wouldn’t be a lie. You are a person of half-truths, most definitely. 

But you don’t, because you like Abigail and you want her to like you too. By the look of everything she’s done for you, you’re fairly certain that she does like you, or at least more-than-tolerates you, and you would like to keep it that way instead of burning down all of your Stardew Valley relationships in a slow, painful fire. (And okay, yes, maybe it’s a benefit that she’s friends with Sebastian. So what.) 

You blink. You’re in front of the three of them. Abigail and Sam are smiling at you and Sebastian is giving you a look. What is it with the people in this valley and their looks?! You have yet to be able to decode any of them. This is rough. So rough. You’re falling back into the uncomfortable feeling of otherness. Of just-barely-not-fitting. Like squeezing between a desk and a wall. Every other day you are walking through just fine, and the other days you are squeezing between this town and the people and everything you have yet to learn. 

You might puke. You’re not making it out of this saloon alive. 

“Hey, farmer!” Sam greets you, and your chest is struck with endearment over how everyone calls you farmer. Maybe it’s just because they forgot your name, but you can’t seem to mind it at all. “Are you joining us?” 

“Oh, just for a bit,” you tell him. You can’t help the smile that takes over your face, warmed and sheepish. “And then I should go. But I’m a big fan of watching you guys argue over pool. Really, it’s very captivating.” 

Abigail chortles, taking pleasure in the playful sarcasm you’ve adapted to. When Sam and Sebastian both follow suit in their own little laughs, your defensive habits slip away the slightest bit. And you can’t seem to find it in you to hold onto them. 

“Less of an argument and more of a…” Sebastian pauses with a teasing glance at his friend. Your heart stops for no reason other than you being stupid and in love, and it only chokes you up when he directs his stupid stupid pretty eyes right at you. “More of Sam being a sore loser. It’s an easy win on my part, really.” 

A snicker escapes you, undignified in how easily you let it out and how it threatens to reverberate against the walls of the game room. You’re holding onto yourself for dear life, trying to ground yourself in some attempt to maybe keep some of your dignity before it’s worn away through the course of the evening. 

But Sebastian has this prideful simper on his face and it’s like he’s happy to make you laugh. Maybe it’s the loving delusions running through your head. But you let yourself dream, just for a minute. 

Stupid boy. The urge to kiss him is slowly hurtling its way through your entire system, and it’s starting with your respiratory tract judging by the way you can’t seem to catch a breath. Stupid. Boy. 

“You can sit down, you know,” and he nods his head to the pair of chairs behind him. “Stay a while.” His eyes are filled with a stupid teasing glimmer and you might pull him aside just to kiss that expression right off his face. 

You won’t. Obviously. Because look at what happened last time you let your inhibitions run free. (Absolutely. Nothing.) 

Maybe I will, you want to say, stay a while. Maybe I’ll stay forever. 

You take a seat, and Sebastian is still leaning against the table with his pool cue in hand. He is looking at you, hesitant, with his mouth slightly open like he wants to say something. Before he can, Abigail interrupts. 

“Wait, let me take over for you!” She says, rushing forward to steal the cue from him. “I want to play! You guys, like, totally monopolize the table every time we’re here.” Abigail’s eyes flit to Sebastian, then to you, and she continues, “Next time, let’s just play the two of us. You and me, farmer.” 

There’s another big, stupid smile stretching your face taut and you hope none of them notice your cracked, drying lips. They’re peeling open from how much you’re grinning tonight and how much you’re not moisturizing them. “Of course.” 

Sebastian is left with nothing in his hands once Abigail turns to aim her cue and hit the white ball (poorly) in an attempt to keep up Sebastian’s winning streak. With her and Sam occupied, you are left with the black haired man standing aimless in front of you. Again. And his eyes are trailing you, with purpose and a goal to speak. Again. 

You throw his words back at him with, “Well, sit down. Stay a while.” And he does. And your stupid mind is wondering if maybe him following you so easily means something. Stupid stupid. 

“How’s, um. Your stomach,” he asks, stunted pauses littering his voice as he tries his best to look at you. You don’t know what he’s talking about, and it must show on your face because he’s clarifying, “From the ceremony last week. I haven't seen you since then so I figured you must’ve been sick.” 

Sebastian is prying. Not in his words, but in the way he’s looking at you. Really, really looking, and this feels like a repeat of last week and you are reliving a million and one things that you would rather never relive again. 

Your palms are suddenly cold and you’re avoiding his gaze, body stiff with guilt. You’d been avoiding him for a week and you honestly hadn’t even noticed. It was like a subconscious response to humiliating yourself in front of the pretty boy that you’ve liked for weeks now. You hope he doesn’t blame you for that, somehow. 

“Right. Um, I was fine. I’m fine now, I mean. I turned out fine. Sorry for all of that,” your feet are shuffling against the ground and you drag patterns into your pants to comfort yourself. “It was kind of embarrassing. To have you walk me home and then suddenly get sick. I really am sorry for that.” 

“Don’t even worry about it.” There’s a sureness in his voice. When you find the courage in your lungs to turn and look at him, you’re met with a furrowed brow and steady eyes. It’s overwhelming you with ten different feelings, many of which are yelling at you to KISS HIS STUPID FACE. “Seriously. It wasn’t embarrassing, either. Things happen. I’m just glad you’re okay, now.” 

Sebastian ends it with another one of his chest-aching, brain-melting, palm-sweating smiles and he’s doing that stupid thing with the corners of his mouth. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and that’s what frustrates you the most. Maybe you should tell him, but he would take it the wrong way and stop doing it and you wouldn’t survive without seeing that stupid smile. As much as it makes you want to tear your hair out if you look at it for too long. 

You give him a firm nod. The rest of the night is easy conversation. You have one drink. Really, you make sure of it, because you haven’t gotten intoxicated in months and you really don’t want to see what drunk-you does in Stardew Valley in front of the sweet townspeople and the stupid pretty man in front of you. Said stupid-pretty-man follows suit, only having a pale ale and indulging in shirley temples for the rest of the night. (You punch yourself for finding it endearing that he likes such a sweet drink. Urgh.) 

It feels like a parallel universe of the Moonlight Jellies celebration of last week. One where you are a much less awkward person (but, really, there’s just barely a difference between now and before), and where you offer to walk him home instead of the other way around. Your stupid infatuated heart skips a stupid beat when you ask him if you can walk him back, but it quells when he gives you an easy smile and agrees. You pointedly ignore the voice in your head telling you that he sounds almost enthusiastic.

Sam and Abigail wish you goodnight, and they’re both beaming at you in a silly way that makes you follow suit. Giggles bubble in your chest and you don’t even know why. You think they must just have those kinds of personalities, and you really couldn't be more happy to seep into it. 

You don’t hold Sebastian’s hand on the way back. Not at all. In fact, you don’t even feel the urge to. You totally, totally don’t look at his hand swaying between you and fight the instinct to grab it and trace your fingers across his palm lines and the dips of his knuckles and all the scars he’s collected in his youth. You. Do not. Feel that way at all. 

It’s easy conversation, yet again. It’s almost impressive how, even with how easily you seem to do the most mortifying, awkward things in front of Sebastian, you still slip into moments with him where you can talk like you’ve known each other forever. God. Something about this town. You can’t tell if you want to catch the next operable bus out of here or stay here forever. You feel that way often, actually. 

Before you know it, you’ve cut through the city and ended up in the mountains and in front of his house. The lights are off. It must be super late, then, if everyone’s dead asleep like that. 

Crickets chirp and buzz in the air. You and Sebastian stop walking in the middle of the large dirt patch that takes up his front yard. Now, you’re looking at each other, and he’s giving you his awkward stupid gorgeous downward grin. You hope that you’re giving him something at least half as pretty, with the way you feel your lips stretch and crack again. You really need to get lip balm from Pierre’s. 

“It’s so late,” you mutter, because you don’t know what else to say and your heart is melting and slipping right out of your chest and onto the soil. “I guess I should go home.” 

You hope—cross-your-fingers-say-a-prayer type of hope—that he hears the hesitancy in your voice. That he realizes you don’t want to leave. That he sees the fondness in your eyes and how you’re trying to soften every defense mechanism you’ve ever learned in order to pry into him, now. And you hope. Cross your fingers and say a prayer. That he wants that, too. 

He hums a thoughtful, quiet sort of hum. Sebastian doesn’t move towards the door, or bid you a goodnight, or nod along and tell you he’ll see you another day. He waits. He is looking at you and prying you open and trying to gauge your reaction. To what, you don’t know, but there’s a static feeling in your head that tells you to wait and find out. 

“Right,” he says finally. His voice and his mouth curl carefully around the word, and it’s there again—the pauses, the hesitancy. You see your habits in him and you are aching with the need to find out what he means. What this all means. And you’re feeling stupid, and so you wait, too. 

“I think I feel bad leaving you to walk home,” Sebastian tells you. He’s speaking slowly, but not in a degrading way. It feels more like he wants the words to float to you and sink into the pores of your skin. And they do. They do, and it’s embarrassing, because now you’re sweating and hoping (again) that it doesn’t show on your face or your hands or the twisting of your fingers. “This is really far from the farm, you know.” 

“I think I would know,” you respond, teasing and lighthearted and acting like there isn’t a saturated yearning weighing down your body right now. “I can manage. I’ve been in the mines, you know. Seen all the monsters down there and everything.” 

He lets out a stupid breathy laugh and shakes his head. You hate how he acts so nonchalant, like it’s not obvious that you’re fighting the instinct to pick him up and shake him around like a bobblehead until his skull pops right off his neck. “Right, because there’s totally monsters down there.” 

“There are! You can come with me one day. I’ll prove it to you.” And it’s risky, to entertain that kind of thing, the concept of you two spending time together alone, where no one can see. Sebastian takes that as a challenge, apparently, because the diffident tilt of his lips turns smug and he’s saying,

“Then maybe you’ll sleep over one day.” 

Stttttupid boy. He’s stupid. The stupidest man you’ve ever met because now you’re really, really holding onto every last shred of your self-control. The thought of you in his house, with you both sleeping in the same twenty-foot-radius of space is making you heat up more than the valley’s summer sun. A frog croaks in a nearby bush. Nausea pools in your intestines. 

And you’re a terrible person, really, because even though you’re sweating and lightheaded from the heat you’re entertaining the thought of you both sleeping in the same bed. And it’s ridiculous. Really. You’re both adults who are perfectly capable of sleeping in the same bed without it meaning anything. Any particle of logic that enters your brain is vaporized by the heat of it. Your stomach is twisting and you swallow around the lump in your throat. 

He’s watching you. Still watching. Waiting for something to happen. The look he’s giving you is bordering on defensive, as if he’s anticipating a rejection. Stupid man. By now, he should realize you’re not prone to giving him rejections, of all people. 

“Maybe I will.” By some grace of whatever higher power is listening, you choke out the last puddles of your strength into a hopefully-confident tone of voice and the last words you have left in you for the night. It’s not a rejection. You hope he understands that. And he does. Oh, he has to understand what you mean by now, because he’s biting his lips and still. Looking at you. And waiting. All he does is wait. And you glance down and see his hands twitching at his sides. And you are going to do something. Something.

Oh, god. You’re thinking, Oh, okay, this is what this is, and he’s doing his stupid smile and the corners of his lips tuck in and you’re staring at them again. Really, really staring at them. You hope he notices. Your fingers are twitching now, too, almost aching with the need to hold something—to hold him and his twitching hands and spin them around in yours like a fingertrap. You want to get stuck and woven together, just for a moment. An aching, hurting, burning, devastating moment. 

It’s all you want. It’s all you’ve wanted for weeks now. And there’s a heat in your chest and your fingers and your head. Fingers twitching, eyes unblinking, and hands sweating; you wait. Wait for him to come closer. For him to do. Something. Soon. 

It’s an impossible task for you. You are not one for initiative. Never have been, not since you left your stupid office job and took up your place on this stupid farm and fell in love with this stupid man. Initiative is a daunting, horrifying, overwhelming concept, and all of your ambition has been drained from you ever since you planted your first parsnip in the ground. 

But but but. And this is how it always goes with you and Sebastian. But but but. There’s something about tonight. Something about tonight and the last week and the week before and the seasons before this that have carved this open wound into the middle of your diaphragm. Without even knowing it, Sebastian has clawed his way between your lungs and made an uneasy home in your heart. It’s disgusting, and maybe you’ll cough up all this adoration right on the doormat of his family’s house. 

How long has it been? How long have you both been standing here like idiots and waiting and breathing and staring? How long? You are asking yourself too many stupid questions. Initiative. You think of it again—and now your hands are on Sebastian’s shoulders and you don’t have half the mind to wonder when you stepped closer. 

You are not slow in your movements. Not at all. You are urgent and desperate and aching, but you give just enough time for him to pull away. In the back of your head, you wish that he’ll pull back and leave you empty and cold. But there is a warmth seeping through the cloth of his hoodie and tonight, you are stupid. 

You’re staring for just a moment before you close your eyes and surge forward slow enough for him to stop you, but fast enough that he won’t get the chance to look at your embarrassing, longing, yearning face before you kiss him. 

Because that’s it. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, with your hands gripping his shoulders with bruising strength, and with your feet planted into the ground to stop yourself from either floating or flinging yourself into the lake. You’re kissing him. And he’s not pulling away. And his hands reach to touch your elbows gently. For a moment, you think he’ll shove you down and run away, but his fingers are tapping along your arms, leaving a buzz in your bones and your head and your heart. 

You. Are kissing him. You are. You fucking. Did it. Joy floods your buzzing body and you hope he can’t hear how loud your skull is vibrating, how intensely your chest is rattling. Or how heavy your hands have become on his shoulders and how much you’re pushing back against him to get further, to pull him into you and you into him and pour in everything you’ve ever felt straight to his lungs. You’re kissing him. 

And he’s warm. So warm. Unexpectedly so, and you feel your entire body heat up in innocent adoration and you want his fingers to curl around your forearms and ground you. His hands shift, and for a minute you think he might pull away, but now he’s dragging his fingers in small paths up your arm, above your elbow and brushing your shoulders. Ggggggggod. God. You’re gonna scream into his mouth and slap him. Stupid man. 

In reality it lasts for a second, but the rush of feelings and thoughts and screams and cries that overwhelms your body makes it feel like it’s an hour. (At least ten minutes, maybe.) You wonder how he feels. You wonder if he’s trying to pour everything into you through this, too; or if maybe, he’s a normal fucking human being who is just kissing you to kiss you without all the grandeur and flourish and waxing poetic. Unbothered, you realize you won’t mind regardless of which it is. 

Your eyes are closed, and you hope his still are, too, because if he opens them and sees you you might throw up all over him. For the fortieth time this week. 

“Sebas— oh!” 

And. There’s a voice and a distressed exclamation. It’s Robin. Holy shit. It is his mother. 

The man you just spent an hour kissing (read: five seconds max) takes a moment to realize what just happened. You, on the other hand, have a ridiculous supercomputer in your head and you have long since figured out what just happened. You cannot believe this. This is embarrassing. A trip back to Zuzu City is well deserved now. 

“I’m— so sorry. Oh goodness.” Robin is being way too polite. You’d thought for sure she would’ve yelled at you and banned you from coming to the mountains ever again. You already kissed goodbye to both Sebastian (literally) and your mining career. And half your fishing career.

Sebastian’s face is flooded in color. It’s soaked in red and radiating heat that you can feel even with the ten-foot distance you had placed between yourselves. He’s not looking at you or his mother, eyes instead fixed on the patch of torn up dirt behind you. 

Finally, you process that Robin is the one apologizing to you, which is ridiculous and you wish she would’ve just pushed you into the river and screamed at you instead. You wish these people would’ve been a lot meaner to you already, and then maybe you would have never worked up the gall to kiss the man you’re stupidly in love with and cause this whole ordeal. 

“I’m so sorry,” and you’re the one saying it this time. You turn to look at Robin fully and resist the urge to fall to your knees and beg for her forgiveness. Tonight, you committed a mortal sin—giving her son a big fat heart-stopping kiss on the mouth right in front of their house—and you can only be forgiven by death, and death alone. 

There’s a confused look in her eyes, almost worried, and you think you might be actually shaking enough to launch yourself into the stratosphere like a space cannon. Instead, you channel the energy into completely turning yourself around and running away from the both of them. 

Disastrous. This night has been disastrous. You would’ve rather actually puked on everyone’s shoes instead of going through whatever the hell that was. You’re never going to catch a break in this stupid town with these stupid people and stupid Sebastian and his too-sweet-for-her-own-good mom. 

When you get home, you’re panting in exhaustion from sprinting across the valley, and your nerves and head are still buzzing and your lips are still warm from Sebastian’s being completely and willingly planted on them for about ten whole seconds. Your brain is too fried and melted to even consider the implications of everything you both just did, but you can’t seem to care. 

You’re embarrassed. Wholly and utterly humiliated, and for a moment you cross your fingers and pray to whoever will listen that you won’t be a topic of discussion during Robin and Sebastian’s family dinner with everyone else. 

You take a moment to catch your breath (an impossible thing) and finally collapse into your bed. You’re staring at your ceiling for what feels like hours, but you have a very poor sense of time and don’t trust that judgment at all. Everything settles in your head like mud shaken in a jar of water. And you smile. Dear god. Despite it all, you’re smiling and giddy and laughing to yourself, riding a high of schoolgirl-type-infatuation and post-kiss-adrenaline the weird, cruel excitement of the night. 

You kissed him. You kissed Sebastian. You. Fucking. Did it. 

The rest can be worried about tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that. Maybe even never, because you are absolutely going to avoid everyone and move in with the wizard instead, living in isolation for the rest of your life. But for now. You swing your feet and giggle like a twelve-year-old and replay the kiss in your head. Over and over. Like a sleep aid. You fucking did it.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dear John || Pt.1

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: ☑️ My sweet Bri begged for a love-letter-centric Egan fic and with her wonderfully infectious ideas this was produced, the first part of many.

Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters, he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

It was specified in the request to use or create some of those old WWII dirty acronyms, so in here you have Bucky making up his own for his starlet crush (acorn). I’m ripping off a few ladies here, Lana Turner, Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarr to name a few -the moodbaord is for general aesthetics, I try to keep my fem!readers and oc’s as ambiguous physically as possible. (Besides the fact Johnny Egan finds you mouthwatering, which -be honest with yourself here sweet thing!!- he would.

Rating: 18+ this is the letter writing, vintage form of sexting. i kid you not, this man swings wildly from sweet as pie to downright filthy and vintage slang for anatomical parts is used freely. This would make a better shameful diary entry than a letter but he’s a rogue and he’s in a war, cut him some slack.

Fun game: how many times can Major Egan manage to mention Buck in a horny fan letter to his crush?

Dear A.C.O.R.N.

It is highly unlikely that you remember me, but, all the same, we have met. Now, hear me out, I’m sure fellas say that to you all the time but my point still stands and to match them I’ll do you one better, seeing as how I am not buttering you up for something in return -I have met you, yes, but I have also sung to you.

There. Said it.

Not that you’d recall that either, but then again maybe you would, but either way it doesn’t matter as the entire reason I am writing to you is because it is entirely unlikely you will ever open this god-awful endeavor made of pen and ink.

I am quite drunk, you see.

A necessary medicine. And they do make good whiskey here, one of the few joys they haven’t rationed yet. It’s got me wondering what’s your poison of choice. Something fruity? Or are you an olive sucker? Like that salt on the rim? Or maybe you go for somethin’ silky and warm goin’ down your throat? Which-ever it is, I bet you’d be a surprise, sweet ACORN, I just know it. You were a surprise at the canteen. Back in Jersey? Before shipping out? I know you were on a whole tour and kisses were goin’ for dollars but still, you were a surprise.

A lovely one, really. And that’s the point of this letter. To tell you that you're lovely and while I’m not the pen-pal sort, I’ve written home 80 letters tonight to families whose boys I was supposed to bring home. It got me thinking: Bucky, why the hell don’t you write nice letters? Whyd you only write ‘em now that you gotta? And it occurred to me then that the one silver lining in this whole Air Exec job is the desk, the lamp and the office.

I could write anybody from here. I could write you.

And you wouldn't read it so I could write anything. And it could be a nice letter. ‘Cause I don’t know anybody of yours to tell you anythin’ sad about them and you don’t know me except that I’m alive and drunk. Which is better than those poor eighty two bastards. Which reminds me, I’ve still got two more but maybe Buck will take those, he took seventeen off to his bunk to write from there. Buck doesn't have a desk because he’s not as important as me and he has all the luck.

You’ve met Buck, too, Acorn. He was the appalled pretty one with the straw colored hair pulling me off you after we had our duet. He objects to your nickname, see, even though you didn’t seem to mind. You were lovely, A.C.O.R.N. And I’d not wanna ruin this letter by telling you what it means, not now that I’m actually writing to you and determined to be nice but Buck knows and while he agrees with me as much as any man in the nation that you’ve got the most robust rack on the silver screen -he has objections, you see. So it wasn’t the song or the canoodling he didn’t like, and I still say, he broke up a little love affair that night. Bastard. So I’m writing to you now because as the acronym suggests, I’ve got a goal in my mind in regards to you. I tell myself -Bucky, there’s reasons to make it back.

Reasons, Bucky, reasons. Like Acorn and her halo of gorgeous hair that smelled like coconuts and the way she thought my new lyrics were pretty clever. That’s what you said, acorn, you said they were pretty clever. Now I may have been a little drunk then, too, but I think you might’ve been tipsy, that coke smelled too strong to be straight. I still have the straw you gave me, it’s bent to hell but I’ve taken it up each mission. I’m not counting on it for luck so much as a reminder of the aforementioned reasons. To come back. Your lipstick has mostly worn off but I figure it’s still the same.

You had your precious lips around it. That’s what matters.

And that’s the sorta sentence that makes Buck think I shouldn’t write letters.

But what he can’t accuse me of is being dishonest or vague. I’m being straight with you. You deserve that much, you were lovely and very straight shootin’ yourself, dear little girl. I could pinch your cheeks right now, you’re so sweet. And don’t think me a coward for sayin’ all this under assumption that you won’t read it. I hope you don’t since it’s not worth your time and if you do I wish I’d written less about me and more about you but I need you to know if we were face to face I’d say the same:

You were lovely, you ARE lovely!!!! and I think all your work for us boys is swell and you’ve got the bestest set of knockers any of us have ever seen and I’m stayin’ alive in hopes to see ‘em again some day and while the girls here are swell and sweet they aren’t zippy like you. At least not the ones who’ve put out so far. And if I had you face to face, I’d find a way to make you laugh again and I’d tell you to your face you’re lovely and if I’d been David Nivin in Love Trap with you, I’d have stayed in that little kitchen with you and ate all your burnt flapjacks and watched you in your apron and made babies with you till we were old.

Anyway. It needed saying. And maybe I’ll say it to your face given the chance again. I was working my way up to a proposition for burgers and milkshakes when Buck ruined it. But maybe you’ll tour? Here!! Over here. In England or maybe in Europe once we kick the Nazis bastards out.

Now that’s motivation. That’s a reason! -clear out a nice little swath of land through fortress europe so Miss Lana Tierney can sing in the city of lights surrounded by nothin’ but wine and good food and a buncha boys who love and appreciate her.

Because we do, ma’am. We do.

And make no mistake, I do this to keep the country safe and try to bring as many boys home as I can but every second I also think - it’s where you are too, and so I must continue keeping it safe.

If you, by some godawful chance, do read this letter, please don’t feel pressed to respond or pull out a restraining order. Think of it this way, it’d just be one more “Dear John” letter and the system is clogged as it is. You just deserve a nice letter and my wrist is past sore, one more doesn't matter. And being unable to deliver nice, I’ve written this.

~ I am ever your respectful (and hammered) admirer, Maj. John Egan

P.S. if you do happen to read this I’m sorry. Buck told me not to do this but I just had to Acorn. You’re just too swell and I really have got to get myself to a theater before long, I miss your Angel face.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! This was entirely out of my usual comfort zone but I’ve had fun writing it and I’m trying to tune my ear to pick up his voice, that’s been stretching. This series will have many letters in it but there will also be fic, so fear not. I’ve got some plans already figured out for this series but I do love a suggestion or ten so have at the inbox with what you’d like to see play out.

Hope you enjoyed, if you’d like to be tagged in future MOTA fics, drop a note below.

[herb10]

Justin as a Dad... (Part I)

Summary: headcanon list of Justin as a new father from pregnancy to birth Pairing(s): Justin Herbert x fem!reader Warning(s): mentions of pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, mentions of sex, swearing, etc.

Disclaimer: the following written work comprises "real person fanfiction" (RPF); any characters mentioned are entirely fictional or fictionalised versions of real people. Any dialogue, circumstance, and/or any other trait of this work that bears semblance to reality is coincidence.

[masterlist]

- Justin would be so excited to hear you're pregnant

- "are you serious?" "you're joking with me, right?"

- when you hand him the pregnancy test, he just stares at it with a soft little smile

- his smile would grow until he was beaming with joy as the realisation sinks in that, no, you're not joking, you really are pregnant

- he'd wrap you in his massive arms and give you the biggest bear hug

- he'd definitely get emotional and maybe even tear up, but would try to hide it by burying his face in your hair

- his voice would be all choked up when he tells you that he's so happy and that he loves you, clearing his throat to try and compose himself

- he would be so excited to tell all of your family and friends, but would definitely wait until you were both ready to make the news known however

- he would get so emotional when telling his mum and dad that they were going to be grandparents omg

- big hugs from his parents as they congratulate both of you on the happy news

- he would be so protective of you and your baby's privacy and wellbeing

- everyone would be under strict instructions not to advertise the pregnancy unless both of you were ready to make the news public

- he'd legit be furious if the news somehow broke on social media or in some article without his or your consent

- would probably speak in code to not reveal the news to anyone outside your trusted circle

- "taking our cat to the vet" = going to the doctor's with you lmao

- would sometimes forget that you're pregnant in the very stages until something reminds him that he's going to be a dad

- seeing a baby in a stroller in the supermarket? "Oh yeah, I'm gonna be a dad". Cute baby shoes at the Nike store? "I'm gonna be a dad!"

- would feel awful for you during the morning sickness phase

- he'd get up no matter the time to comfort you, hold your hair back, get you a glass of water, or whatever else you needed in that moment

- grabbing you food at the store on his way back from the facility or getting food delivered randomly when you have a sudden craving for taco bell

- he'd understand that being pregnant isn't a disability and that you could still do things for yourself, but he'd still kinda treat you like you were made of glass lol

- "I got it" would become his catchphrase and he'd use it whenever he saw you trying to do anything that involved bending, reaching...or moving lol

- Justin: "I got it!" You: "Justin, I can get myself a glass of water just fine 😅"

- he'd be in his Acts of Service element, taking care of you as best as he could

- he'd know that pregnancy is a big change for you, so would be as patient and as understanding as possible if you were experiencing mood swings

- however...don't expect him to be a pushover and bend to every whim or allow unreasonable behaviour just bc of pregnancy-induced hormones

- Justin: "babe, I get that you're pregnant and that you're going through a lot right now, but I'm doing my best"

- he'd still expect you to be his partner and that you could face the challenges of pregnancy together

- on a more happy note, this man would have his hands all over the bump when you start to show

- tbh he'd have his hands all over you fullstop

- he'd let you know every opportunity he got how sexy he thought you were, even if you didn't feel that way about yourself

- You: "I look like a beached whale...". Justin: "You look so fucking good..."

- back hugs with his arms around you, his hands on the bump, to show you the changes to your body don't detract from your beauty, only add to it

- the pregnancy sex would be so fire omfg

- he'd be so gentle and let you command the pace until you were crying out for him to pound you and oh boy would he oblige

- probably some of the best sex you ever had tbh bc he'd be trying so fucking hard to make you feel good

- he'd love any hormonal feral horniness from you too and would be practically running home to you after practice lmfao

- would be so fucking excited when you felt the first little kick

- would probably make kicker or punter jokes about the baby

- would probably come up with cute little nicknames for the baby, like "peanut" or "shrimp"

- would sneak daddy-and-bump time in the early morning before leaving for practice whilst you were asleep

- speaking to the bump, gently laying a warm hand on your belly to feel the baby kick in response

- he'd really treasure those quiet moments where he could connect with his child before the birth

- would be proactive in preparations for the baby

- helping you buy and build furniture for the baby's nursery, no matter how tired and bruised he was from football

- he'd help you organise and make an inventory of everything you could ever possibly need

- he'd have a birthing bag packed and by the door very early on (and probably a spare in the car, y'know, just in case)

- big gender reveals aren't his thing but he'd be ok with a small gathering and a more tame reveal idea, like a cake with a coloured filling, etc.

- kinda think he'd like the surprise and wouldn't mind not knowing the gender before the baby was born

- he'd be more than happy for you to have a baby shower if it was something you wanted tho

- he'd be a bit wary of any social media attention and probably would prefer if photos of the occasion were kept off social media however...

- as long as you had both talked and agreed on if/when you would go public with the news, he'd be fine with it

- would desperately want to be at all of your scans and antenatal classes and would make as much effort as possible to be there

- he'd work late some days so he could take time off to attend "baby stuff" with you; this man would not want to miss a single milestone

- he'd especially love going to scans bc he'd get to see his child, hear their strong heartbeat, and it would all feel a bit more real to him

- this nerd would be paying so much attention in antenatal classes omfg he'd practically be a TA again

- ...being real, football would definitely factor into the birth plan; you and Justin would have to decide on a plan of action for every possible outcome

- if you were due during the season, you'd have to be prepared to be induced during a bye week or between games

- he'd also arrange for someone you trust to be with you in his absence if something happened and you went into labour when he wasn't there

- if you did go into labour whilst he was at a game, I don't think he'd leave until the game was over ngl

- but he'd be stressed as balls not to be at your side

- you can bet your ass he would be running out of the stadium the moment the game ended (still in his cleats and uniform probably) to a waiting car or a private jet on standby so he could hightail it back to you

- anxious facetiming with you the entire way home, checking to make sure you were ok

- Justin's all about being prepared so he'd plan for every situation imaginable to avoid that tho

- he would absolutely want to be there to support you and welcome your baby into the world

- he'd want to be there to rub your back, hold you up when you needed to stand or lean on something, get you hot or cold compresses...

- whatever you needed he'd want to be the one doing it for you

- during labour, he'd truly hate to see you in pain and would probably feel a little impotent

- for a man so used to being prepared and being in control, seeing you in pain and not really being able to help would absolutely cut him to his core

- the one thing he would be able to do was be the ultimate hype man when it came time to deliver your baby

- he'd speak words of encouragement to you like he was cheering on teammates from the sideline

- "you got this!" "you're almost there!" "you're doing awesome, babe, keep pushing!"

- he'd let you grip his hand so hard, he'd hold up your legs to help you push, he'd kiss your sweaty forehead and stroke your damp hair back from your face...

- literally anything to comfort you as you worked to bring your baby into the world

- would absolutely cry with joy when your baby was finally born and bundled up against your naked chest

- he'd be so damn proud of you and amazed by what you just accomplished

- would kiss you full on the lips and would put every ounce of love that he was feeling at that moment into it

- he'd just be so fixated on the blissful serenity of you and the baby, kissing you sweetly and placing his hand and yours on your baby's damp little head

- the chaos, pain, and anxiety of the moment, the buzz of the medical team working around you would be nonexistent to him in that moment

- he'd be so eager to hold your little baby boy or baby girl, but also slightly terrified by how tiny and vulnerable they seemed

- would spend forever just staring at them, marvelling at how you had both created something so utterly perfect

- he'd run a finger down their little button nose and count their tiny toes over and over, just to make sure they were all still there

- pure elation the moment those teeny fingers, with fingernails as small as a grain of rice, wrapped around one of his fingers

- this man is sentimental, so if your baby were a boy, I honestly think that he would love to honour his late Papa Schwab by naming his son for him

- and he would melt with love for you if you were the one to suggest the idea

- post-birth acts of service would include helping you up out of the bed, helping you wash yourself, changing the baby when you need rest, helping you with breastfeeding, etc.

- he'd encourage you to sleep for two reasons: 1) bc he loves you and you need the rest 2) bc it means time with the baby for himself

- would hold them, rock them, speak to them about literally anything and everything, maybe sing quietly (and badly probably lol) to them

- he'd especially love to do skin-to-skin with them and just have his baby bundled up against his bare chest, feeling their warmth and listening to their little grunts and squeaks

- would facetime family and probably get a bit emotional again but would do his best to keep it together lol

- watching him dress the baby for leaving the hospital would honestly be so cute and hilarious

- he'd be so damn gentle and cautious like he was defusing a bomb or something lmfao

- "just gonna move your arm over here, buddy" "sorry princess, daddy's gotta put your socks on" "jeez, when did clothes become so complicated?!"

- defensive driving the entire way home from the hospital bc he's got the most precious cargo in the back seat rn

- Justin: "doesn't anyone know how to drive anymore?!" You: "Justin, it's LA, no one knows how to drive"

- he'd be so excited to have friends and family to visit and introduce them to your baby bc he'd be so damn proud to show everyone what you ✨ made ✨

- but he'd want to make sure you were both settled first and adjusting to being new parents

- he'd have so much fun telling visiting family and friends about how amazing you were and teasing you affectionately

- Justin: "she was awesome, you should've seen her..." "could use her on my o-line!"

- as tired and as nervous as he'd be at times being a new dad, he'd be so happy to be home with you and your baby, both happy and healthy

- as someone who seems to be pretty family-oriented, he'd just love to be together with you as a newly expanded family of three, ready to face whatever parenthood threw your way...

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[coneyislandbabey]

well, my boyfriend's in a band. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: maybe some profanities

SYNOPSIS: Nobody thinks the thing between you and Eddie can be as pure and real as you say it is. word count: 1,323

NOTES: written for this request!

A lot of people talked about you and Eddie, now that you were publicly together, but none of them knew what they were saying. They spun the story like it was as old as time, unchangeable, inevitable, as sure a disaster as whatever or whoever they were comparing you to in the moment. Him, a rockstar, high on the enormous tide of fame and cocaine, a man who could have anything in the world at the snap of his fingers. You, a couple of years younger, elusive writer from the Los Angeles scene, enigmatic partier– naïve, obviously getting taken for a ride.

It never occurred to any of them that a man like Eddie Roundtree could be truly, inescapably gone for you. Why devote yourself to one girl when you could have as many as you wanted at any time? People had been asking that question about Billy Dunne for the Six’s entire career, and they couldn’t believe another band member was making the same ‘mistake’. Fame should mean freedom. As if getting to give your all to someone and receive their all in return wasn’t a kind of freedom in of itself.  

Let them talk. What difference did it make to you? 

When you stepped onto the tour bus, the afterparty was already in full swing. You hadn’t been able to catch the show because your flight had gotten in too late, but it didn’t matter; you’d be joining Eddie on tour for the next few months, so you had plenty of shows in your future. All you cared about was getting to your man. You located him sitting on the far corner of the couch, squished in with Graham and Warren and Warren’s girl of the night. You had spotted him before he spotted you, and you took a moment to take in the face you hadn’t been able to see since the tour started. His warm brown eyes crinkled in laughter, the sweep of his burnt sugar hair over his forehead. He was so beautiful it made your breath catch every time you allowed yourself to drink him in like that. 

“(y/n)!” Warren shouted, being the one to notice you first in the fray of the party, pointing to you with one long finger as if the shout wasn’t enough. Eddie’s head whipped around, and his mouth stretched into the widest grin at the sight of you. You returned the smile with your own, squeezing through the small, packed crowd until you landed right in his lap. 

Eddie’s arms instantly went around your waist, hands settling warm and solid on your lower back. Yours went loosely around his shoulders, your head dipping down to a well-received kiss. His eyes were bloodshot and he was half gone to whatever booze and drugs he’d done already, but even through the haze of inebriation they were settled on you. 

“You’re here, I can breathe again,” he said, voice lazy. He was leaned all the way back, head resting on the window behind him, like it was the first time his body had been able to relax in weeks. You lifted your palm to his cheek, rubbing your thumb gently along his lower lip, curved up in that little smirk of his. 

You bent your face close to him so that only he could hear you. “Missed you, too, baby boy.”

Eddie leaned over the side of the couch, and when he came back up he was holding his lighter– red, engraved with his name in gold, a gift from you shortly after you had started dating– and a joint. He lifted the joint and you took it in your lips, he grabbed your chin and held your face gently with his guitar-calloused fingers as he lit it for you. You took a long drag, exhaling only after the joint was between Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie’s hands went back to your waist, skimming up beneath your shirt and skating across your spine. The whole time he’d been away and you’d been stuck in Los Angeles without him, you’d felt unmoored, but you hadn’t realized the extent of it until you were finally back in his arms, back with your anchor. This was where you were meant to be, and Eddie felt that just as much as you did. 

The next night, you stood in the wings with Rod watching the band play. They were all mesmerizing in their own ways, especially, of course, Daisy and Billy singing together, but your eyes never left Eddie. He always exuded confidence, but never more so than when he was onstage, and it was intoxicating to see. He wore that cocky smirk on his face, the one that either made you want to smack him or kiss him and nothing in between, his body moving as one with the bass. He’d never wanted to play the instrument, you knew, but god did he play it like it had been made specifically for him. 

Any chance he got, his eyes were on you, even onstage, even in the middle of a song. As the song came to an end, he caught your eye for the hundredth time that night, bringing his hand to his mouth and blowing a kiss into the wings for you. You laughed, pretending to catch it and press it to your heart, making him grin before he had to turn away and start playing the next song. 

“That guy’s got it fuckin’ bad for you, huh,” Rod observed, and you snorted. 

“Mm, he better,” you nodded. 

Eddie made a beeline for you as soon as the show was over, shedding his bass on the way and scooping you up in his arms. You squeezed him tightly, laughing as he picked you up off the floor and spun you around. When he set you back down on the ground, you grabbed his face and kissed him, skin warm from the lights and exertion everywhere you touched, hair sweaty where your fingers tangled with it at the nape of his neck. 

“You were enthralling,” you told him once you had pulled away. 

“That was my best show so far,” he said, “Had to pull out all the stops because I knew my girl was watching.”

“Well, you really blew me away,” you laughed. “But you blow me away every time, you always will.” 

You two skipped the afterparty that night, instead heading straight to Eddie’s hotel room. You needed just each other, alone, away from the hecticness of tour. You wanted Eddie all to yourself, you always did, and Eddie would give you as much of himself as he could at every chance, just as you did for him. That’s why you found him so easy to love; he knew what you needed from him, and was nearly tripping over himself to give it to you. 

The next morning, you were in a diner with Eddie catching a quick breakfast before the buses had to leave. Your eyes scanned the newspaper rack in boredom as you waited for your food, and your mouth drew up into a smirk as you spotted something familiar. 

You grabbed the tabloid and turned, showing it to Eddie. On the front was a photo of him on stage from the night before, eyes turned towards the wings, hand extended mid-gesture as he blew you a kiss. A smaller photo was superimposed in the corner, catching the two of you walking out of the venue later that night, your arm looped through the crook of his elbow as you walked back to the hotel. The headline was something invasive and completely false about your relationship, but you ignored it. 

“They love to talk about us,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“These pictures are pretty good, actually,” Eddie said, grabbing the tabloid to get a better look. “I should get in touch with them and ask if I can have some copies of ‘em.”

tag list: @eonnyx

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Bonds 2

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Trans!Masc Reader

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping/captivity, manipulation, non-consensual touching (cuddles), general yandere themes. Reader has been pretty thoroughly conditioned in this, posted non-chronologically.

There is the soft sound of cracking flames and breathing filling the room, a thick, almost heavy heat that sinks into your bones and makes it hard to think. The logs had long since almost burned themselves out, casting a low, red light over the entire room, a far cry from the cheery yellow it had been not three hours before. Everything is dim and soft, the shadows jumping and dancing when the flames sputter and lick up the logs, refusing to die out.

You hum, sleepy and tired, and turn your head. It’s late, late enough that you wonder when the grandfather clock was going to swing open and let your siblings back into the Manor. Soon, you think. You hoped. It was exhausting, waiting up for them when you didn’t operate on the same schedule they did, unused to pulling long nights without rest and the intense exhaustion that came with what they did.

You huff, pushing the blanket off yourself. The heat was almost stifling, almost uncomfortable, and you lament the fact that you were allowed to open the windows. One gust of Gotham’s wind, biting and chilling and so very dangerous to those who either didn’t know to get out of it in the winter months or couldn’t, would bring relief right away, cool the room down instantly. It used to do the same to your old apartment, even if you hadn’t wanted it to. Wormed it’s way into the cracks and crevices around the windows, whistled loudly as it battered against the door.

Wayne Manor didn’t have that issue. You’re still adjusting to it.

The clock dongs, and you groan, turning your head over to look at it. Fuck, it was late. Late enough you should have gone to bed hours ago, but the silent Manor was almost eerie, the lack of your siblings or Father almost disturbing. Alfred was in the Cave, where you weren’t allowed anyways, monitoring the comms. And you, most likely, now that you thought about it.

The grandfather clock swings open.

You push yourself up, and there’s a strange mix of relief and anxiety in your chest. While you hadn’t, technically, been breaking any rules, you weren’t supposed to be up this late.

It’s Bruce who comes through the entrance first. There’s a heavy exhaustion written all over him, a tiredness that makes your chest twist with something that feels like worry and just might be. Your eyes skim him for injury, for blood, whether it was his or someone else’s.

“You’re not supposed to be up this late.” He frowns, all severe lines and frowns.

“It’s too quite. I couldn’t sleep.” You say, and that makes his shoulders soften, the sternness melting away into something softer, more sympathetic. He sighs, then pulls back his cowl.

“Right. I’m sorry we had to leave you home alone, it was all hands on deck tonight.” He apologizes, like leaving you home alone in the Manor is some great sin he had committed. It was fine. You just weren’t used to the quiet.

“It’s fine, Dad.”

You assure, and he hums. He doesn’t believe you, you know, but he doesn’t press.

The shadows in entrance to the cave shift, just slightly, and Cass melts into your view. You had never figured out how your older sister did that, melted in and out shadow like she belonged in them, but she had startled you more times than you could count doing that. Part of you thought she found it funny.

“Why don’t you let me put a movie on?” You offer, tilting your head. They were always exhausted after patrol, nearly always put on some nostalgic, gentle movie after a long night. You were pretty sure it helped them unwind after a harsh night. It would help you. It had helped you, after fights with them over things that weren’t important and nights when you hadn’t been able to think about anything other than freedom.

“Did you stay up for us? You know you have a bed time, yeah, baby bat?” Dick teases, and you hadn’t even seen him come up, too focused on Cass and Bruce.

“I do not, actually. Y’all just worry I don’t sleep enough.” You huff, batting his hand away gently. He grins, dragging you towards him. It’s not careful, there’s strength behind it, but not enough to hurt.

“That’s because you take after the old man and don’t sleep damn near enough.” Jason scoffs, coming up the stairs and into the room. Tim follows, then Steph and Damian. The only person missing was Duke, but Duke was at his uncles, out of state.

“Okay, well, do you want this stupid movie on or not?” You huff, annoyed. Dick still had you trapped against him, and you knew that wasn’t changing any time soon, so you resign yourself to another night of being forcibly cuddled until you fell asleep. If you were particularly unlucky Tim would manage to cling to you like an octopus and fall asleep, in which case you wouldn’t be able to move for the next day without fear of disclosing him, because any time Tim fell asleep he suddenly developed a death grip and a complete inability to wake up unless a bomb goes off.

“I’ll put it on! It was my turn to pick anyway, no matter what Jason says.” Steph volunteers, flicking the tv on and scrolling through the movies so quickly you barely even have time to look at the titles.

“Slow down, Blondie, fuck.” Jason grumbles, squinting at the screen in annoyance. “My concussion may be gone but that shits annoying.”

“You got a concussion?” You can’t help the barely hidden alarm in your voice. You can’t help it. It wasn’t like Jason had any brain cells he could risk losing, for one, with all the extensive head trauma he had already gotten, and for two, you were ninety percent sure he wasn’t supposed to be looking at a screen after getting one.

“Minor concussion. Practically babies first concussion. ‘Sides, Alfie already checked me out and deemed me a-okay.”

“He’s also benched for the next two days.” Bruce tells you dryly, and you snort.

“You’re as bad as Tim.” The puffed up offense is entirely warranted, and you laugh as he drags you against him, tugging you out of Dick’s grip. Dick pouts, predictably, and you snort, amused. Sometimes your older brother was just a little pathetic.

“Oh, bullshit.”

He snorts, settling into the couch. You end up curled between him and Bruce, and Dick pouts again, before he crawls across the top of the couch, splaying himself out to be in contact with all three of you. It’s borderline uncomfortable to look at, a delicate balancing act that came so naturally to him.

“We’re watching The Devil Wears Prada.” Steph announces. “Because we haven’t seen it in forever.”

“We watched it just the other night!” Jason argues, even as the movie starts to play. You settle further into Bruce’s side, who curls an arm around you lightly as he watches your siblings bicker.

“Fuck you, you don’t hear me complaining everytime you want to watch Little Women!” Steph shoots back, and you laugh.

“That is a goddamn masterpiece, you shut the fuck up. It’s way better than fucking- this shit!” Jason argues, almost genuinely offended.

“Shouldn’t you be intervening?” You stage whisper to Bruce, who shoots you an almost conspiratorial look.

“They don’t listen to me anyways.” You laugh, and it’s nice. Happy.

The sound of the movie and bickering and bodies shifting around each other is calming. Familiar. At some point you drift off, and you wake up to the familiar sensation of being carried in warm arms, safe and secure.

You hum, letting them tuck you in carefully, press a kiss to your forehead. You wouldn’t have, months ago, but now it was something long familiar. Welcomed, even.

You can’t remember what changed. You think you were glad it did.

[ultralightpoe]

Blood of my Blood- Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: This is my first Aemond imagine. There will be a couple more  parts  (not long of a wait since I have already started the next part). Any hate will not be tolerated but I do hope you guys like it. Reader is written as a female. I do take requests so feel free to send some in.

Warnings: Smut, a little angst, beginning of a deranged Aemond. Next part will be terrifying for him 

Word Count: 3,328 (lmao. I went hard on this one) 

Description: Aemond falls in love with a woman already married. Not that anything ever gets in his way. 

Part 2     Part 3

            Life had been dull. That was the best word Aemond had been able to use to explain his life. Dull, empty, utterly useless. 

            He was the second born son, fourth born child. Even if something happened to his spoiled sister he would still not be a contender for the throne. There were her shit kids, and then his brother, then whatever heir his brother would provide. 

           Aemond could only really be thought of as useless. 

           So he trained, fought, and killed. Over and over and over. Any days he spent at Kings Landing were in the gardens listening to his older sister talk to herself and or barging in on council meetings in order to make something of himself.

          Dull, boring. The only thing he truly loved was flying with Vhagar. 

         But then…..then there was you.  

          The sun was shining the day you arrived, it had left a soft sheen of sweat across his skin that the wind dried off when he took Vhagar out for a bit of freedom that day, he liked to make sure she got her flight in everyday. The bastards could think he stole her all they want, but a dragon chooses its rider just as they choose their dragon. It’s a calling. 

         Vhagar was his, and he knew that she desperately craved an early morning flight everyday. 

          He had returned earlier that morning than normal, there was a lord to be arriving to court and it was important that the entire royal family be there. That included his older sister Rhaenyra coming, and whenever she was there his mother was intense on how late he was. It was best never to be late. 

         He had taken a seat next to his sister, still smelling like the morning breeze from his ride, doing his best to drone out his older sister mumbling under her breath. “Sunlight trapped by a falcon.”

           He avoids his mothers pointed glare and the wretched smell coming from his brother, he also avoids his half sister's entire family on his other side, which leaves him to stare forward. Which was fine, anyone not in his direct family had an issue looking at his face, the patch unsettling to them all. Weak bastards. 

             Soon enough they were announcing the lord and everyone stood out of respect, his father struggling on the throne and groaning in pain as he tried to stand tall. 

              The lord, a middle aged man with a messy beard and a beer gut, walked in with a gloating smile. His large hammer strapped to his back and his house crest stood out against the ugly colors of his house. The crest was a falcon, the colors green and red. Disgusting. 

            But his breath stops short when you come in, you…..you, you , you you. 

             Aemond could not breath, his spine going rigid as his eye catches you walking behind the lord with an older female using you to help her walk as well. 

            You kept your gaze to the ground, refusing to look up even when Aemond was mentally begging you to.  Please just look up, please let me see your face-

            Then you did, and it felt like every breath he had taken before this moment merely helped him survive, but this………looking at you was breathing. His lungs filled with air and his chest easing. You were air, fresh air. The air while flying a dragon, wild and clean and -

             “-I would also like to introduce to the king my lady wife, Y/n Borlis. Now lady of-” And all Aemond was able to hear from that point on was a harsh ringing in his ears. 

             He debated killing the man, one swing of his sword and he would marry you and-

                It was like you finally heard his thoughts, lifting your head and making contact with him. A feeling of shame crossed through him, making his mouth water with nausea as he awaited you to look at him with disgust. Just as everyone did. 

But you didn’t. 

You didn’t look away. Not for a second. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

               His mother thought it was weird how attached Aemond was to you. She fought it quite a bit. 

               You had been married 2 months ago, an alliance was necessary for your husband to get men and win a battle. He had, and now he was parading around the castle as if he was a god, if gods were drunken disgusting bastards. 

               He would never have won that battle without your fathers men. So you should have been getting the attention.  But it seemed no one cared for you. 

               You spent your afternoons with his grandmother, sewing and listening. You didn’t say a word and anytime he spotted you in the gardens you never smiled.

            You had been there for 2 weeks before he was even able to catch a word from you. But he did. 

            He planned the day perfectly, instead of taking Vhagar for a morning flight he stalled until the sun was already up. That way when he landed he would be able to walk through the gardens right as you-

           Perfect timing, just as he was taking a glove off and sauntering through the garden you were helping your husband's grandmother out. Aemond thought the woman was absolutely wretched, although he thought this of mostly everyone. 

           But from the conversations he had eavesdropped on he knew he was ready to kill the old hag. She spent her hours lecturing you, about your weight and your lack of children and your lack of blah blah blah. 

          What was it her fucking business? To him you were absolutely perfect and it was so much better that you weren’t pregnant.  

         “Lady Mirva, Lady Y/n….” He says softly, bending his head out of respect but he makes sure to angle himself to you and only you. 

           He notices how his grandmother pinches your arm harshly while you both curtsy, mumbling out a soft “My prince.” 

            He clenches his fist, desperate to grab his sword and swing it at the old hags neck. He would take you and run to the throne room and beg for your hand and- shit. You were watching him. 

             “How is the sun treating you today?” He casts a slight look to the old hag, who had covered most of her skin. 

               “Oh, it is quite  perfect prince. We are very blessed for your father to have-”

              “I believe I was asking Lady Y/n.” He snaps, arms pulling to meet each other behind his back as both fists clench in anger. 

               He sees the old lady look shocked, and you look absolutely terrified. But he had planned this. “Lady Mirva, it is far too hot for you to be outside in the gardens today, and I’m sure my dearest sister could use the company. My guards can escort you to her-”

              “That would be wonderful, my prince.” She nods, leaving you to him….finally. 

               “I should go with my-” You begin, and Aemond feels a burst of energy in your voice. 

            “No! Please. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed our gardens, please allow me to escort you…” He holds an arm out, hand shaking a little as he does. Desperate to touch your skin, and he feels like fainting when you grab onto his hand, walking with him through the gardens. 

         “It is an honor, My Prince-”

         “Aemond. You must call me Aemond.” 

            “Oh I possibly could not-”

            “You must. An order, I’m afraid.” He teases, internally screaming when you crack a small smile and chuckle a little.  

         “Well if the prince demands it….Aemond it is.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

              He had made that his daily routine, trapping his sister with the old hag every morning while he spent time with you. He was desperate to spend every possible second with you. He began sitting at your table during meal times. He would meet you outside your chambers in the morning and escort you to breakfast. Then you began walking with him to greet Vhagar in the mornings before going to see your husband. 

             Your disgusting ass of a husband. 

               Aemonds day wasn’t complete unless he had imagined a hundred different ways to murder that man, especially when he saw your bruises and tear stained face in the mornings. He was desperate to kill that man, to watch the blood leak from his body. 

               You had been in kings landing for 2 months, and spent nearly every open second with him, any second your husband didn’t drag you away from him.

               He fully had you in the early hours of a rainy morning. 

                 It had been storming all night, and he had just gotten back from trying to scout an enemy on the shores. His first stop was to get to you. 

                  He had knocked on the doors, not really bothering to care that it was far too early in the morning and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. You didn’t answer. Not surprising considering the time. But he persisted, and you still didn’t answer. His heart beat through his lungs and he dismissed the guards, barging through the doors. 

                  He was ready to throw up, if something had happened to you he would slaughter anyone in reach and tear the world apa-

                    And then he saw you. In your bathing chambers, sobbing and scrubbing at your body. Your skin was red and screaming, blood dripping from the spots you had scrubbed far too much. 

                    He called your name, or at least he thought he did but you didn’t look at him, you simply kept scrubbing. Sobs racked your body as you kept the movement going, and Aemond was reaching to stop you. 

                     “Hey hey hey. Easy now.” He orders as his arms encircle you, a scream ripping from your lips as you struggle until you recognize his scent and hair. 

                        “Aemond-” You whisper, looking at him. He feels his heart shatter. Your neck was once again covered in bruises and it seems you’ve been scrubbing at your skin for hours. “Aemond, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

                  You kept sobbing as you wrapped around him, your entire body exposed to him as the anger began talking over. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

               “I’m sorry. I’m sorry-” He wanted to cradle your head, and kiss away all the pain. He wanted to comfort you, but he needed to know what the problem was to fix it. So he takes a hand, gripping your chin and making you look into his eye, his other arm pulling you out of the water and bringing you to his chest. 

               “What do you have to be sorry about? What does my little bird ever have to be sorry about?” He whispers, rubbing from your jaw to your chin, eyes pleading. “Tell me. Tell me all your worries and let me kill them.”

               “I am trying. I swear it. I’m trying to bear a ch-”  He looked away, he couldn’t possibly hear it. You were hurting yourself over that? Over bearing that fool a bastard that didn’t deserve you?

               “Enough.” It’s nearly silent, his throat too locked up for much sound to come out. 

                 You seem to take the order as a rejection and your body lunges away from him with another sob, he’s quick to snatch you back to him. “No. No easy, look at me.”

              “I’m sorry Aemond-”

                 “Enough. Don’t be sorry. You do not need to be sorry.” He sneers, pulling your forehead against his as his hands grip your jaw, your own clinging to his tunic. “Please don’t be sorry. Please don’t.”

               The kiss that follows is gentle, for just a moment, before he is devouring you. He drags his lips across yours before biting down in an effort to mark you, fresh air filling his lungs even though you hadn’t broken from the kiss. 

               You’re tugging him in, seemingly trying to mold your body to his own as he tugs your hair and deepens the kiss even more. He’s taking steps to the bed in the middle of your room, hands grasping everywhere he can possibly touch while also trying to keep you as close as he possibly can. 

                He’s ripping his tunic off as he presses you into the bed, moaning as you bite down on his lip before pulling away to pull the fabric over his head. You whine and grasp at him from the lack of contact, pulling a smug smile from him as he tugs at his pants and boots. “I just need to-”

                “Aemond please.” He feels a tug at his ribcage, looking at you in this moment of desperation. Your eyes were still leaking tears and you were sniffling as you reached for him once more, hands rubbing up his chest until they got to his neck and hair, grasping at anything you possibly can. “This is dishonorable-”

             “I know.” He answers, chest expanding as he leans closer.  “I can leave.”

             “NO!” You gasp out, reaching to grab him and stroke, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he needed you, he needed to marry you and care for you and to take- “Please Aemond.” 

         “You….. you need to say it.” He whispers, hand reaching to stop your wrist, kissing along your cheek softly. “Please just say it little bi-”

           “Make me yours Aemond.” And now he was a crazed man. 

             Before he can even grasp his own thought process he has you pressed into the bed, one hand reaching to rub your folds, drawing a moan from you. His left hand comes up to hold your jaw as he pulls you in for another intense kiss. 

             “On any other day,” He gasps out, voice barely a whisper. “I would spend hours in between your legs, a feast for me, but today we do not have time and I need you-”

             And you laugh, a light airy laugh that has a wide smile covering his own face as he finally thrusts into you. 

                  He takes a second to let you adjust, your chests pressed together as he grunts and feels you. You were still so tight, and he tried not to let the pride take over at the fact that he was stretching you so far. 

               “All those nights your shit husband takes you and you’re still this tight- gods, you were made for me.” His words draw a moan from you as your hips move up in a desperate attempt to make him move. “Yeah? You like when I say that? How you were made just for me?”

          “Uh huh-” You gasp out, back arching as he begins moving his hips in slow but deep thrusts. 

             “Good. Because you were made for me. Your soul to match mine and your body mine to fuck. He doesn’t deserve you, no one fucking deserves you.” He speeds up, his thrusts getting faster and harder as you cling to him, lifting you both so he is on his knees with you splayed across his thighs, bouncing you on his member. 

                The sound of skin slapping and wet squelching filled the room as he began grunting, one hand tight around your waist while the other hand that had been rubbing your clit moves up your body to softly rub at the harsh bruises on your neck. 

                 “One day I will strangle him to match. I’ll hurt him just as he fucking hurt you. I’ll. Kill. Him.” And that was your undoing. He watched in amazement as you came around him, a loud moan falling from your lips as your head fell back and your nails dug into his shoulders and back. 

                  “My king-” You moaned, and he was right behind you, filling you up without a second thought. “My king….my king….. My brilliant masterful king.”

                 He’s kissing your neck softly as he lays you both back onto the bed, your arms still wrapped tightly around him. “I can fix this…. Let me fix this for you….”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                He spent every morning with you after that, coming in  the early hours before the sun was close to coming up, right after your husband left you every night. 

                 He would bathe with you, washing you clean before taking you in the bath and then again in the bed. He kept to his promise of feasting on you, every morning, before taking you and claiming you as his. Your moans filled him with a purpose and your smile gave him something to live for. 

                He was your lover. He was your soulmate. 

               It had been five days since he saw you, out on a bullshit search that dragged him away from you. What if that idiot hurt you? What if something happened and he wasn’t there? What if-

               “I believe we are ready to head back, My Prince.” A soldier mumbles, bowing to Aemond from where he stood on the sand. Aemond looks to Vhagar, his dragon already looking to kings landing in a yearning stare. 

             “I know, girl. I know.” He mutters, climbing up to the saddle. “To Y/n.”

                The dragon knew what to do instantly, taking off in a flight to the castle you would be in, ready to see you again. 

               Aemond had taken you to ride Vhagar countless times and it seemed to have paid off. 

               When he lands he’s going to your chambers, ignoring his mothers calls, his only thought of you. 

                 He nods to the guards, walking in after they turn away and he searches for you. It’s not a long search, he finds you sitting on your bed. You’re staring out the window, looking at the dragonpit. 

                 “Were you watching me return for you, my little bird?” He teases, waltzing up to you and kissing your neck, his arms wrapping around you. You instantly melt into him, hands gripping his own but you refuse to look his way.

              “Look at me.” He whispers, though he already knows what he will see when you do. Just as he predicted, a split lip and eyes filled with tears. He moves to let go, already having a plan to march to where he is and rip out that fools tongue. 

                 You’re quick though, hands already grasping his and keeping him to you. “Aemond no.”

                  “No no no. Don’t tell me no. I’m going to kill him- I will-”

                 “I’m pregnant.” You mumble, a sob escaping your lips. “Aemond I’m pregnant.” 

                   He’s at a loss for words, nothing to say. 

                “Aemond I’m pregnant…….”

                  “Why are you sad? This…..This is what you needed.” He tries to sound happy for you, but the thought of losing you to a babe has his chest tightening, it was getting hard to breathe. “I…..We need to get the royal maesters to treat you….. You need the best care-”

                  “I’m not royal Aemond.” You remind, pulling him to sit with you on the bed.  “I’m not allowed access.”

            “I’ll get you the fucking access.” He snarls. “You need someone who knows what they are doing. You could die-”

           “They are going to kill me, Aemond.” You mumble. 

             “Not if we get you to the royal ma-”

              “Not the babe you fool. I will be beheaded for adultery.” You snap, thumb rubbing at his scar as you slip the patch off. It had been a long time since you had first seen his sapphire eye, and whereas he expected you to turn away disgusted you had simply spent the next two hours treating him like a king. 

               “No.” It’s the only word he can process while you shake your head. “I won’t let them- this will not-”

              “There is a strong chance it’s yours-” His chest expands with pride at the thought, only for his breath to leave his lungs as he realizes the truth. 

            The babe could be his, and if it came out looking like him you would be hung or beheaded. This Targaryen could kill you.

Will the baby be Targaryen??????? Tune in for Part 2 

[assortedseaglass]

Borne & Bound - VI

[Masterlist]

Aemond Targaryen x OFC

(Mr Darcy!Aemond x Shieldmaiden!OFC)

Story Content: (This chapter in bold): Strong Language, Violence, Slow Burn, Smut, Canon-typical Sexism, Mentions of Incest¸ Mentions of Sexual Assault

Word Count: 6.6K

Notes: So, it’s been a few months…highly recommend reading the last chapter because I imagine everyone’s forgotten the plot. I nearly had.

I am so out of practice and this is not my finest – I read work of my friends here and marvel at the talent they possess. That you indulge my writing is a real honour, and reading your words is no longer intimidating but inspiring.

This was written for me to get back into the swing of things, and whether one or one hundred people read it, I am happy to be back.

The cold whipped Aemond’s face, harsh and blistering. Ice from the gathering storms clouds nicked his marble skin and the burn of the exposed air on his flesh hummed.

Any trace of anger, of anxiety or of rage had faded away. Amongst the clouds, high above the city, Aemond was utterly free. Free from what, he wasn’t entirely sure, but as he flew atop Vhagar’s scaled back he felt a peace the like of which he had never known.

For what felt like hours, the pair tumbled through dense cloud and bright sunburst in one endless day of freedom. He had no sense of duty, no eagerness to return to the Keep, no burden of family. Even Vhagar beneath him felt light and somehow far away. Still, she held him aloft in the sky, the steady beat of her wings taking them on, on, on.

After hours, or what could have been days, Vhagar descended below the clouds, and King’s Landing came into view. Beneath them, the waxy leaves of the Kingswood’s canopy gleamed. Aemond could just make out the world waking; the flight of birds from the trees, fires smoking from the townsfolks’ homes, a few traders making their way into the world to collect and sell their wares.

A lone rider cut a steady path along the woodland’s edge. Aemond watched a while as Vhagar’s enormous shadow followed behind them. The mane of the black horse rippled as it galloped, and even from Aemond’s position high in the sky, he could hear the thunder of its hooves.

Then, a great bell-like laugh rose into the air, pealing all around Aemond. Just as he felt, the sound was free. It warmed the very heart of him. On and on the gleeful rider laughed and Aemond found himself smiling in spite of himself. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and beneath him, he felt Vhagar murmur too. With a gentle roll of her body, the great she-dragon leant into the wind and Aemond saw the black horse’s rider at last.

Strands of dark hair billowed in the wind, as did robes of burgundy, bronze and deepest blue. As he was with Vhagar, the rider was effortlessly attuned to their steed, moving gracefully across every furrow of the land. Another tinkle of laughter took flight into the air and Aemond leant forwards over Vhagar’s side. He reached out, as if trying to touch the rider. Vhagar’s flight was dangerously close to the ground now, and just as Aemond’s leather-covered fingertips skirted the edge of the rider’s robes, they turned over their shoulder to look up at him.

Her bonny face was flushed red, mud spattered across her cheeks, no doubt kicked up from the hooves of the immense horse. The dark hair that so exquisitely matched that of her steed still whipped about her face, but through it Aemond could make out the brilliant flash of a smile. Mischievous, wicked, taunting.

It was as though she had sunk her teeth into him with that smile. At once, the heat that filled his veins turned to ice. Vhagar’s great bulk vanished beneath him, and he fell, watching the girl laughing at him as he disappeared through the earth.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Aemond barely heard the maid’s timid voice as he sat bolt upright in his bed. The girl stood by the windows of the chamber, a plate of fresh fruit in her hands, watching him.

Unruly blond hair swept in long strands in front of darkened his face. His naked chest, muscular and coated in a sheen of sweat, rose and fell heavily as he regained his ragged breath. One eye, unblinking and icy, stared forward, bright beneath his angry brow. The absence of the other made her shiver. She placed the plate of fruit on a table beside the window and stepped forward.

Aemond still did nothing but stare ahead of him. The gossamer curtains shrouding his bed rippled gently in the breeze from the open window. He looked straight through them, remembering the black hair of the horsemaiden and her steed.

“Your Grace?” The girl said again. A nightmare. She’d woken him from a nightmare, that was all. Or perhaps a dream. Maybe that was why he was angry. “I’ve brought breakfast, Your Grace.”

“Get out.”

Her steps faltered. Through the sweep of golden hair and fluttering fabric, she barely heard him.

“Pardon, Your Grace?” Her voice quavered, fear creeping into the words. Prince Aemond was a haunting man, that was true. The way he appeared like a spectre, his leathered boots having made no sound on the stone floors of the Keep. His unfeeling eyes, ever watching and unblinking. She had heard rumour of his fits of anger at the other servants. Still, in the ten months she had worked at the Keep, bringing food to him in the morning and lighting the fires, he had never raised his voice at her. Not yet at least.

Aemond’s hand balled into fists, the sheet beneath him crumpling. The girl stepped back. He was shaking. “Get. Out.”

“My Prince-”

“GET OUT!” The dragon within fired into life. Aemond stood abruptly, tearing at the bed’s curtains as he did so. With a squeal, and averting her eyes from the Prince’s near naked form, the maid tore from the room.

From beyond his chamber door, Aemond could hear her hurried footsteps and the shocked gasps of the Keep’s early risers.  He was used it. On any other day, they did it to his face. Storming across the room, he dressed hurriedly in his riding leathers, shoved his eyepatch aggressively over his head and made to leave the room.

How dare she, the shit-shovelling little horse-wench. From the moment she arrived he’d known nothing but her condescension and disdain. Now, even in dreams, he couldn’t escape her.

Smoothing his hair beneath the leather, Aemond passed by his dresser, pocketing his dagger in its sheath at his belt and donning his great coat. Then, struck by the stranger staring back at him from the mirror, he paused.

Wisps of blond hair stuck out from his head like spun sugar. The skin around his brow was pink from where he’d roughly donned is eyepatch. The eye that stared back at him was wild, dark despite its violet hue and ringed by purple. The usual glow of his marble skin was gone, replaced by a dull grey. Even in dreams, he couldn’t escape her. He leant against the wood and inhaled deeply.

What in the seven hells had caused this great animosity? She wasn’t the first person to mock him, nor would she be the last. And he’d met plenty a noble from far off lands as they passed through the kingdom, never to be seen again. True, he had been less than welcoming. But hadn’t he tried? Asked about her kingdom, taken her letter to the rookery. He sighed. His efforts were less than poor.

Again he smoothed his hair and straightened. After his ride with Vhagar he would, once more, try to make amends. Besides, what better way to get the upper hand of the Braedel girl than with cordial superiority. The day was set. A smirk tugging at his lips, he left his chambers and the night’s awful dream behind.

He should have known better. Were the week’s recent events not proof that while the Keep was upside down with the council and its attendees, his plans would always be dashed. No sooner had he turned left from his chambers did the young prince encounter a small Braedel delegation. A few of the calvary’s riders, and none other than the enormous Ser Herumbrand.

The knight bowed slowly to the prince, as did the other Braedels, and allowed Aemond to pass. It was as they passed each other that Herumbrand and Aemond locked eyes. The knight’s mouth did not move, but something in the twinkle of his grey eyes told Aemond that deep down he was smiling.

“She had you ratted there, son.”

Herumbrand’s last words to Aemond instantly ran through his mind. As did the humiliation of his spar with the woman from his dream.

“Ser.” Aemond said flatly, turning on his booted heel to face the knight.

“Your Grace?” The three Braedels halted and watched the prince.

“Lady Geowyth, where is she?” Best to avoid her until he had a sure plan of action that would not result in further hostility.

Ser Herumbrand waited a moment before answering. He seemed to be assessing the man before him. Aemond let him, his eye never wavering.

“With her brother, I believe, as he prepares to return to Braedel.”

A flicker of annoyance befell Aemond’s eye. “Forgive me, Ser.” He took a step forward. “‘As he prepares to return?’”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Herumbrand smiled broadly. “Lord Geodred will return to Braedel for his wedding. Lady Geowyth is to stay as the Princess’ lady-in-waiting for a time.”

With nought but a rumbled hmph, Aemond turned on his heel and stormed down the corridor. Maids and grooms parted with bowed heads at his coming and he ignored each one. Beyond the Keep the skies were blackening. He would ride Vhagar later. Deep with in the chasm of his chest he felt her settle towards slumber. She knew he would come for her by day’s end. Flying through the storm clouds was what she loved best. Better to let the clouds gather so they could really relish their time together.

Instead of making his way to Vhagar’s rocky outcrop as he had planned, Aemond treaded the well-worn stone towards the training yard, every step remembering the parries and attacks Geowyth dealt him during their spar. The way she exhausted herself trying to prove she could keep up with him, a man. He could almost feel the gentle press of the dagger she’d held at his ribs, and see the self-satisfied smile she wore when he realised its presence. And now she was to stay.

There could only be one person so scheming. Only one whose machinations would permit the young horse-maid to stay. And so it was that Aemond, on his way to sharpen his swordsmanship, burst through the ornate oaken doors that led to the queen’s ballroom.

“MOTHER!”

On the other side of the Keep, in the guest quarters, Geowyth watched with undisguised agitation as her brother and a few groomsmen packed his belongings into various trunks and bags.

From her position on the bed, she could see that he was anxious to get back to Braedel, and just as anxious to leave.

“I don’t see why you must go so soon if eam (uncle) is not so unwell. Did you not say that if he were, you would send for me? Why not take me with you?”

Geodred sighed, not looking at her as he tidied away the small writing desk covered with his studies of the mainland. “Don’t be childish.”

“I’m not being child-”

“Then trust me and stop with your pettiness,” Geowyth huffed and he ignored her. “He isn’t so unwell. Not more than when we left him, and I will send for you the moment he so much as coughs. But I am to be married, remember sweostor (sister). I may not be a husband yet, but I owe it to Folchild to prove what kind of man I will be. Thus far she has been stuck on Braedel with a sickly cynge (king), a fussing mother and a conniving father, all the while preparing singlehandedly for our marriage.”

Damn him for being so kind-hearted, Geowyth thought. Still, she couldn’t help digging in her heels and making him feel her annoyance at his abandonment. He was her brother after all.

“I wonder what sort of wife Folchild will be?” she said innocently. Geodred hummed to signify that even if his hands were busy, he was indeed listening. “When she first came to Braedel I, like you, was dazzled by her beauty. But what have we learnt of her since then?”

“I have learnt a great deal,”

She ignored him. “I cannot claim that I know her as a sister well enough to give my good opinion, but she makes you happy and that I suppose will have to do.”

“Geowyth,”

“Do you know, eam’s last letter said she has become more reserved with every visit to Braedel since we came here. No doubt your arrival home will cheer her. I’ve seen the way the women here look at you, maeg (brother). You should have come to the mainland to find a wife first. Imagine the noble ladies you could have claimed! I’ve seen even the queen giving you the once over when she thinks no-one is looking-”

“Geowyth,” Geodred said warningly.

“You could have inherited another title! Instead you get, as you say, a fussing mother-in-law and a conniving new father. No doubt he heard of eam’s ill health and descended on him like a vulture, throwing the only thing that Stanas Isle has of worth at you; Folchild herself.”

Geodred suddenly dropped the volumes of books in his hands upon the desk and interrupted her at last. In three silent strides he was at the chamber door, whispering something to one of the Keep’s servants. When he said nothing, Geowyth continued. She knew he was getting annoyed at her now, yet she couldn’t help it. It was like scratching an itch.

“And now you are to leave me here,” she said dramatically, disguising the fact that she was still hurt by this. “Drop your duty to the kingdom for duty of another kind.”

“Duty is duty, sweostor,” How could he still be so composed?

“If you say so. But I was under the impression we were sent here to make alliances and do right by Braedel. Instead, you are hurrying home so you may put your end in as soon as possi-”

“ENOUGH!” Geodred slammed his hand on the wooden poster of the bed. Geowyth flinched. “Enough.” He ran a hand over his handsome face and looked down at her. “I have done my duty here. I have impressed the king and, more importantly, the queen, for we know full well it is she running the order of things. I have made friends with the princes and demonstrated the value of our considerable calvary. And now I must return to strengthen other alliances.”

Geowyth opened her mouth to retort.

“Yes, Geowyth. I am well aware that my marriage to Folchild is to strengthen bonds with Stanas Isle and keep her father on our side. But have you stopped to think that perhaps I may love her too? Have you stopped to think at all?”

“Geodred, I-”

“If you spent your mornings with the other visiting young ladies, rather than gallivanting with Mearl, which you can do any day at home, you might understand. If you listened and learnt from our hosts rather than stirring up gossip as you did at the feast, you might understand. If you stopped of flirting with the princes and making a fool of yourself in the training yard-”

“I am not flirting!” Geowyth shouted, feeling flushed and sick in equal measure.

“-THEN YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND!” Geodred roared over her. “You are staying here because eam sees that you are a liability to our kingdom.”

Geowyth flinched like he had struck her. She needed to hear it while she was hurt, there was no other way.

“You have charmed the princess, true, but you have ruffled feathers also. How in the name of all above and below do you expect to command the renward (cavalry) when I am king? How can you expect us to trust you?” Geowyth’s eyes were watering an Geodred’s heart broke. With a shaking voice he continued. “You are hot-headed, quick to temper and to judge. We would be at war the moment you struck out on your first charge. You must learn! And staying at the keep will ensure this.”

“Geodred, please-”

“I mean it, Geowyth. The day that eam passes is growing ever closer, and I cannot afford to have such a wayward leader take my place. It is about time you realised your duty.”

“Lord Geodred,” Geodred’s head snapped to the door. Ser Herumbrand loomed in the doorway, bedecked in ceremonial battle dress. “The horses are ready.”

Geodred nodded. Herumbrand cast his eyes over the siblings. Geodred, red-faced, a little tiredness eking onto his face. Geowyth knelt on the bed with her head bowed, her face hidden by her curtain of hair but not containing her sniffles. Herumbrand left the pair as Geodred places both his hands on his sister’s shoulders.

“Come, we are away.”

“Stand up straight,”

“I am,”

“Straighter then. Our guests, your guests-”

“Father’s guests.”

“-our guests our leaving.” For the second time that week, Aemond stood on the barbican steps in the heat of the afternoon, listening to his mother and brother bicker.

All the royal family were in attendance this time. His mother, beautiful in the green of her house, auburn hair dancing in the gentle breeze, stood proud at the centre of the steps, watching with interest as the Braedel cavalry jostled with excitement; the horses eager to be on the road, their riders ready for home. Aegon looked surprisingly clean and well slept. The dark circles around his eyes were still present, and it was clear to all that he was still drunk from the night before, but he looked handsome nonetheless. Like their mother, he wore green, though darker than hers, and Aemond thought that while he might not quite pass for a prince of the realm, there was no denying his nobility.

Aemond tried not to look at his father. A crumpled heap of cloth and sallow skin had been propped up in a chair beside the eldest prince. His mouth hung open slightly, the gold mask covering his face flashing in the sun and agitating some of the horses. He could barely hold his head up to look his guests in the eye.

Only Helaena was not stood with them. The best of them, she had ventured into the crowd of warrior men and women to stand at Lady Geowyth’s side. Ser Herumbrand and a few older members of the renward watched with jovial smiles as Geowyth introduced the princess to her immense horse.

Aemond stilled with taut anticipation as Lady Geowyth took Helaena’s hand and moved it to the horse’s thick neck. Beside him, his mother shuffled on her feet. Both watched nervously. Helaena’s head was turned awkwardly away from the animal, as though trying to put some distance between herself and the horse. Lady Geowyth brushed her own dark hair from her face and whispered in Helaena’s ear. She looked just the same as when Aemond first saw her. Dark hair long and unkempt, amber eyes watchful. Her face too was just as flushed, though Aemond had put that down to her long days’ ride. Today, her cheeks were blotchy, as though she’d been crying.

It would take a fool not to see how she and Helaena complimented each other; Helaena in her light blue and gold silks, Geowyth in her dark blue and burgundy velvet. Helaena’s golden hair and Geowyth’s black. Helaena flighty and faraway, Geowyth earth-bound. When Helaena still retreated from Geowyth’s mount, the shieldmaiden took her hand and gently placed a kiss on it, murmuring something once more. Even from where he stood, Aemond could see that a small smile was playing upon Helaena’s face. Nodding at whatever Geowyth had said, Helaena allowed her to move her hand back towards the horse’s muscled neck and run it along the smooth hair there.

Aemond heard his mother exhale. He turned is good eye towards her and she smiled, proud and relieved. The corners of his mouth twitched and he turned back to the women. Geowyth had produced a shining red apple from her skirt pocket and given it to the princess. Helaena tentatively held it up for Mearl to sniff. When his bristled nose brushed her hand, Helaena giggled, and even jumped a little with glee when he began to eat it.

If it pleased his sister, Aemond supposed there was at least one good reason for Lady Geowyth to stay.

“Geowyth, astandan (come).” Geodred was standing before the king and called his sister back to her temporary position in the royal household.

“Helaena,” Alicent called gently. The two came at once. Helaena near gliding across the barbican, Geowyth following dutifully in her wake. Her role as lady-in-waiting had begun. She bowed before the king and queen when she reached the steps upon which they stood, then settled behind Helaena, now nestled between her brothers. All in the barbican and on the steps watched as Geodred approached the royals, Ser Herumbrand a step behind him.

A ripple of pride ran through the renward when their leader dropped to his knees before Viserys, so that the king may look upon him. Taking is frail hand, Geodred kissed his knuckles then covered it with his own.

“My King,” he began gently so only those closest to him could hear. “A thousand thanks for your hospitality this last week, and a thousand more for your council. I have learnt more than you can know. I shan’t forget this kindness.”

At his words, Viserys leant forward. A small gasp escaped Alicent’s lips and Ser Harrold stepped forward, ready to catch the king should he fall. Viserys raised a hand to quell them, and Geodred bowed his head closer to the king’s. This time, none could hear the whisper that passed between them, but when the king was finished, Geodred stood and bowed his head. Herumbrand followed suit, then clasped the hand of Ser Harrold in friendship.

The rest of Geodred’s goodbyes were easy. The queen beamed at him as he made his farewells and thanked her for allowing his sister to stay. All looked at Geowyth, but still her head was reverently bowed. After bowing to Aegon, Geodred patted the prince on the shoulder jovially. Heir to heir, young man to young man.

His deepest bow was bestowed upon Helaena. “Good princess, I shall not speak for my sister, but will say this. I am certain your friendship will do more for our kingdom than our cavalry or your protection.” Watching her eyes to make sure she understood, Geodred took her hand in his. He did not kiss it but held it a mere moment before letting go.

“Prince Aemond,” Geodred nodded and Geowyth, glancing up, noticed that Aemond did the same. He was the only who had. “My deepest thanks for your tutelage. Were it not for your direction, I would not have known where to begin. I only wish I could know more-”

Aemond hummed in gratitude. A warm, gentle noise. Helaena turned to look happily at her little brother, and Geowyth wondered if this sweet sound was usually reserved just for her.

“-and if you ever want to try your tongue at Braehic, or find yourself flying west, please do visit. We have plenty of land for your Vhagar, and livestock too.”

“Thank you, Ser.” Aemond held out his gloved hand and, without hesitation or worry for etiquette, Geodred grasped it in his with a broad smile. It was only then, when he’d addressed all the royals, did Geodred make his way back along the line. Helaena had already stepped sideways towards her brother-husband to reveal Geowyth.

She was looking up now, waiting for him to address her. She was the lady-in-waiting of a princess, and he a visitor of the family. In this setting he was no longer just her brother. He outranked her, and then some. Geodred sighed and stepped forward. Helaena turned away, pushing Aegon towards their parents. Aemond too bowed his head, but he could’t help but listen.

When Geodred took Geowyth’s hands, it was only then she felt able to speak.

“What did the king say?” Her voice was hoarse and quiet.

“I cannot tell,” he said solemnly, looking at her hawk-like eyes. They were not so bright as usual, their argument having dulled their colour. Pain welled in his chest and he took her face in his hands. It was just them now. Geowyth, he and their uncle Galan.

“I sorry, Geowyth,” he whispered. Aemond’s ears pricked with intrigue.

“You were right to say it,” Geowyth whispered, her voice wobbling. Say what? Geodred sighed again.

“Beon til, beon waeren (be good, be dutiful). I will send for you when the time comes.” Geowyth nodded fervently as she attempted to keep her tears at bay. “Deos forhtlic (who’s afraid)?” Geodred brought his forehead to his sister’s.

“Not I,” she said firmly. They paused a moment, their foreheads pressed together, savouring the feeling. This was the moment everything would change. Their next meeting would be the dawn of Galan’s death, and Geodred’s ascension. Who would take from them this last moment of normality?

With a swift kiss of his sister’s cheek, Geodred hurried down the steps towards his mount. Hurried, so he didn’t change his mind and drag her back to Braedel with him. Aemond watched as Ser Herumbrand fleetingly placed his forehead against Geowyth’s too. It was surely some Braedel tradition. He imagined pressing his forehead to Ser Harrold’s. He let out a sharp laugh and all but his father looked at him.

“Renward,” Geowyth called from atop his mount. Ser Herumbrand mounted his own horse beside him and placed the helmet adorned with horsehair atop is head. Just as when they had arrived, the Braedel cavalry displayed their kinship with the horses that gave them their name. This time though, Aemond did not scoff. Owing to his growing fondness of Lord Geodred, he found it admirable of the small island kingdom. Just as Geodred tired to learn about the ways of the mainland, Aemond found himself wanting to know more about Braedel.

A great clatter of metal and horses’ hooves echoed across the stone walls of the barbican; the delegation from Braedel had begun their slow journey home. At Aemond’s side, Helaena shuffled to stand beside Geowyth, holding her hand tightly. Tears were gathering in Geowyth’s eyes, her jaw set as her lips trembled.

It was as Aemond looked from Helaena and Geowyth’s entwined hands to the latter’s eyes that she looked at him. Wild and childlike in her sadness, the amber of them shocked him, as they had done the first time he saw her. He looked away quickly and instead caught the eye of his mother. She smiled knowingly and he tutted.

“Geowyth,” Helaena’s sweet voice was tender with concern. “You may have today as your own. Go, now.”

Geowyth hesitated. She cast her eyes towards her retreating house then, at Helaena’s insistence, curtsied to the royal family and made her way up the steps and into the comfort of the Keep.

“Aemond.” It was Helaena, speaking lowly to him.

“Helaena,” he smiled softly at her.

“I think you should have the day as your own too. You have not been of sorts. Perhaps the three of us could ride later?” Aegon looked briefly over his sister-wife’s head at his brother and shrugged noncommittally.

“If you insist,”

“I do,” Helaena smiled as the rest of the royal household made their way inside, the thunder of the calvary now a mere rumble.

Peace at last.

Aemond daredn’t say no to Helaena, certainly not when she had commanded him to take the day as his own. Not even their mother could refuse. She was so frequently flustered by her daughter’s odd pronouncements that she found saying anything to her a difficulty.

Still flushed with happiness at Geodred’s assessment for him, Aemond strode through the Keep with renewed vigour. After Helaena, the relative stranger from Braedel was the only person to see him as he felt. As he was.

Buoyed by the praise, Aemond made for one of the Keep’s many libraries. There were plenty to choose from. The large one favoured by his father, full of old tales and dusty tomes. The bright and airy one that his mother and sister frequented in the royal apartments. The myriad of others scattered across different floors and corridors. Today, before heading towards the outskirts of the city where Vhagar rested, Aemond made his solitary way towards his favourite since he was a boy. Where he came to hide from his brother and nephews after a day of merciless teasing.

Tucked between White Sword Tower and the goldcloaks’ barracks, the small study that was Aemond’s preference looked out over Blackwater Bay. It was midday now and Aemond imagined the water lapping at the city’s walls below the window he favoured sitting in.

No-one else came here. Not the white or goldcloaks as they were always too busy. His family stayed in the royal apartments and guests had their own library in the west of the Keep. It would be silent except for the gulls over the bay and the breeze through the window. Trays of confectionary will have been restocked by the maids, the windows opened to air the old books, golden light flowing in from the sun beyond. All Aemond needed to relax. It was also one of the few libraries he had not looked for knowledge of Braedel. Perhaps one of the guards had family from the small island and kept volumes of its history in there as a nostalgic reminder of home. Or maybe a Maester had produced a long-forgotten biography of the kingdom that no-one thought of interest enough to keep in the main library’s stores.

Whatever the reason he had not checked, Aemond all but bounded (as much as princes are allowed to bound) towards the small door at the top of the ill-used spiral staircase. A few goldcloaks bowed to him as he passed and, feeling that normality had returned to the Keep, Aemond threw open the door to his secret hideaway.

A chair screeched across the stone floor and clattered to the ground with a loud thunk.

The curtains were indeed open. The confectionary had been refilled, and Aemond could see that beyond the window seagulls were soaring and the water glistened. But before the window, in what would have been his usual seat, stood Lady Geowyth.

Her eyes were wide with shock but rimmed with red and shining brightly. She’d been crying. She stood frozen for a while, a mixture of horror and shame playing across her pale face.

A flash of recognition lit behind Aemond’s eye. He had seen this expression before. Minus the tears, she had looked just the same when she startled him in the royal library. The repetition of this event made him chuckle, almost imperceptibly. The noise seemed to remind Geowyth of where she was, and she hastily dropped into a low curtsey.

“Your Grace.” Aemond watched as she wiped her face with her sleeve and turned to the window. The chair she was sat in had overturned in her shock, and she bent to pick it up. Aemond’s eye followed the swoop of her frizzy hair as it fell towards the floor. The action exposed the back of her neck, and the midday sun on her pale skin glowed. It was almost Targaryen in its brilliance. He cleared his throat and moved forward awkwardly.

“Let me,” he reached one hand out for the chair and swiftly righted it. He was certain she could have done it herself, and he was still unsure of his feelings towards her. Whether indifference, curiosity or dislike, he had been raised a prince. Decorum, chivalry and honour above all.

Geowyth sniffled a quiet “thank you” and picked up the book upon the windowsill. Aemond read the spine. Philosophies on the Flora and Fauna of the Crownlands.

“This is one of Helaena’s favourites,” His voice was a little flat, a little stunted, but it was a start.

“Yes,” Geowyth sniffed again. “Forgive me,” and she wiped her nose once more. Aemond looked away. How are you meant offer comfort but also give privacy? His mind raced and he tried to think of what to say. The wrong thing might ignite her sarcasm, as anything he uttered seem to do. He might even offend her, as he had done on occasion. And he certainly didn’t want to make her cry more, what on earth would he do then?

As Aemond fretted over his next move, Geowyth watched him. Through her tear-blurred eyes, she watched him awkwardly look around at the books. He had removed his leather gloves, and they creaked as he wrung them behind his back. The eye that so often piercingly surveyed her was almost purple in the sunlight, and softer that she had ever seen it. After their last encounter in the training yard, Geowyth half expected Aemond to want her head. In his stead, she found a somewhat lost and, dare she say it, shy young prince.

“Here,” his voice broke her from her thoughts. Aemond’s pale hand took another book from the shelves and handed it to her cautiously, as though she would bite if he moved too fast. Geowyth looked down at the book’s green cover. Gold leaves were embossed on the fabric and she ran her hand over it.

“Eseld’s Apohtic,” Geowyth said lowly.

“It’s another of Helaena’s favourites.” His tone was blunt, but not so cold as how he usually spoke to her. Geowyth looked at him. He was watching her intently, eye shifting occasionally as though embarrassed.

“Thank you,” though Geowyth’s voice was still small from crying, something of herself began to return. She took the two books in hand, sniffled once more and then stood to her full height. Enough of this wallowing. She looked back to Aemond. “I’ll leave you know, Your Grace. It is clear you were hoping to find this study unoccupied.”

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, faltered, then shut it again. Offering a small smile, Geowyth curtsied and made for the door. As she passed him, Aemond caught the scent of pine and rosemary in her hair and, just as she reached the door, he spoke.

“My lady,” his voice was desperate and he cringed. Geowyth half turned to face him, and he could see just how flushed she had become from crying as the windowlight hit her face.

“Your Grace?” Despite her sadness, and the unhidden resentment the two shared for each other, something about her calm patience as he fumbled with politeness soothed him. Suddenly, he saw a glimmer of what Helaena so loved about her.

“I came here in search of books on Braedel. It is one of the few places I hadn’t looked-”

A smirk quirked the lady’s lips. “You have been looking?”

Damn. “Your brother talked so highly of home, and I cannot deny your language and customs intrigue me,” he flushed. How common of him to admit to something so indecent as curiosity. “I thought, perhaps, well. I would like to learn more.”

Geowyth watched him a moment, and Aemond wracked his brain for what he could have possibly said to offend her.

“All you have to do is ask, Your Grace.”

Aemond’s eye flickered to Geowyth’s. Mirth, or maybe even kindness, was shining in them now. He swallowed. It was the expression she had worn in his dream.

“But if you are so determined to learn from your books,” she pointed to a shelf by the unlit hearth. “May I recommend Grennan’s Compendium of Republic Realms? I believe my uncle wrote the introduction-” Geowyth’s voice tailed away. She had suddenly remembered the missive her uncle wrote the day before.

“The heir apparent you say is a wastrel but bonny fellow, and Geodred tells me that Prince Aemond has been giving him private tutelage in mainland history. List me two more of their virtues with your next letter.”

She looked at the books around her, the one Aemond now reached for and the two in her hand. Helaena’s favourites. “You care for Helaena very much.”

Aemond looked at her curiously. “Yes,” he said, as though it were obvious. “Only a little more than you, I dare say,” he added with sarcasm.

Geowyth laughed that hearty laugh she shared with her brother. Aemond’s breath caught in his throat; he had almost smiled at the sound.

“I doubt even one so plainly open as I could care for someone the way you care for her.”

Aemond clasped his hands behind his back and smirked. “Perhaps it is the one thing we have in common.” He watched as Geowyth relaxed against the door. This isn’t too difficult, he thought. Perhaps he possessed some of his family’s charm after all.

“Helaena and sparring, how contrary we are.” Geowyth too could hardly believe the ease their conversation had found. This gentle teasing and care of his family; maybe she had misjudged him.

“I would hardly call it sparring,” Aemond said, his tone more confident now. “Batting your lashes and holding a dagger to my ribs? That move has been used more often in the street of silk than it has in the training yard.”

A potent silence fell between them.

Aemond knew at once he had said the wrong thing. Geowyth’s eagle eyes hardened and an electricity seemed to bristle around her.

“Well, I maybe be as common as a whore in your eyes, Your Grace,” she spat his title viciously as she whipped her dark hair over her shoulder and opened the door. “But last we met it was you who was flat on their back.” No sooner had Aemond begun to retort had the study door slammed, Geowyth’s angry footsteps echoing down the staircase beyond.

“She had you ratted there, son.”

Aemond ripped of his eyepatch and jammed his hands into his eyes with an angry growl. Throwing Grennan’s Compendium of Republic Realms across the study, Aemond too strode from the study, not caring whether he encountered the lady on the stairs. He’d push her down the rest of them for all he cared.

Hours later, as he and Vhagar flew above the Crownlands, Aemond watched a lone stallion thundering across its grassy plains. Air-borne and earth-bound, the riders rode their mounts ferociously, testing them to their limits. It was as Aemond and Vhagar tumbled from the sky, flying perilously, exhilaratingly, exquisitely close to the ground, did the rider look up at him. With fierce determination, Lady Geowyth kicked her heels at Mearl’s side and tore away from the dragon.

From high above them, sat upon a rocky ridge, Helaena and Dreamfyre watched.

Note: The next chapter will have Sexual TensionTM, I promise!

Tags: @arcielee @mefools @bladeofdreadfort @glitterandgoldfinds @heimtathurs @ewanmitchellcrumbs @babyblue711 @wingeddeliciouscanonrebel @greenowlfactif @fantasias-creativebubble @httyd-marauders @sirenangelroyal* @theoneeyedprince @fyeahhotdfics* @persephonerinyes @humanpurposes @exitpursuedbyavulcan @elizarbell @el-is-green @booghostii @myfandomprompts @castellomargot @trashcanrat @boundlessfantasy @aemonds-fire @barbieaemond @bookwyrmsblog @herfantasyworldd @unheardnerd @targaryenrealnessdarling @chattylurker

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[anotherdragon]

you know, I was thinking earlier.

At first I was thinking about how desensitized the residents of Hatchetfield are to death and dissapearances. Grace said it herself: "This is Hatchetfield. People Go missing every day!" And you see it, too: how Max going missing and Richies death almost seems like an afterthought; and its played off as a joke, as 'oh haha look they care more about some football game than a kid going missing' but it really gets sadder if you think about it? Like imagine knowing that any day you or a family member or one of your closest friends could go missing at any time, and just needing to...except that. And it would explain Pete's admittedly little to no reaction to Richie and Ruth's deaths, while he still might be upset over it, he came to terms with that possibility years ago. everyone did. always at the back of each residents mind, that today it was a stranger, a name you wouldn't even remember an hour from now, but tomorow? It could be you. It could be someone you love.

And then i got thinking a bit more: we see a lot of shit like this throughout Hatchetfield (while its probably for the sake of keeping the episodes seperate, im pretty sure nmt2 all takes place in the same timeline, and like. Thirty people are mentioned to have died in Killer Track??? The honey queens go missing every year[well, leave town the day they went missing and never contact anyone in hatchetfield ever again but you have to admit thats suspicious] People just. going missing at Abstinence Camp and no one looking into it???) but all that aside. What I cant wrap my head around is 'Hatchet Town'. the entire song is about the citizens of hatchetfield getting paranoid and pointing fingers and in general getting aggressive over the murder of two teens. But??? 'By Best Of You' everyones just. stopped caring. Shapiro can be explained away a bit by her seeing Max, but with the killing of three teenagers, the mayors secretary and the 'disappearance' of the mayor any normal school would probably. Cancel homecoming. (I could probably also go into a whole thing about how the specific way richie was killed and the MESSAGE WRITTEN IN HIS BLOOD point towards the killer being a student. which you would really think would lead to the canceling of an event like this). And they just??? Decide to still hold the event??? (which is even funnier knowing that ANOTHER STUDENT GETS KILLED AT HOMECOMING)

So uh. Not even sure what the point of this post is anymore. I refuted my own post and then refuted that. Now im just confused. What The Fuck Is Going On In Hatchetfield. Why did all the residents of hatchetfield fucking swing to the other extreme for three minutes and fourty seconds. huh.

[lorilane33]

Midnight Musings

Pairing: Echo x Reader

A/N: I think I should start a bingo card for myself with all this fandom hopping I'm doing lol Star Wars is my current hyper fixation, and one special copy paste boy had my soul in his hands.

Summary: You wake up to find Echo not in bed.

Word Count: 1,098

Warnings: This is truly the saddest thing I've ever written, which isn't saying much. But Echo has been to hell and back, and he needs all the hugs in the entire universe. So this was my self indulgent self doing just that.

In a quiet bungalow somewhere on lower Pabu, something suddenly pulls you from the pleasant dream you were having. In the bed you share with Echo, something didn’t feel quite right, but you couldn’t place what it was.

You huff, mildly annoyed at the inconvenience of being pulled from sleep and snuggle deeper into the blankets in hopes of finding sleep again. 

You sleepily reach behind you in hopes of Echo being able to hold you until you fall asleep again, only to find the sheets cold. “...Echo?” you mumble, sleep thick in your voice. Less sleepy than you were mere seconds ago, you now understand what had pulled you from your sleep. 

Your boyfriend was not where he needed to be, and you had a feeling you knew just where to find him. Pushing the covers off yourself, you swing your feet over the edge, sliding until your feet gently hit the floor. 

You start your journey out of your shared bedroom and into the living space, leaning against the doorway. Looking around for his familiar bald head, you find him sitting at the table, head resting in his good hand.

From what you can see, he’s glaring down at his scomp link that rests in his lap. “Honey, are you alright?” you whisper. Some nights Echo had a hard time with nightmares or sometimes it was his survivor’s guilt that did him in. 

In the light of the moon, Echo looks up at you, a shimmer of regret in his eyes as he responds, “I’m sorry, cyare. Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.” A sad smile lifts at the corner of your mouth as you pad towards him. 

“It’s okay, really Echo. I woke up and you were gone so I thought I’d come find you.” Reaching the table, you place your hands on his shoulders to gently pull him back into a sitting position. “What was it this time, my love? A nightmare again?” 

He sighs and reaches his hand up to hold yours that sits on his shoulder, then shakes his head no. “No, mesh’la. Not this time.” 

Leaning forward you place a kiss to the top of his head. “Then if not a nightmare, what is keeping you awake at this hour, hmm? And if you think of fibbing to me and saying it’s nothing, then you will indeed have another problem to reckon with,” you respond, almost whispering the words into the top of his head where your lips remain. 

You hear him chuckle tiredly at your sass, the sound of his laughter lifting your spirits a little. Breaking the hold of his hand on yours, you slide your hands over his torso, stopping at the chest plate that sits atop his sternum. You feel him sigh, simultaneously in relief and in resignation at your touch. 

“Alright, fine.” The low cadence of his voice soothes you, as you hold him from behind. He reaches his good hand back up to lay over yours again, and you smile into his neck as he answers your question. 

“Cyare, it’s just…I don’t…,” he sighs, struggling putting his feelings into words. “I miss Fives, so kriffing much. The rest of the Domino Squad too, but Fives and I were brothers by choice. The two of us had been together since Kamino. Having to carry on now? Knowing he doesn’t get to? It hurts.”

You feel him shudder in your arms as speaking becomes too much for him, your arms instinctively pulling him closer into your arms. Heart breaking for this beautiful man, you softly respond, “I know you wish you could bring them back, and if it were possible, I’d do it for you in a second.” 

Stepping back, you keep one of your hands clasped tightly in his as you slowly slip around his shoulder to face him. Dropping to your knees, you reach up to caress his face with your free hand. When a tear falls from his amber eyes, you lightly brush it away with a swipe of your thumb. 

You squeeze his hand before continuing, “But I do know that wherever they are, they are so kriffing proud of you, Echo. You may have the scars and some metal parts to contend with now, but you survived. And are all the stronger for it. Your resilience and quiet strength are a couple of the millions of reasons why I have fallen in love with you.” 

A small smile graces your lips as you drop his good hand and gently pick up his scomp link still sitting in his lap. “This old scomp link? Is proof to me every day that you survived and are here with me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, Echo. And if you need me to remind you every kriffing day that I love you, and that I’m not going anywhere, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.” Lifting it to your lips, you place a gentle kiss against his scomp while retaining eye contact with him. 

His bottom lip quivers, and his eyes blink slowly. You can see the emotions churning below the surface of his beautiful face. Then, you are suddenly yanked up into his lap and into his embrace as he holds you close. 

You place one arm around his neck, pulling yourself level with him. His response is a rumble of emotion, “Thank you, my love. You always know exactly what to say to me to make me feel better. I’m sorry you have to-”

“Ah!” you suddenly place a hand over his mouth. “If I hear another apology out of your mouth, good sir, then I'll have to punch you. And I’d really hate to have to do that, Echo.” A grin breaks out on your face, as you make eye contact with him. 

He looks emotionally drained, but graces you with one of his genuine smiles as you lean forward and place a kiss against his headset. As soon as you move your head away from him, you feel him turn his head and pull you in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You’re not wrong, cyar’ika. I’d hate to have you get violent. Your punches hurt.” He chuckles, and you feel it tingle on your lips. “And for the record? I love you too. Thank you for being so understanding.”

He kisses you again, pulling you close. The two of you continue to sit in the quiet of the kitchen, trading kisses and soft words until the sky outside turns gray; a new day on the horizon.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

So in writing the history of identification/taxonomy chapter for The Everyday Naturalist, I spent a lot of time poring over scans and reprints of very old western European natural history books. This included a lot of medieval bestiaries, which were usually illuminated manuscripts with the colorful, stylized artwork so common from that era. It wasn't until the European Renaissance that you started seeing more of an emphasis on realistic artwork, and by the time you get to the transitional period between the late Renaissance and the Enlightenment engravings based on original drawings were very common for illustrating books on animals and plants.

A lot of the images passed around as "antique scientific illustrations" stem from the mid-17th century Historiae Naturalis written by John Jonston and illustrated by Matthäus Merian the Elder. By this point in history numerous European nations were sending ships around the globe to bring back resources, which included a significant number of natural history specimens. The sheer variety and biodiversity represented by these gave naturalists in these countries an overwhelming amount of fodder for study, classification, and publication.

However, there was still the perennial problem that not everyone writing or illustrating these seemingly exotic species could access them in person. Medieval bestiaries, and their predecessor the Physiologus, tended to mix natural history with religious allegory, and often the writers had never actually seen the species they were describing. Since they had to go on secondhand (or thirdhand, or fifteenthhand) information, things sometimes got lost in translation like a big game of Telephone. And the situation was still the same by the time Jonston and Merian were working on the Historiae Naturalis.

Which is why that venerable attempt to catalog as many of the animals in the known world as possible includes, amid pages of real animals like molluscs, deer, and bats (categorized with the birds!), you also had descriptions and engravings of six different unicorn species. Jonston did remark that he was going entirely on the word of others and cited his sources wherever he could, but it seems as though most of them were treating the unicorn as a separate beast from the rhinoceros or antelopes. (You can find a scan of the entire Historiae Naturalis de Quadrupedibus here, if you want to read for yourself.)

This is probably the last major natural history work in which unicorns and other mythical animals would be presented as equally real as flesh-and-blood animals; once the Enlightenment got into full swing, the sciences sought empirical evidence, and hearsay was generally no longer considered good enough for publication. So there's something a little charming about this text that bridges the gap between the ancient bestiaries with their blurring of fact and fiction, and the modern emphasis on chasing down the truth behind the myths.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

"Difficult to please"

"Focalors with a reader that can switch bodies"

Characters: Focalors x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: The obvious things right away: I've never written for Focalors before nor do we have much information about her yet, so I wrote her mostly from my gut feeling after seeing her in the Fountaine trailer.

Anyway, I love Furina as you might have guessed by me changing my theme for her. She's such a little gremlin and her design is so beautiful. I can't wait to see her and how she changes (well, hopefully somewhat to the better at least) in the story.

I’m going to use “Focalors” and “Furina” interchangeably, since I’m 99.99% sure they’re the same person, but hey, if Hoyoverse somehow pulls a huge twist on us and I get it wrong it would also be kinda funny.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Focalors

To say that you were nothing more than a glorified babysitter for Fountaine’s Archon would have been a massive understatement. Once a young law student aspiring to one day become a judge, it didn’t take you long in your position as lawyer to attract the attention of your archon. Not in the “have a vision and beat up the bad guys” kind of way, however. Instead the weird clients you represented never failed to deliver her a somewhat entertaining spectacle, causing the Chief Justice to “volunteer” you as the Archon’s advisor… a role that, while sounding nice, de facto only had the responsibility of keeping her entertained enough to not sully any more court hearings than necessary with her cries of boredom.

When you found out about your powers to switch bodies, you knew better than to tell anyone other than your closest companions… especially Furina. While she got away with her attitude in her own body, you didn’t even want to fathom how many friends she’d be able to alienate or from how many shops she’d get you banned from if she did the same while running around in yours.

However, all of your hard work of keeping it a secret eventually turned out to be futile, as the Archon would eventually figure it out one way or another. After all, the reason she got so little done was not for a lack of ability, she simply didn’t care about most cases and delegated them to whatever judge crossed her path first, but when you began acting a bit stiff around her, the challenge of figuring the reason out was more than enough to keep her on your case.

If it weren’t for the fact that a small voice in your head worried about where to start a new life after having your entire image destroyed by the one currently occupying your body, you would have found the day in your Archon’s body amazing, you got to attend as many court cases as you wanted without anyone batting as much as an eye, got to have your first experiences as a judge and even didn’t have to pay for any of the most delicious food and drinks Fountaine got to offer. The stares you received from the other officials, probably wondering what could have happened for their notoriously difficult Archon to have such a good day, were a bit much at some times, but it was not like you were complaining.

“I want to change back!”, Focalors demanded the moment she stepped into her office, swinging the door behind her shut with as much force as she could muster and not even wincing in the slightest at how loud it was. Beelining towards the couch as she let herself fall onto it, letting out a groan of annoyance loud enough to make any bird sleeping outside fall out of its nest.

“Can’t handle being asked out all the time?”, you tried to crack a joke, knowing all too well that answering earnestly would only earn you a bored sigh.

“Ha!”, Furina let out a loud laugh before turning her face towards you. “Remind me to make you my court jester the next time we are in need of one”, she stated sarcastically before looking back at the ceiling. For your and Fountaine’s sakes however, you decided to disregard her order and to not to remind her of how she had just fired the last one for “being boring”.

“Aren’t you humans supposed to have interesting lives? What happened to ‘live every day like it's your last one’? Or is doing *this* what you all desire??”, she asked while extending her arms and wildly signaling into the air.

“What did you do all day?”, you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible even though your mind was starting to panic about what you might be greeted with tomorrow. But instead of answering your question, your Archon ignored you and continued to complain about how boring your life was, causing you to start worrying even more.

“I bet you loved this day, watching boring court cases, getting any food you desired for free, being asked for your opinion… eugh”, she let out yet another groan, making you wonder how easy it was for her to read you.

“Furina.”

“Anyway, I want my body back. So give it to me”, she continued to ignore you as she stated her earlier demand once again.

“What did you do while in my body, Furina?”, you asked one last time, grabbing both of her shoulders to force eye contact with her.

“You’ll probably have some explaining to do. I honestly want to see it all play out, it’s going to be the most entertainment I’ve had in months”, she answered off-handedly, causing you to bury your face in your palms as she continued on as if nothing happened.

“I’ll make you a judge as compensation, it’ll be a win-win. You’ll get to do what you always wanted to do and I may get one or two interesting hearings out of it”, Furina stated before pulling your hands away from your face and placing her forehead on yours, prompting the two of you to finally change bodies.

Yet, her offer caused you to feel even more conflicted than you already were. Finally, it was your time to let out a groan.

“That’s Nepotism.”

“I don’t care”, she responded bluntly, forcing you to use all your self control not to fall into the deep pit of hopelessness for your nation currently seeming to open in front of you. “Didn’t you want to become a judge?”

“Yes, but I want to earn it!”

What followed were a couple of seconds of silence before Furina turned around, walked over to a different couch, sat down, let out a long sigh and spoke a sentence so laced with irony that you didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at it.

“Fine. Geez, you’re so difficult to please.”

[aphrc-dite]

König x Reader

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 18+ 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰

This is the first thing i’ve written in a while, so please go easy on me 😭

the day had been so awfully long, it almost felt like it was never ending as you dragged your body back to the nearby base.

you’ve been out and about for the last couple of days, working on this dumb mission that nobody seemed to be able to properly work out until now, giving you the perfect chance to head back and report your findings to könig.

with heavy steps you made your way over to yours and königs shared room, swinging the door open with a groan “you owe me one for this one” you spoke in a gentle voice, dropping your backpack on the floor along with some other pieces of gear “oh my.. you look rough liebling” his voice seemed to almost echo in your head as you closed the door behind you “and who exactly is at fault for that? you send me out there all on my own!” your words came out followed by a big huff, your arms crossing over your chest as your lip curled into a little pout, your actions causing könig to chuckle “i’m sorry liebling, i will make it up to you”.

your eyes watched closely as könig pushed himself off of his bed, his tall figure basically towering over you as he got closer and closer “will you let me make it up to you?” his soft voice asked as one of his arms gently wrapped around your waist. this man was already driving you absolutely insane and he had barely even done anything yet.

a soft pink shade spread across your cheeks as you simply nodded yes to his question, your own arms now wandering to wrap around the males neck and before you even realized what was happening, he had already fully lifted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he held you close “i’ve missed you a lot..” his words were almost mumbled as he carefully carried you over to the bed.

his voice was honestly something to die for, the way it was so soft and gentle whenever he spoke to you, it was enough to make you completely melt into his arms. your face gently nuzzled into his neck as he sat down on the bed. due to the position you’d taken earlier, you were now neatly placed on his lap. your heartbeat was quick to pick up as one of your hands gently wandered to lift the fabric of his hood, only enough to reveal the skin on his neck though, your lips immediately connecting to it to give him little kisses and nibbles.

all the while königs hands started to roam around as well, carefully running over your back for a while before slowly sliding under the fabric of your shirt, leaving behind a hot trail with his fingertips. somehow this was already enough to drive you absolutely crazy. being out there for all those days without könig nearby was like getting deprived of your entire life and energy, so to be back in his arms like this, felt like absolute heaven.

not wanting to wait much longer, you pulled away from his neck, giving yourself just enough space to pull off your top “don’t you think it’s a little nicer like this?” your words teased as your eyes focused on könig. it was obvious he enjoyed the view, his hands immediately moving to cup your breasts, giving them little squeezes before sliding his hands fully into your bra, his thumbs rubbing over your already hardening nipples.

you bit down on your lip as you tried to hold back any lewd sounds that might want to try and escape your lips, you were in the base afterall and anyone could hear you two through the thin walls if you were too loud “könig..” you spoke gently as you carefully start to grind against his thigh “you better not tease me too much today..” you quickly added on. könig didn’t answer though, his hands and mind focused completely on your breasts as he finally removed that pesky bra.

his actions were quick to speak louder than words, as he decided he didn’t want any foreplay, he didn’t want to tease you.. no.. he wanted you right then and there and without any further warnings, the positions were flipped and you were now pressed down on the bed, könig being perfectly placed inbetween your legs as his hands moved from your breast down your sides and right between your legs tearing a perfect hole into the bottom of your pants “no teasing then..” his voice somehow still managed to sound soft as he spoke, though the feel behind those words was far from what they sounded like “fuck..” you managed to mumble under your breath as you could feel your body heating up, it’s been a while since you’ve witnessed könig like this. it explained perfectly how needy he must’ve felt at this point.

though, you weren’t any better yourself, in the time between könig playing with your chest and him ripping your pants like that, you’d already became dripping wet, wether it was just the thought of getting it on or his sudden change in pace, you couldn’t be bothered to think more of those details. instead you licked over your lips, your eyes locking with königs for a little bit “show me what you got then” you dared to speak, making könig snicker a little bit “ask and you shall receive” and with no further hesitation, the male unbuckled his belt, unbutton his pants, zipped down that damn zipper and pulled everything down just enough to make his hard member jump out at you and god, it was almost as if it was bigger than it usually was.

your tongue licked over your lips as your hand went to reach for his length, immediately getting denied though “no touching” he smirked, his own hand moving inbetween your legs once more, this time giving a good rip to those annoying panties that were still covering your wet entrence “god.. look how wet you already are” he grumbled, pressing his shaft against your folds. evem though he had said he wouldn’t tease you, he couldn’t help but grind against that wetness of yours for a little while, his breath already growing heavy even though he hadn’t even started to push inside of you yet. at the same time, your own chest started to rise and sink rather quickly, your hands gripping onto the sheets underneath you as you were just waiting for the moment that his thick and long shaft would finally push in, the moment you’d finally feel like you were getting filled to the brim. just the thought alone was almost enough to drive you to the edge, but you held yourself together perfectly “please könig..” you whimpered softly.

a smirk started to play around his lips as he heard your words, but he took his sweet time to make your wish come true, leaning down a little so that he could whisper into your ear “give me a little bit prinzessin” he chuckled, deciding to keep his teasing going a little longer even though that was the one thing he didn’t want to do.

his grinding seemed to speed up a little bit,

giving just enough friction to your clit to make your body shiver lightly “please i just.. i need you in me” you beg, your hands grip on the sheets tightening as you tried to move your hips in a way that might make könig just.. slip in without even wanting to and god, that’s exactly what you managed to do.

you managed to position your hips just right at the perfect time as könig was grinding forward, his whole length being quick to fill you up as both of you let out a noise of satisfaction, that’s when there was truely no stopping. könig was quick to start moving his hips properly now, his hands holding onto your waist tightly as he held you in place, thrusting into you almost as if you were some sort of sex doll. his pace was fast and rather rough, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, filling the entire room.

your eyes rolled back lightly as you couldn’t help but arch your back, the grip of the sheets almost so tight you could’ve ripped a hole into them “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” was all that really left your mouth as you could feel his tip dig into all the right places. all the while könig said nothing at all, the only thing leaving his mouth for now were grunts and groans as little drops of sweat ran down his forehead.

you wanted to reach out so desperately, touch him, kiss him, but your body didn’t react to what the brain told it to do at all. instead, you just stayed in that arched position, absolutely getting your brains fucked out by könig. there were no restraints at all as his pace seemed to pick up even more. it was almost as if you felt him all the way in your stomach, his length ramming into over and over and over again.

due to the pace it really didn’t take you much longer to get to your breaking point, the friction being too much for you body to handle as your walls tightend around könig “oh god.. baby..” you moaned, still trying to keep it down a little bit “fuck please.. please.. i’m about to cum please” even now your voice managed to come out to incredibly quiet, your hands finally releasing from the sheets so that you could pull könig close to you “fill me up.. fuck just.. fucking fill me up” you whined his ear and that’s what seemed to do it for the man as well, a few more grunts left his mouth as his next few thrusts seemed a bit more sloppy, the last one hitting especially hard though as he fully pushed in his entire shaft, causing your legs to shake as an orgasm washed over your entire body. all the while könig had his own release, his hot cum pumping into you until it starte leaking from around his member, little drops of it running down your folds as his hips lightly jerked forward with every little pump “fuck.. liebling..” was all that left his mouth at this point, his body basically collapsing on top of yours, remaining inside of you until he slowly grew soft.